#rest in peace beatrix

[thequietkid-moonie]

Buddha, Tesla, Jack and Qin(separately) with a reader who has a little shop or works in a bookstore and is very sweet and innocent and has a 4 year old daughter. The reader is a very peaceful and shy person (this is They think) one day the characters are going to pay a visit and find her the house all messed up and she in the kitchen with a katana in her hand (and several dead men on the floor) surprise! Reader is a former assassin HireRental(like Beatrix Kiddo from Kill Bill) I love your writing it's so...amazing

Sweet and inocent reader is actually an assassin

[ HEADCANONS ] [ Buddha, Tesla, Jack, Qin ]

[ Records of Ragnarok / Shuumatsu no Valkyrie ]

YES YES YES!! I LOVE your idea anon, it's so exciting!! I ended up getting a little dramatic, I'm sorry if thats not what you wanted!

Although, I don't know anything about Kill Bill so i just go by what you said, I hope its okay. And, I'm sorry but a cannot stop thinking in Yor, I've been watching too much sxf

Buddha

He probably ended entering in your bookstore while he was searching something to end with his boredom, and for sure meeting you will be useful

You quickly picked his interest with your shy and sweet personality, and at first he start talking about the books but you two ended up talking about anything else, and he even get the oportunity to meet your daughter

The day didn't end without all of you becoming friends, and Buddha start going to the bookstore frecuently to see you two, he even invite the both to hang out outside

Everytime he goes to see you he always brings some candies for you two, even if you don't want that you daughter eat much he always secretly gives them to her

Buddha doesn't exactly offer his help in your work, and he even sometimes make a mess while playing with the little girl, but at the end the both help you clean

But he likes to spend time with you too, so when he isn't with your daughter he is following you around, unintentionally helping you while chating with you (and, of course, he never miss a chance to tease you and make you blush)

He pass a lot of time telling to both of you a lot of stories about all the places he has been, even of when he was a prince (and probably you didn't believe him at first)

He is always making sure the both of you are fine, making sure you're not overworked, if he have to force you to rest he will, and he even offer to do the work while you rest

The love he feels for both of you is obvious for whoever looks at him, but it isn't like he is hidding it

One day you asked Buddha if he could take care of your daughter while you do an important work and you promised to try to be quick with it, you didn't give much details but Buddha trust you so he acepted

However you were taking a lot of time, that make Buddha start getting worried about you, even your daughter was starting to ask for you

So he decided to search for you, saying to the little girl that they should go back home with a smile, but in their way he start having a very bad feeling, and when they where there Buddha noticed the front door slighly open

He ask the little girl to wait for him before enter in the house carefuly, everything was a mess, he was starting to get worried and angry, but his priority right now was find you

And he did, he find you in one of the rooms, your clothes covered in blood and some bodies in the floor, he was surprised and confused but still carefuly approach you and say your name with a soft voice

You were starting to relax a little since you finally finish with those bastards who tried to attack you from behind when you heard someone calling you softly

Scared you turn around and see Buddha standing in front of you, you stare at him for a moment before panic, you were scare of how he would react about this, throwing your weapon away you tried to come up with an excuse

But, even if he was surprised, he can tell that you still are that sweet person he met and fell in love, there is not any evil intentions in you

With confident steps he approach you, reassuring you that is fine, you have nothing to worry about, he even embrace you to help you calm down

He goes with your daughter again and entertains her until you finish to take care of what happened, and after everything was more calm you two talk about it

He is fully supportive of your work as an assassin, and even if you want to leave it he will support you

He admitted that he is surprise for it, from all people he never expected you to have a work like this! But he doesn't mind, and isn't scare either

He will help you whenever you need it, maybe taking care of your daughter or making excuses for when you have to go

He actually find this side of you rather atractive, and he will say it you without shame, and he even tease you for it!

Nikola Tesla

He had already seen your little bookstore from afar, but today he decided to go hoping to find something that will help him with his work

When enter he was greeted cheerfuly by a little girl that was sitting in your desk, soon you came and greet him too, asking him how could you help him

You two spend a while talking about all kind of book, searching for something that could help him, sometimes getting interrupted by the little girl

After that he start finding problems to concentrate since he can't stop thinking about you, is just that you were so cute and so kind, Tesla ended making an excuse to go to bookstore to see you again

For a while he makes some excuses to go, but soon you two become friends and he didn't have to make excuses anymore

He was constantly helping you in your work, or when you were too busy he spend time with your daughter, teaching her some things or playing with her (is so cute to see)

And every time you shyly thank him with a little blush in your cheeks he feels like his chest is gonna explode for how fast his heartbeat is

You two start spending almost all your time together, whenever he wasn't working in his studies he was with you, and you start taking care of him too since he gets easily invested in his work, you start acting just like a family. You even invite him over your house sometimes, and he invited both to his study

One day he was in his way to your house as usual, you two already made plans to meet but when he gets there he can tell that something was off, all the lights were off and the door was slighly open

He was fearing that something happen to both of you, he was planing to call the police but first he need to find you. Carefuly he enter in the house, everything was a mess and that just scare him most but he quickly calm down and start searching you

Tesla heard soft sobs and he run to where were coming, as silent as he manage, then he find your daughter hidden, gently he gets her attention trying not to scare her more, but the moment she sees Telsa she just cry harder and hide in his arms, he hold her while trying to calm her down, comforting her

Her cries alert you, you were sure that you had already take care of all the bastards, still you follow the sound carefuly, seeing someone with your daughter makes you more angry, sneaking until you were behind his back ready to kill him, until you reconize his voice

You let fall your weapon out of surprise and fear, that alert him, holding the little girl protectivebly he turn around quickly but the only think he sees is you cover in blood with a fearful expresion

He quickly stand up, asking you what happen and look for posible injuries. After noticing the bodies he gets super confused, he doesn't understand whats happening, still he put his hand in your shoulder reassuring you, and with a smile he tell you that you should take care of it, he will wait until you finish for an explanation

While you change your clothes and take care of what happen he stay with your daughter until she falls sleep

After that he is expecting an explanation, but he won't judge, Tesla hears patiently all you have to say and wait until you finish your story to say something

This is something unexpected , but you still the same person he love so much, so he decided to trust you, to believe that you're not doing it for malicious intention, promising you to stay by your side and support you

He is really interested in knowing why you became an assassin and he is really impress with your skills too

You can be the best assassin ever and he still sees you as the sweet inocent person he met in the bookstore

Maybe he won't be able to help you as an assassin, but he could help you with other things, like helping you cover it whenever you have to go out to do your work and taking care of your daughter. He gets really worried about you, but believes in you

Jack the Ripper

Jack is someone who really likes to read, loves enjoying a good book with a cup of tea, so it wasn't strange for him visit a bookstore

Meeting you truly surprised him, it had being so long since he meet someone with such beautiful and bright colors, he gets mesmerize with the sweetness in your voice when greeting him, it actually take him a moment to answer you

He ended up spending all day in your bookstore, talking about everything and anything, he even gets to meet your daughter, and he became friends quickly with the young lady

He start going to the bookstore frecuentrly just to see the both of you, and he's not really shy so he won't have problem admiting that he actually wanted to see you

Jack help you with the work, attending the persons who came searching for a book, helping you keeping the place organizate

He is always giving you compliments rather cheesy and poetic that never fails to makes you blush, and to your daughter too (telling her how cute she is or praising her improvements in school)

Jack could pass hours with the cute young lady and never get bored, playing around, reading a book to her, drawing something or even help her fall sleep, for Jack those moments are like being in heaven

He really crave for your company, for him being with both of you is like a dream come true, he couldn't be happier. People is always praising you for the beautiful family you are (even if you two aren't together yet), and that flattered him, he swears that he is the happiest man alive

One day Jack was having a very bad feeling so he decided to visit you, just to make sure both were fine. Stoping first by the bookstore, it was supposed to be closed by that hour but he finds your daughter there, when he ask her about it she tell him that you asked her to run there and hide until you came for her, the bookstore was pretty secure so he tell her to wait there and he will go to see you, not without first making sure she was alright and safe there

Running to your house Jack was trying to calm himself down, he was fearing the worst! When he finally get to your house seeing the door slighly open just make him feel more uneasy, he was ready to rip apart the idiots who even dare to think to mess with you. Carefuly he sneak inside and toured the house looking for you, just by looking at the mess he could tell that there was been a fight

There was just one room with light and a person standing giving him the back, in the floor was several dead bodies, he decided to approach the person carefuly without even making a sound

There were you, finally relaxing a little since you already take care of everyone, you didn't feel Jack's presence until he was behind you, out of fear and anger you turn around quickly putting your weapon just inches away from his throat

It take a moment for both of you to complently understand the situation, your expression change to one shocked and covered in fear, the last person that you wanted they know about this part of you was standing in front of you

Seeing your expresion makes Jack panic, he feared to see that expresion on you, he never wanted to see you in such color. The tears starting to form in your eyes was what makes him get into his senses and reasure you that is okay, everything was fine now!

After pick your daughter and putting her to sleep Jack help you take care of everything, from fixing the house to taking care of the bastards, he could tell that you still feel really bad from him seeing you like this, so he take a moment to reasure you that you have nothing to fear, this not change anything for him, he still loves you

He is willing to reveal that his is an assassin too (without much details), he still fears of how you will react, but if that helps you feel better he will

He isn't expecting an explication or anything, but he will heard you if you want to talk about it. What he will makes sure to do is tell you that you don't have to worry, he can tell that you're still the person he fell in love with, so he isn't going to leave you, and neither will tell someone about this

He is fully supportive of your work, and will teach one thing or two. Whenever you have work to do he gets worried about you, not becouse he doesn't trust you but becouse he fear losing you, and when you come back he always greet you with a big hug (is comforting for him feeling you in his arms)

And he is ready to help you with everything you need, doesn't matter if is in the bookstore, taking care of your daughter or with your assassin work

Qin Shin Huang

He wasn't exactly interested in the bookstore, sure it was a pretty one, but what actually drag his attention to it it was the little girl that was playing outside, running around while you were cleaning, it remembered him when he was a child, when his teacher was with him

He decided to approach the both of you when the little girl greeted him, that picked your attention and when you realized who she was talking to you get all shy and blushy, that just make him more interested

In reality he was more interested in both of you more than the books, and for a while you two always ended up meeting by casuality, but soon he start looking for you, he even go to the bookstore store, saying that he wanted to see you

Qin is really energetic and carismatic so it didn't take long for him and your daughter become friends (even best friends), even if she was the shy type

And he even start craving your company, you quickly made your way to his heart, he just seems like he can't live without your sweetness and kindness anymore

In no time you get stucked with Qin, he is just really happy with both of you, he is always looking for passing time with the both of you, he even makes you take some free days so the three of you could hang out together, he have a lot of plans! (even before you two become a couple)

Wherever you go you always recive compliments of how you are a really beautiful family, and that makes Qin feel super proud

It was one day that Qin was hanging alone with your daughter since neither of them manage to convince you to go with them, you say that you had a lot of work but next it will be, when the night was starting to fall he decided that it was time to return to home

Getting close to the bookstore he notice how the door was slighly open even if there was no trace of you, getting worried Qin ask the little girl to wait for him, saying that he just need to check something, he promised that it would just take a moment

When he enter in the bookstore everything was a mess, there even was some blood, he start fearing the worst. He start walking around searching for you, he didn't bother for try to be careful or sneaky

You easily hear how someone else was enter in the store, you already took care of the people who tried to attack you, but there was the posibility of them having accomplices. Hidding next to the door and ready to attack was when Qin enter in the room, you reacted so quickly than you didn't even realice that it was actually him

Qin reacted quickly too, blocking your attack and both of you just stare at each other for a moment, he was trying to undestand what was happening, he didn't want to think that you, from all people, could try to attack him from behind

But those concerns were quickly erased as you take some steps back, letting your weapon fall and start apologizing, in your eyes even start forming some tears, your expresion change to one with such saddnes and shame that he even get worried, you didn't want him to see this part of you!

Then Qin take your face between his hands gently, making you look at him in the eyes and reasure you that he wasn't mad, and that everything is fine now

He make one of the servants take care of your daughter while he helped you, and after everything was in their place again you two talk about what happen

He carefuly heards your story, but at the end he reasures you that everything was fine, he still loves you and he wasn't planning to leave you anytime soon

He told you that if you become an assassin becouse you need it then you shouldn't be worried about that anymore, he can provide you with everything you need and want, but will support you if you want to continue with your work

He doesn't really bring the topic again just because he doesn't see a point to do it, everything continue like nothing really had happen, but the truth is that Qin is really interested in your work (he thinks that makes you just even more beautiful)

He even offer you to teach you some things about fighting

[melsie-sims]

Rest in peace Beatrix Llynstead, née Durandal. You will be terribly missed by the whole family.

[squib-2006]

Dr pt2 spoiler warning

This was a fantastic set of episodes

• Kai and wyldfire are everything. Kai having to deal with someone who acts like he did in the earlier seasons is poetic justice and funny as hell.

• I also like how they kinda tried to explain why Kai seemed calm after sea bound and nyas seaifcation. I guess Kai meditating with wu would make him calmer. At least it confirms that Kai was upset (even if they didn’t show it)

•I am kinda upset that nothing from skybound was brought up with the Djinn. I personally don’t really like skybound but I still find that it could be used more than just oh yah that happened right wink wink. I mean we had to suffer through skybound for something right?

• I actually really liked sora and nyas whole plot with the Djinns curse. It was fun and had a nice conclusion.

• Coles return is great I love his little gang in the land of forgotten things. My favorite has to be the skeleton girl (I forgot her name probably cuz they only say it like 2 times) she’s funny.

• I do wish there was a scene where nyas like btw I found Cole and the other ninja react. I mean she does mention it at the end but no one except Zane has any real reaction.

• Beatrix going off the rails was really funny. It felt like someone gave a teen with daddy issues an insta death weapon.

• rapton switching sides kinda came out of left field for me. Like the guy isn’t the brightest bulb in the box I think it would be more likely for other characters to switch sides. Also how did he recover from being tased so quickly? Man was out cold and not two minutes later he was up and walking around.

• kinda felt that the whole being sucked into non existence should have had more lasting effects (totally not because I want to traumatize or brutally injure Kai no why would I want that /s) tho fake out deaths are pretty par for the course with ninjago, this one actually didn’t make me feel all that much cuz I knew the moment wyldfire got pulled in that this was a fake out. They wouldn’t kill one of there new characters that quickly.

•so wus just legitimately fudging dead. Never thought we would see the day when this old mad would just peace out. Also ghost wu legit looks like he’s slowly loosing his form or something cuz in the first half he appears with his full body but in the last scene he’s in he’s just a chest and a head. It might have just been a stylistic thing tho.

•I’m not mad jay only showed up for around 30 seconds (this just might be my bias tho cuz jays probably the ninja I care the least about, not that I hate him or anything he’s just not that interesting to me) it’s kinda refreshing for me cuz nya gets to be her own character for a bit and not be completely attached to Jay and Jay gets to take up less screen time (if I am being honest Jay had so much focus in the wild brain seasons it kinda got annoying to me personally) idk if he’s actually lost his memories or if that leak is wrong cuz it would make sense cuz he has not searched for the ninja (specifically nya cuz that man is a simp for his gf) Arin missing him by a second is hilarious to me.

•not sure about how I feel about Lloyd being the linchpin for the entire thing. Part of me thinks that it would have fit the shows themes better if all of them used their elemental powers or something else to power the cores to fix everything. But another part of me understands that Lloyd get main character privileges cuz he’s the son of ninjago god.

•still kinda frustrated that they are changing how elemental powers work. Originally they were from the first spinjitzu master, but the whole source dragon being the source (for lack of a better word) of the elemental powers, it completely retcons and nerfs the first spinjitzu master. It would have made more sense if they still came from the powers of the fsm and were gifted through the source dragons to people.

•the implication of the cursed realm merging with the rest of the realms brings up the question if the departed realm merged to? Does that mean no one can die??? Or is there some sort of force that still keeps the departed realm separated from the rest (like how the people in the land of the forgotten can’t leave) or can some dude just wander in to the departed realm and see like there dead grandma chilling with the fsm having tea or some crap like that.

•Lloyd going I forgot there are two of them now towards Kai and wyldfires antics is peak writing. And all the arson and explosions the two created is just beautiful.

•I think the Kai and wyldfire duo should be called like the arsonist or the kaboom duo

•THE HUGGG!!!! My boi was so happy looking when the tackle hug was done.

•I just cant get my brain to shut up about these two. They give off tired dad who sometimes gives in to his old chaotic ways he’s sworn he’s grown out of and living embodiment of chaos and fun daughter who drags her dad into crazy things.

Tdlr I loved this second half and had a few issues with it but it was still really good.

[fnvminorcharacterpoll]

The Superfinals are over, and the results are in.

Despite going into the superfinals grudge match swinging, and her shooters in the reblogs and replies, Trudy Goodsprings has only become the latest, greatest victim of the unstoppable blade of Beatrix Russell. Characteristic for Beatrix, she won decisively, by a factor of two-to-one. She is a cowgirl, a leatherdom, an immortal, still your champion, and still the best minor character in Fallout: New Vegas.

As our champion, Beatrix gets to rest on her well-deserved throne in peace now, with no further grudge matches against our champion being permitted...for now. In the meantime, I'm willing to hear out requests for other grudge matches between two characters who never met in bracket but deserve to slug it out for our honor and/or amusement. The askbox remains open! Pitch your fights! Make some noise! Let's see what happens! Refer to the bracket masterpost here to see who has and hasn't met in bracket, and who was or wasn't knocked out by who.

[fourleafclovxr]

6: day after

The day after the world doesn’t end, Clarissa Dovey sleeps in.

There is so much work to be done, still. The students will have to be counselled; their tracks will have to be decided, properly. All the School Master’s mistakes will have to be undone. For someone so proud of his school, the only thing he'd managed to do, in the end, was ruin it.

Clarissa will have to be the one to fix it— she, alone, will have to bear that responsibility.

Lesso’s death, an open wound. A bleeding heart. There is no one left for Clarissa to rely on: not Merlin, as unpredictable as whatever is to come. Not Manley, only ever out for himself. Not any of the other Evil faculty, or indeed, any of the Good, who could not even begin to come close to understanding. Not any of her students, their students, clever and kind as they are; they have been through enough, and so much more.

No more counterpart, no more equal, no more reliable, faithful, ever-enduring Lesso. Perhaps this is a problem that Clarissa will never solve— a wound that will never truly scar over, a missing piece. Perhaps this is why it feels so hopeless to begin.

The funerals will have to be planned. Clarissa did not ever think she would plan Lesso’s funeral; she had thought she would die first, as Lesso was so fond of saying, because it had been true, she could not have imagined a life like this.

She will have to live a life like this.

There is so much work to be done, but an exhaustion weighs on Clarissa that rends to the bone. When all is said and done, there is her and her loneliness, there is her and all her regrets. She does not want to look at them any longer. She sleeps.

The day after, the sun bleeds bright as she wakes. Clarissa hadn’t been awake to watch it die. She’d only fought in its shadow, cursed its bitter cold, killed Aric under its corpse. Watched Lesso die in the dark. Then, before she’d let herself rest: healed injured students, brushed Nicholas’ tangled hair away from his face and spelled the dirt and blood from his jacket.

Today she wakes to sunlight through her window, sunlight and clear skies. The world hasn’t ended, though it had felt for a moment as if it had.

Merlin greets her in the foyers of Good, looking for all the world like he’d had a good eight hours of sleep; she knows for a fact that he’s been up all night moving the School Master’s tower back to its proper position. Another problem they need to fix, the issue of the new School Master. But Merlin doesn’t say anything, only offers an arm to her in silence, a support that Clarissa gladly takes.

“It’s all been prepared, dear girl,” he says softly. “The funerals. Don’t worry yourself over them.”

He’d taken Lesso’s body, in the end. Exchanged it for Nicholas’ in Clarissa’s lap. Clarissa had not quite loved Lesso enough to refuse to let her go. Or, rather, she had loved Lesso just enough.

Lesso, who had never been comfortable with being wanted, being needed, being bound. Who had let Clarissa hold on to her anyway. To hold all her hopes, all her faith. There is so little Clarissa can do for her in death. This is one of those things.

“Thank you,” she says, and tries to mean it.

The students gather in pairs, trios, bunches. Beatrix greets her with a tired smile, more reserved than she ever was; Kiko with red eyes and a brave face. Tedros nods to Merlin, Agatha placing a gentle hand on Clarissa’s shoulder as they pass, and Sophie only looks away.

Good and Evil, all together. This is what she and Lesso never dreamed of. This is an ending neither of them, none of their generation, could understand.

Clarissa wonders, then, how Lesso would feel. It would be an insult to her, this unity, this lack of fighting spirit. She had always been dedicated to the fight.

More than that, however, she had wanted them both to live. So Clarissa supposes she would take it as an acceptable price to pay. This temporary peace; and her life, as well, small change in the scheme of things.

Not to Clarissa. Never to Clarissa. But Lesso’s dead, so no one will ever know.

She makes her speech; doesn't remember most of it. It is wistful, for Cinderella, for her student. It is genuine, for Lesso. It could not be anything else.

It will not be the same again. But there will be so many days after this one; so many that Clarissa can almost believe it to be worth it, that Lesso is dead. Day after. Day after. Day after. Maybe, one of these days, Clarissa will understand them to be real.

[merlinsbudgiesmugglers]

Comfort

When Ted suffers an unexpected loss at work, Andromeda is there to comfort him.

Read on AO3

Andromeda had just finished restocking the potions on floor four and was considering ducking up to the tea room for some lunch when the doors to the Beatrix Loughty ward burst open, and Ted stormed through them. He didn’t notice her as he moved quickly down the corridor and disappeared round the corner.

That wasn’t the Ted she knew. He was endlessly optimistic, always with a friendly smile and a nod when they passed in the corridors. Wondering what had put him in such a mood, Andromeda quietly opened the door to the ward, carefully peeking through and instantly finding her answers.

She couldn’t see the body, but she knew whose bed it was. A hard lump formed in her throat that she struggled to swallow around. Joey O’Riley was a bright and happy six-year-old boy who had come in with Fwooper’s cough a couple of months before. He had responded to the initial treatments but after a week at home, had been brought back to the hospital, his cough worse than before. Ted had been working tirelessly to come up with a solution, endless days and long nights in the research library, trying to come up with anything that would work.

And now it was too late.

Andromeda backed out of the ward silently, careful not to draw attention from Joey’s parents or the Healers that were with them. It didn’t take long to find Ted. In the months that she’d known him, she’d learnt of his favourite places for some peace and quiet in the hospital. He was where she expected him to be, in the basement, sitting on an old bed that had been stored there, his legs drawn up and his head buried in his knees.

He didn’t look up when she lifted herself onto the bed beside him or when she rested her hand lightly on his shoulder. But he didn’t tell her to leave, so she settled silently beside him, her hand slowly moving up and down his back. When he finally looked up at her, he made no effort to stop the tears silently streaming down his face, and Andromeda had to blink hard to stop her own from falling.

They were close, so close that she could see Ted’s eyes darting back and forth across her face. They fell to her lips, and for one long, breathless moment, she had a wild thought that he might close the gap between them. A fleeting thought crossed her mind that if he did, she might not stop him.

But the long moment ended when he turned to face the wall across from them, ‘It’s not fair.’ He said finally, his voice breaking as he spoke.

‘I know.’

Roughly running a hand over his face, Ted stood up and started pacing back and forth between Andromeda and the wall across from her. ‘I thought we had it. I thought I’d done it. His results were good. He was improving.’ He turned sharply and slapped his hand hard against the wall. ‘It was WORKING!’ He shouted, the sound reverberating through the empty corridor.

Without thinking, Andromeda slipped off the bed and crossed the space between them. It was easy to stand on her toes to wrap her arms around him. For a terrible moment, Ted froze, and she thought that she had made the wrong move. But then his arms wrapped around her, and his head dropped onto her shoulder.

They’d never been this close before, never touched like this. Andromeda couldn’t remember holding anyone like this, not even her family. She could feel his heart beating with hers, his warm breath against her neck. Andromeda closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest, leaning completely into him, wanting to give him any comfort she could.

She didn’t know how much time passed while they stood there, holding each other, but no matter how much she might want to, Andromeda knew that they couldn’t stay there forever.

‘You did everything you could for him,’ she said quietly, breaking the silence surrounding him.

Ted lifted his head. She thought they’d been close before, but it was nothing compared to this, and she felt her heart skip a beat as she looked into his sad eyes.

‘I should have done more,’ he replied, defeat clear in every syllable, ‘we’re magical. How is it that a six-year-old kid can just…die?’

He was right. Why hadn’t someone come up with a solution for Fwooper’s Cough? Narcissa had had it when she was little. Andromeda could still remember the honking coughs in the nursery, tears streaming down Cissy’s face with every attack. They’d been lucky, and her case had been mild. But there were too many kids dying from it every year, their little lungs unable to handle the constant attacks.

But she knew that wasn’t what Ted needed to hear. ‘Magic can’t solve everything,’ was what she said instead, something the hospital constantly repeated in training, for moments like this where even magic wasn't enough.

But her brain was already beginning to turn over.

Silence fell over the corridor until Ted spoke again, ‘I need to go speak with his parents,’ but he didn’t make any attempt to move.

So Andromeda helped him. She stepped out of his arms and held her hand out to him. He looked at it for a moment before he took it, letting her lead him up the back stairs to the fourth floor.

They separated only when they reached the doors to the public area of the fourth floor. Ted turned to face her, his hand releasing hers, and her fingers curled against the loss.

Another silent moment passed between them, ‘I should head back to the lab–’ Andromeda started to say, but Ted cut her off by leaning down to kiss her cheek quickly.

‘Thank you,’ he said softly, making her face grow warm and her heart thud loudly in her chest.

‘Anytime,’ she managed to say breathlessly.

He threw her a small, grateful smile and pushed through the door. Once he was gone, Andromeda brought her hands up to her cheeks, pressing against them as if that would do anything to reduce her blush.

She slowly made her way back down to the lab. Taking her time to savour Ted’s warm, spicy scent that clung to her robes, swirling around her as her mind swirled between him and ideas for just how she might improve the chances of kids with Fwooper’s Cough.

She should look at the pepper-up composition first, that had a cough suppressant in it.

Why hadn't she ever noticed that Ted’s eyes had a little bit of gold right near the iris?

A cough suppressant probably wasn’t the right solution. Plants with anti-inflammatory properties would be more useful.

What would his lips feel like against hers?

Andromeda shook her head as she arrived in the lab. Thinking about Ted Tonks was pointless. She had more important things to worry about.

Like curing Fwooper’s Cough once and for all.

[ofcarnvge]

Unarmed

@annalis-e--shadowofpanem

There was a news bulletin for Shadows to read that resembled the website of most news outlets. Leslie stared at her phone screen, excessively refreshing the bulletin before feeling the weight of a gaze on her. She looked up to find her host looking in her direction. She grasped at a vaporous recollection of Floss’s words and, finding nothing, sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m just checking to see if the world hadn’t imploded while we were sleeping.” She returned her attention to her pancakes, laying her phone face down on the table.

“If it did, I’m sure I would have gotten the call,” Eleanor ensured Leslie. Her back rested against her chair. “I hate to admit it, but the Vipers feel like our distant cousins. Not quite Shadows...but people who move and think in the same manners. Once all guards were dropped, I actually took to liking them. And they may be on the way to actually liking one another, which, given Mallory’s as a relative unknown, is really something. It’s a shame this Beatrix person is about to carve through that without much fanfare.” Eleanor leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands, elbows planted firmly into the table. Almost childlike. “I hate that we can’t elongate the calm before the storm--it seems like everyone here needed it. But they have their own priorities and we have ours. I know we make a habit of going where we haven’t been expressly invited, but O-Ren seems dead set on doing this alone. Intervening, in this instance, solves nothing. It’s funny how companies, establishments, countries, are easier to defy than individual people.”  

Leslie’s mind sparked, turning over ideas. But she said nothing.

“As for how I’m feeling,” Eleanor leaned back, grasping a fork and driving its spoked points into her pancakes. She reached for her knife and began to saw through the stack. “I’m struggling to forget the piles of problems I have on my desk. So I’m drawing out breakfast for as long as possible...” She shrugged. “I might buy myself a little cottage tucked away in a forest somewhere...see if I can bottle up what I’m feeling now and give it some permanence.”

Cereza found a harmonious rhythm that saw was on track to make enough breakfast for everyone under Floss’s roof, and in time to still be hot by the time everyone had awakened. “I’m not proud enough to deny that taking refuge in this kitchen has kept some deeply rooted fears of mine. Elle was...easy. The hunt came to me as easily as the execution and I’m frightened of how easily I could just slip back into the role of ‘assassin.’” The word burned against her tongue. “...the personal sacrifices we make for our friends. May we love fiercely enough to have to make them, but heaven forbid we have to make too many.”

As if chasing on the heels of Cereza’s statement, a ghost wandered into the kitchen. A girl at peace, shaking the sleep out of her bones as her feet shuffled lazily along the tile. Only it wasn’t a ghost. At least, not according to Eleanor, whose eyes followed the figure as she made her way to the freezer. She wore a face that both Cereza and Eleanor recognized from a long time past.

While Cereza and Eleanor spent the morning wondering if such calm could last, Pan had found the reason to hold onto it, fleeting or not. it oozed into her skin and made its home there, turning the director into...

A person.

It was beautiful to see. The effort to railroad Pan back to Molly had borne more delicious fruit than anything the Shadows had done in the week prior.

Pan rummaged through Floss’s freezer before finally noticing she was being watched. She looked at the room, eyes darting around. “...what?”

Eleanor smiled and shook her head. Cereza happily returned to her cooking, and Leslie regarded her stack of pancakes for the first time.

After pulling a tub of vanilla ice cream from the freezer, Pan closed the door. She searched lazily until her sleepy eyes found Floss. “Do you have any peaches?”

--

Peace did not come easy to the guests of Floss’s estate...but it skipped Amy entirely. No matter how late it was when she first retired, her body still found reason to wake her at 5 am on the dot. She went down her list of morning exercises and stretches before climbing into the shower, where she found refuge in the cascading water for an hour or so longer than a typical shower should be. It was quiet on the floor, with all the muffled morning chatter happening in the kitchen below.

Amy packing her bags every morning had become a habit, much like treating each bed she slept in like it was only available to her for a single night. Globe hopping from Asia to the US and then finally to the UK kept with her usual style of never staying in one place for too long. But the idea of joining her peers for breakfast set fire to her nerves; she had already been in Floss’s house for too long. Running and hiding was a hard habit to break...especially when the wages of failure were being Pillboxed...or killed.

A week in Pan’s company was not enough to teach Amy’s body that it was past time to move, even if her mind and heart knew that she was no longer being hunted. Even as she approached the door, the weight of having free hands was far heavier than carrying her belonging to the door. “Drop the bag,” she muttered to herself. Over and over again. Eventually, her duffle fell from her grasp and onto the carpet. She stood at the door with her fingers on the knob for what felt like hours, forcing her feet to carry her to the kitchen rather than out of the front door.

But even as she made the journey, Amy couldn’t help but eye all possible exits.

“I am not the enemy anymore,” Amy muttered to herself.

“Why did you take Bill up on it?”

Go go’s expression was searching, but not accusatory when she asked the question.

Mallory looked down into her half empty coffee cup then out over the pastoral landscape which stretched away from the patio. She shrugged with one shoulder.

“Honestly, I wanted to be good at something. And I am. But it wasn't worth it. Not for any of us.”

Go go nodded. “Sometimes I wonder why I agreed...”

“...Because you were a kid.”

Mallory cut in, hard, certain. Go go paused.

“Because you were a fucking kid Go go. They conditioned you. What happened to you, it was wrong. It was messed up.”

“O-ren didn't condition me.” There was heat in Go go’s voice now, still low, but there.

“Yeah, she did.” Mallory wouldn't break Go go’s gaze. “But that’s kinda the worst part...O-ren was conditioned too, if not by a person then by her life. You don't need me to tell you what happened to O-ren’s parents, what happened after that. The wheel just kept turning.”

A moment of difficult silence settled between the two of them. Partly because Go go knew Mallory was right, and partly because Mallory felt a twinge of guilt. The sweet song of a thrush sounded from a hedgerow by the gate.

“O-ren wants to end it. She wants to make things right. She’s flying out today to meet Beatrix.” A twinge of pain crossed Go go’s face. “Mallory, I’m scared she wont come back.”

And then, Go go cried. Silently. Painfully. Still holding her coffee cup. At first Mallory regarded her with something like shock. Go go Yubari did not cry. Quite at once it seemed rather too real. It was one things to move the pieces about remotely. It was another to sit next to them. Mallory put her cup down. She thought about her brother, Max. 

There was a way he had always hugged her, with one arm, his chin on the crown of her head. Mallory held Go go just like that, and the former bodyguard did not pull away, she just let the tears slide silently down her cheeks. 

And it was like her brother’s voice left her when she spoke, a voice she had never found in her absent father, nor in her mother’s anger. And certainly not in herself, not yet;

“Go go, I promise. I promise. We’ll get O-ren back.”

-

“We might be more fortunate than we suspect with Beatrix.” Floss answered while cutting up her pancakes. “Granted, I don't know Black Mamba but from what I’ve seen, I think we may have a rather ironic de-escalation expert in O-ren. By my guess, if anyone can talk her down it’s a woman rather famous for ratcheting any conflict up to a Shakespearean level.” Floss gave a shrug. “Strange, but there you have it.” 

Outside, Floss couldnt help but notice that Mallory was holding Go go by the shoulder. Things were so seldom exactly as they seemed.

Leslie’s reply almost stung to hear. Floss put down her cutlery.

“I hope you all know that this house, this kitchen, is a place of safety. For as long as you need it, whenever you need it.” She rolled her eyes. “But yes, I cant ignore the small mountain that’s growing outside the door. Between Agnes, the artefact and goodness only knows what’s going on with our latest museum collection...we do have full plates.” She picked up her knife and fork again, an optimism dawning on her features. “But hey, none of us has to do this alone. I’m sure we can work it out between us”

Quite on queue The Director wandered into the kitchen looking distinctly...human. As if something of a veneer of self defense and denial had finally peeled away. Somehow it made her look younger. 

“Only three left, but they’re in that cupboard.” Floss pointed with her fork. It did her good to see at least some of the weight of the world roll off of Pan’s shoulders. As if she were leading by example. 

-

O-ren toweled herself off rigorously and pulled her still damp hair into a tight bun. Clothing herself in the simple, but utilitarian black dress she had chosen for the mission before she set out from Tokyo. More practical than glamorous. Standing before the full length mirror the concept of ‘glamour’ made O-ren’s shoulders ache. But it was not an injury or a hangover from Bill’s pointless attempt at revenge; it was Minami. 

For a moment she wondered about contacting her. But it was madness. Deep down O-ren knew that to involve Minami in her life at all had been to place her in the firing line. Then again, not to undo the agency of the artist herself...she was not a stranger to it. O-ren sighed, putting the thought from her mind and pushed herself out of the bedroom door.

The sense of solitude was broken by the sudden and initially awkward presence of Amaterasu, also about to traverse the landing. O-ren knew that Go go already held her in a near epic esteem. So she smiled. 

“Amaterasu, good morning. I think we might be the last ones up.” She moved toward the kitchen. “Last night Go go was telling me all about the new meteor hammer she’s dreaming up...”

-

They were not the last to wake. 

Molly lay on her side, eyes shut. But she was not, in the technical sense, entirely asleep. It was more like, drifting. 

The gloom of dream resolved and through it a person turned, as though alerted to her presence. Clothed in scarlet from head to foot, stark, beautiful features, pale complexion. A knowing expression.

She spoke three words, but the sound was lost. 

Molly lifted her head from the pillow, her blonde hair a fluffy tangle. Returning to Cambridge, England, present day. 

“...Cure for mercury?” She uttered.

[who-canceled-roger-rabbit]

So I've been thinking of a Sweeney Todd / Kill Bill crossover where the Bride settles down with BB in London and opens up a record store like her fiancé ran—except this new store used to be Mrs. Lovett's pie shop, and the flat above it where the Bride and BB live was Sweeney Todd's barbershop. And then:

In all seriousness the resurrection mechanism I'm currently picturing is adolescent dipshits summoning him in the alley next to the old shop. He's probably a known serial killer in this setting as opposed to a legendary villain originating in penny dreadfuls. So other kids may have tried this at some point, but for whatever reason it works this time. He's summoned with his razor in hand, and he's about to kill the teenagers who summoned him because he was trying to die here; can't a guy get some rest for once? Cue the factory whistle. But then he decides if he can't die in peace he might at least try to live in peace, so he lets them go. Perhaps the catharsis from killing Turpin restored at least a bit of psychological clarity, lessening the bloodlust and allowing the moral weight of all the innocent customers he murdered to finally start hitting him. But presumably, after asking them what year it is, he still steals his summoners' clothes and money before they run away. I figure if this works like ghosts tend to do, Sweeney was summoned in a bloodstained barber's outfit, and he wants to be inconspicuous.

As he ponders how much the world has changed since he was gone, the Bride comes down from her bed to see what the hell made all the noise that woke her up. Cue the sirens. Not sure if she's carrying a gun, a katana, or just a knife from her kitchen, but Sweeney calms down either way and tries his damnedest to act normal. He asks where the nearest hotel or bed-and-breakfast is, then thanks her and heads there to spend the night. The next day he pops into her store and checks out the records and CDs. The Bride laughs, assuming that he's marveling at how old the records are when he's really marveling at how new everything is from his perspective. They strike up a conversation and quickly become friends, and Sweeney soon finds his own apartment nearby and a new barbershop to work at.

Sweeney's on his second pseudonym by now (Benjamin Barker -> Sweeney Todd -> whatever he's calling himself now) and the Bride on her fourth (Beatrix Kiddo -> Black Mamba -> Arlene Machiavelli -> The Bride -> whatever she's calling herself now). So I'm not sure when they find out each other's real names and backstories, but once they do they can bond over the whole "I lost years of my life to an authority figure who caused my spouse's death* and stole my kid" thing. However it goes, Sweeney becomes like a surrogate dad to BB (hey, same initials as his own birth name!) and possibly falls in love with the Bride.

But eventually as his guilt continues weighing on him, Sweeney starts wanting to atone for his past misdeeds by hunting other violent criminals who harm innocents, like some Dexter or Punisher shit. In keeping with the Deadly Vipers' snake aliases, he takes on the codename Taipan, in reference to how long he spent down under. The Bride is like SWEENEY NO because she still wants to live a peaceful life and keep her new family safe, but deep down she too feels drawn to the excitement and starts wondering if maybe Bill was right that she wouldn’t be happy with a normal existence. On top of that I figure the sheer affront of "Mr. T" falling in love with another woman would drive Mrs. Lovett's ghost to poltergeist the place up.

* Though in Todd's case Turpin caused it more indirectly.

[darkmaga-returns]

Nic Rowan

Nov 8, 2024

For the last few weeks, most people in Washington, D.C. have been feverishly counting down the days until the presidential election. Not me. As soon as the leaves began to turn, I was eagerly anticipating the opening of the winter season at Dumbarton Oaks Gardens. Now it has arrived. From November through March, the gates are thrown open to the public free of charge. And to my mind, these gardens are the most tranquil place in a city that does not value peace.

Dumbarton Oaks is the sort of oddity you don’t expect to find in Washington. It is an urban mansion on 16 acres of land and is primarily a research institution, owned and administered by Harvard University and specializing in the eclectic combination of Byzantine, Pre-Columbian, and Garden and Landscape Studies. To this end, the institution maintains an excellent library and runs a publishing imprint that puts out many otherwise rare books (including a six-volume bilingual edition of the Vulgate that is worth all $350 of its cover price). But the place is also a Georgetown neighborhood museum, devoted to displaying a collection of Byzantine and Pre-Columbian art—as well as other odds and ends—amassed by its former owners, Robert and Mildred Bliss, who donated the house and its grounds to Harvard in 1940. 

All those icons, tapestries, and old altarpieces grouped together in a low-lit Colonial Revival house give the museum an otherworldly quality. The glassy pavilion housing the Mayan art, designed by the architect Philip Johnson, achieves a similar effect simply through discongruity with the rest of the grounds, and, for that matter, the rest of Georgetown. The museum is “a very unusual oasis of civilization in our savage, modern city,” wrote the city planner Carl Feiss in the mid-1960s, as he surveyed the mid-rise developments and highways which then as today obscured much of the capital’s eccentric charm. But to enter Dumbarton Oaks is to leave all that for another place entirely.

This effect is felt most strongly in the gardens. When the Blisses bought Dumbarton Oaks in 1920, Robert, a career diplomat who had been posted all over the world, had in mind the impossible dream of owning “a country house in the city.” To achieve it, he hired the landscape architect Beatrix Farrand (best known for her gardens on Mount Desert Island in Maine) to create the illusion of a country retreat. This is harder than it sounds. Most of the flora native to the D.C. area drop their leaves and decay in the fall. The bare branches of the trees and bushes lend winter in the city a certain beauty, but a severe one that constantly reminds you of your urban surroundings.

The Blisses required something different. “The gardens were to be for spring and autumn enjoyment and in winter to have perennial green in abundance,” Mildred wrote of Farrand’s work. “A swimming pool, tennis court, and brook completed the illusion of country life, while clever planting bordering the lawn screened the street on the south side and left the birds undisturbed.” 

[casspurrjoybell-18]

The Vanilla Scented Rogue

*Warning Adult Content*

Chapter 27: The Date

B E N E D I C T - S T A P L E T O N

A smile was placed on my face as I drove with the windows down, Ashton sitting beside me in the clothes that I let him borrow as he stared out the window. His hair was flying in the wind as I drove at a fast pace, the wind and light from the sun hitting his face perfectly. His hands were placed in his lap as he looked out of the window, a huge smile placed on his lips as I drove us to our destination. My elbow was placed on the center console lying between us, my left hand directing the steering wheel to drive us towards the restaurant.

The restaurant I was taking my mate too wasn't exactly 'fancy' but was still considered nice so I gave him some of my nicer clothes. The restaurant I was driving us too was my favorite place to eat when I was a kid, my parents driving Beatrix and I there whenever they didn't want to cook for us. I made sure to call before I started driving to make sure they had a spot ready for us when we arrived, my smile only growing brighter when they told me they would have a spot for us since it wasn't busy today. I enjoyed the wind caressing my body as I drove Ashton to 'Pete's Eatery' a smile plastered on my face.

'I don't remember the last time I've been in a car," I heard Ashton confess, his voice holding a hint of sadness which made my smile drop a bit

"But this... this is nice so I think that even if I did remember the last time I rode in a car, that this ride would still be my favorite experience."

I turned my head towards Ashton to see him already looking at me with a bright smile, his voice sad but his expression happy. My smile grew massive as I looked at him, my right arm no longer resting on the center console when I reached over to grab Ashton's hand. Our fingers tangled together as we sat side by side, my head turning so I could look back in front of me and watch the road. A smile was still present on my face as I held his hand tightly, his hand warm and slightly smaller than mine.

I turned my head back to look at him when I felt eyes on me, a feeling of warmth filling me when I saw him smiling at me with love in his eyes. I took a breath before turning to look back at the road, a never ending smile present on my face as I raised our conjoined hands. I held his hand tightly as I pulled our conjoined hands closer to my lips, kissing the back of his hand as I drove us to the restaurant. The ride was peaceful as I drove, our minds clear of any worries about us being together and our hands pressed together.

Sparks continued to fly up my arm as I held his hand, my lips letting a deep sigh pass through them once I pulled into the restaurants parking lot because I had to let my mate go in a matter of minutes if not seconds. I heard a sigh leave Ashton's lips as well before he let go of my hand, turning in his spot so he could be face to face with me once I turned towards him as well. I turned the car off after I rolled up the windows, turning towards my mate who had pretty eyes and perfectly plump lips immediately after.

"Thank you for doing this for me," I heard him say in a tone that made me feel loved.

"I would do anything for you," I admitted, smiling softly at the boy who I know has already stolen my heart.

His smile was large as he leaned forward, raising his hand before setting it on the back of my head. He tangled his fingers into my hair before pulling me closer towards him and pressing our lips together, his other arm soon resting on my shoulder as he kissed me. I smiled into the kiss before letting my hands wander down his body, my hands soon resting on his hips as I pushed my tongue into his mouth. He let out a soft moan as I explored the inside of his mouth, our saliva mixing as we kissed.

I smiled into the kiss when he climbed on me, thanking the Moon Goddess for my tinted windows when he started to grind on top of me. I let out a quiet moan as I guided him through the motions, sparks flying through my body at every direction. He pulled back when he needed air, breathing heavily as he climbed back into his seat. I let out a small laugh as I watched him, taking in large amounts of air as I watched my mate look at me with lust filled eyes.

"Come on," I smiled at him, my eyes darting down to his pants when he adjusted himself.

I let out a laugh as I looked at him, earning a glare from my beautiful mate once I looked away and opened the door to my car. We walked into the restaurant soon after Ashton decided to get out of the car, his expression slightly embarrassed as he continued to adjust himself while I on the hand smiled brightly. Our hands were connected proudly as we walked to a smiling hostess named Sarah, Sarah soon guiding us to a booth at the back of my favorite restaurant. I was surprised when we didn't receive any glares or stares but was more than happy when I realized we could act like a real' normal' couple here.

A smile was present on my face the whole time she spoke to us, her smile and voice comforting as she told us 'You two look so good together' without a hint of sarcasm in her voice... there was simply just a bit of envy as she said...

'I hope I can have something as special as the two of you do one day,' before excusing herself.

Ashton and I both smiled up at her before she started to leave, the two of us both watching the kind woman leave the two of us to continue our date. Ashton sat across from me, adjusting himself once again before looking up at me to speak.

"I really hope she didn't witness... my problem," he spoke, leaning back in his seat as I chuckled at his words.

He frowned slightly as he grabbed the menu lying before him, muttering.

"Well, it's your fault I have it," he added, before looking over the food they offer here.

I smiled at him before looking at my own menu, looking through the back two pages of the menu where the types of meat they offer is placed. Our waiter, Charles, arrived at our booth minutes after the hostess sat us, my eyes examining his young face and curly hair before giving him my drink order. Unlike me, Ashton tried to make small talk with Charles before giving him his drink order, Charles's eyes immediately widening and his heart starting to race when Ashton asked him how his day has been going. Charles didn't answer Ashton's question, he simply just stared at the two of us in horror.

I heard a short sigh leave Ashton's lips before he forced a smile...

'Never-mind, can I just get a lemonade?' leaving his lips shortly after.

Charles quickly nodded, scurrying away with a quickly beating heart.

"I didn't mean to make him uncomfortable," Ashton said, his eyes begging for me to believe him.

"I know you didn't," I replied, smiling across the table at him.

"He's probably just new and afraid he'll accidentally upset people with his words. Don't worry about it."

Ashton didn't try to talk to Charles the rest of the night, nor did I. My mate didn't even seem to worry about making Charles uncomfortable as time passed, nor did I want him to. Charles didn't seem to be worried or concerned about us getting upset once we stopped talking to him, the only conversation we had was what we wanted to drink and eat. Charles set a plate filled with steak and mashed potatoes in front of me, my mouth watering as I stared at the food in front of me while Charles set a plate filled with a large salad in front of Ashton.

The salad was mixed with various vegetables, looking delicious as Ashton immediately picked up his fork. We let the bill sit between us, neither of us acknowledging it as we continued to talk and enjoy the other's company. We sat across from each other with large smiles placed on both of our faces, both of us laughing at a terrible joke I had just told. My cell-phone soon started to ring in my pocket, my eyes darting down to my pocket instead of continuing to stare at my beautiful mate.

"Do you need to go take that?" I heard Ashton ask as I looked down at who was calling me.

I let out a sigh as I saw Beatrix's name on the screen, looking back up at Asher after I declined the call.

"No," I answered clearly, smiling at him before reaching forward and grabbing his hand that was lying on the table.

"I'm here with you."

I held his hand tightly, both of us smiling at the other brightly.

"Are you ready to go? I have one more place for us to go."

I grinned at him as I spoke, loving how his face lit up as I spoke to him about our date continuing. We stood from the booth, both of us smiling at the other as I grabbed the bill that was previously lying on the middle of the restaurants table. I held the bill with my left hand, digging around in my pocket for money so I could cover the cost of our meal. I laid the money inside the check presenter, laying an additional forty dollars inside as a tip to account for Charles's service and how much time we spent here.

We walked out of the restaurant with our hands tangled together, both of us still laughing and smiling as we walked to the car. I tried to ignore the constant ringing my cell-phone presented in my pocket, making a note inside my head to tell Beatrix to not call me fifty times in a row when we got back to the pack house. I laughed with my mate as I drove us to our next destination, Ashton continuously asking me where we were going as I held onto his hand tightly. The windows were completely down as I drove down the crowded roads, Ashton letting out a laugh as I pulled into a McDonalds Drive-through.

He stared and smiled at me with loving eyes as I ordered us two vanilla ice cream cones, slightly regretting not going somewhere nicer as my phone continued to ring in my pocket. I handed an ice cream cone to Ashton after I paid, him immediately thanking me as I pulled into a parking spot and shut my car off. We ate with smiles on our faces, watching as the sun started to go down as my phone started to ring again. I groaned as I pulled my phone out of my pocket when I finished my cone, Ashton smiling as me softly as he licked the melted ice cream off his fingers. I answered my sister with an annoyed tone.

"What's up?" I spoke, my voice flat as I spoke into the device.

"You need to get back here. Now," she spoke in a frantic manner before hanging up, my eyes darting to Ashton for a split second before I turned the car back on.

[crystaltoa]

Eeee Shauni I always look forward to your commentary! Honestly, you pick up things that I wasn't even consciously aware of, but are still somehow There and do reflect how I view the character/s in some way!

(Caution: Extensive rambling about badgers ahead)

The poses were honestly something I didn't put a lot of thought into, I just kind of drew what came naturally for each of them, but your analysis absolutely tracks with how I see them. Whenua's had a bit of a hard life in canon and virtually all of these AUs for one reason or another, but in KNPS his day job at least has some moments of peace where he can just putter around in the dark reshelving books and cataloguing books and whatnot. There's still the possibility of a Makuta attack, so he doesn't entirely let down his guard, but at the same time he's not braced for an attack and ready to run or fight during every waking moment of every day. I hadn't thought about what his closed/open stance say about him, but that absolutely tracks with how I view his character development.

In KNPS, Toa's eyes glow when they use their elemental or secondary ("mask" but not mask) powers. While Whenua's not actively using his powers here, the aqua-green colour kind of alludes to that. As a werebeast, he doesn't have access to his powers so that green colour doesn't show up there.

Ok, that's a lie. I actually just couldn't find a place for it that made sense in that image, but I sounded really clever for a moment there so I'm going to claim it was my subconscious doing A Thing and it just took the rest of my brain a little while to catch up.

I did consider giving werebeast Whenua a little green bowtie or something (his attempt at feeling somewhat like himself and looking a bit more respectable), but I've tried drawing that before and reached some unexpected complications. Depending on how stylized/realistic I draw him, a bowtie plus the suspenders can either make him look too goofy and cartoony or... if I make him too humanoid looking... what you get is, um, furry Magic Mike, basically. Sir that is a stripper outfit. Put a fucking shirt on that beast.

(Fly? I didn't intentionally draw one, but there might be a few unintended coloured specks in the image courtesy of my puppy Kevin chewing up my stylus, which hasn't quite worked the same since and keeps making unwanted dots and marks. I tried to clean them all up before posting, but I may have missed a few somewhere, My laptop being a bit old and crappy and not quite showing colours properly does not help.)

He is inherently going to look a little goofy as a werebeast with his suspenders and broken glasses, and he may or may not intentionally be going for a bit of a Beatrix Potter cottagecore critter vibe here, but... he's also the size of a small black bear, with long claws and sharp teeth and predator instincts, and woe betide any being who forgets that. In fact, having the instincts of a small animal (as opposed to a large apex predator) probably makes him potentially more dangerous, since he doesn't have the instinctive confidence of being top of the food chain, and is more likely to perceive other beings as a potential threat and react preemptively to that. The consequences of Whenua having a distorted perception of his own size and vulnerability could be potentially funny, but could also have serious consequences for anyone that triggers his fight or flight response.

The alternate werebeast expressions came about because the mouth was giving me a lot of grief in getting the expression right for the main image and I wanted to get a handle on how his face actually worked. I wanted to convey some humanlike emotion (in this case, annoyance) without cartoonifying the face too much. Avoiding stuff like this, basically:

So in a lot of disney and disneyesque art (and by extension, a lot of furry art), the animal's mouth doesn't move from the actual jaw hinge, they bring the movement to the end of the snout to make it move in a more humanlike way. There's nothing wrong with this kind of stylization, of course, but it wasn't what I was going for here and I wanted the mouth to work somewhat like an actual badger's (not sure if I entirely succeeded, but I think I'm getting there). The challenge for the main picture was showing just enough fang to remind you that this guy could mess you up if he wanted to, while still maintaining a fairly Whenua-esque expression and not making him look like a snarling mindless beast.

I did try drawing a smile. Thing is, smiling is fairly rare in nature. For most mammals, baring one's teeth is a sign of aggression. Canines, dolphins and some mustelids can make expressions we perceive as a smile, but searching for "badger smile" gives results like this...

Which is unfortunate for Whenua, since it can make him look frightening even when he's trying to be friendly!

For contrast, I did a content/peaceful expression and an actual deliberate snarl as well. I think the latter looks fairly terrifying and would make a certain werewolf think twice before trying to grab him by the throat again. Still, I could have pushed it even further if I'd wanted to...

Anatomically, his face is a little different from a real badger's. He has a higher forehead to imply there's still a somewhat humanish brain in there, and more of a chin. His ear placement hasn't changed much so he can still wear his modified glasses, though he did have to widen them across the bridge. Though looking at it now, I kind of want to tweak the stripe pattern a little to give him more black markings around the muzzle and a narrower nose stripe, which seems to be a more common colour morph.

Some Whenuas from various fan Human and human-adjacent AUs!

The first image features three versions of Whenua from @magicalgirlmascot's Kini Nui Public School AU, the second is my Toa Metru Fantasy AU /DnD AU and @bionicle-ramblings' fairy tale AU, third is Professor Whenua from my Pokemon AU idea.

Kind of an interesting exercise in bringing out different aspects of a character that relate to his canon self in different ways, a bit like refracting them through a prism. (Also an exercise in silly hair lore)

I've put a few notes in the images but as always, there are a lot of small character details so I'm curious to see what people pick up on.

Also, all of them together for size comparison:

[tainbocuailnge]

fangusklot replied to your post “home alone on a friday night?”

I haven’t personally met him yet but he seems like a exceptionally good lad

he’s the reigning champion of 5 years of the platinum sky cup, a race where everything is allowed and contestants routinely build their raceships into death contraptions to beat up the competition with. meteon is immensely popular among race enthusiasts for winning without ever trying to hinder his opponents and instead just doing everything to go faster, which incidentally also makes his rivals fucking hate his guts cause he doesn’t even cheat to win like the rest of them he’s just fuckin good babey. 

he’s competent and knows it and it shows in his big mouth but he’s not outright cocky cause he’s not really in it to be better than others he’s in it to go fucking fast. he’s usually aloof and focused on improving his own times above all but during his event he gets too caught up in his rivalry with the reigning second place and you gotta remind him of the reason he’s racing in the first place. he’s got a heart full of love but he’s bad at openly appreciating what’s around him so he gets all bashful it’s cute. the moment you recruit him he gives rackam an aneurysm trying to fly the grandcypher like its a raceship

his event was one of the first where cygames really buckled down on making a story heavy event and they put a lot of effort into the visuals too so it’s one of the fan favourite events. it got a rerun not too long ago so it’ll probably be a while before it’s added to the side stories and you can meet him tho

[halcyon-girls]

For the Stellatrix prompts: now that Stella has her invisibility power back, she enjoys using it again from time to time, but Beatrix doesn't seem to appreciate it a lot. Whether she changes her mind is up to you  (you could have Stella hide from her or surprise her or tease her or accidentally forget she's invisible and it leading to misunderstandings, just to clarify what I mean)

I went through a few ideas and settled on this one 😊 Stella finds the return of her invisibility magic a welcome experience. She uses it to wander the halls in peace. That is until it starts playing up and keeping her invisible specifically because of one red-headed girl.

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

Stella flicks her wrist, letting her light magic flow over her body, obscuring herself from the view of others, the magic coming to her easily now that the gem was removed. She walks down the corridors without anyone sparing her a glance. She supposes it’s a little ironic that she became talented in the very magic her mother would use to chip away at her psyche. She would terrify her and claim it to be the fuel that would set Stella’s magic alight. Stella saw it more as the control her mother revered. She sought a replica of her own mind. Stella was anything but.

When she uses this magic, she finds she isn’t afraid of what hides behind the light anymore.

Rather, it was nice to lean against the stones that framed the windows lining her path and watch the world pass by. The trees would shake in the wind and the other students would mill about, classes not due for another hour. She listens to their conversations idly and finds herself having more than a few opinions. She wanted to step out of her shield and shout, ‘He’s definitely a terrible guy!’ to the girl who stood a few meters away waxing over her love interest’s distinct lack of interest.

Instead, she lingers a little longer. With the veil of light swept over her, she needn’t say anything, nor do anything.

That is until her eyes catch the familiar sight of a girl with red hair and dark clothes. She’d know her anywhere. She makes her way over to the other girl, placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘Beatrix.’

Beatrix jumps at the touch, her feet lifting a few inches off the ground as she looks around for the person who touched and spoke to her. Stella looks down at her invisible hand and laughs sheepishly, dropping her invisibility.

She rubs Beatrix’s shoulder. ‘Sorry, I forgot I was using it.’

Beatrix heaves out a sigh and presses a hand to her chest. ‘It’s just you.’ She lowers her hand. ‘Stella, don’t scare me like that.’

Stella reaches for Beatrix’s fallen hand, holding it in both of her own. ‘I promise I won’t do it again.’

Beatrix nods, squeezing Stella’s hands before releasing them. ‘Good. Now, I’ll give you the privilege of sitting next to me in class.’

Stella snorts, nudging her elbow into Beatrix’s side as they walk. ‘The privilege.’

Beatrix takes the nudge and smiles. ‘It’s certainly your utmost privilege to be my friend.’

Stella lowers her arm and they walk the rest of the way to class in relative silence. They settle on idle conversation as they share their day with each other and plans for the night. 

She feels her face flush when Beatrix brushes against her front, sidestepping another student. Beatrix raises a brow, seeming to have noticed the change in the colour of Stella’s cheeks.

Beatrix turns around with a worried expression on her face. ‘Are you alright? I didn’t step on you, did I?’ 

Stella gulps. ‘No, no, it’s just, um, hot in here is all.’

Beatrix narrows her eyes, clearly unconvinced. The corner of her lips rises. ‘You might want to take off your sweater.’

Her mind had quickly become something resemblant to a pile of mush. Without thought, she pulls her sweater off and feels the way it tugs up her shirt, her midriff briefly on display.

She pulls her shirt back down and folds her sweater over her right arm. ‘Yeah, that’s, ah, that’s better.’

Beatrix blinks for a moment, her mouth opening a closing before she settles on her words. ‘Yes. That is very much an improvement.’

Stella bites her lip to stop her smile, enjoying the way Beatrix’s eyes seem to wander over her frame before she spins on her heel, continuing to walk to their class. A flick of her index finger is the only indicator that she wanted Stella to follow her.

She tries to not dwell on the meaning of ‘friend’ with Beatrix. While she walks, she thinks about whether she’d be so thrilled to see Bloom or Musa or really any of her other friends looking at her like that.

She tries to imagine Sky looking at her like that.

She can’t even imagine his face. Beatrix becomes her first and only thought. 

Friends. They were just friends.

She catches up to Beatrix and concedes with her as they write down their notes in class that she wouldn’t use her invisibility magic around her like that again. It had been a truth at the time. She had no intention of using it.

So why does she keep using it?

She walks towards the dining hall, looking forward to lunch with her friends. That is, until she notices one friend, in particular, sitting among the group. She feels the invisibility wash over her before she can even command it. 

What was she doing? She tries to drop the magic, but it is relentless, coiling around her form and tightening its grip. She pulls and yanks and all manner of things to get it to fade. For every second Beatrix looks her way, it seems to rebut her attempts.

She eventually manages to get the magic to fall, but, when she walks over to the table, she finds Beatrix is gone.

She looks around the room, but she’s nowhere to be seen. ‘Where’s-’

‘Beatrix?’ Musa finishes.

There’s no point in hiding it now that the mind fairy knows. ‘Yes, where is she? I saw her here when I came in.’

Bloom speaks up from her left. ‘None of us saw you come in, which is pretty unusual all things considered.’

Of course, they didn’t. Her magic was running rampant for absolutely no reason. She couldn’t tell them that. The thought of her magic becoming uncontrollable once more was too much to bear. 

‘I walked in a little late with a group of students, you must have missed me in the crowd,’ she says instead.

Aisha laughs. ‘Well, that would be a first.’

More like the second. Or the third. Or… However many times she’d recently used her light magic to hide from everyone’s view. She had told herself she was doing it for her own pleasure but now she wasn’t so sure. ‘I’ve got to keep your minds working, don’t I?’

A chorus of mutters and laughter echo from her friends and she finds herself wishing Beatrix’s laughter was in that mix.

She stomps down that thought. What was wrong with her? 

She wishes she knew. Day after day is the same, Beatrix’s eyes drift over her form, and she shifts from corporeal to unseen. She knows Beatrix has caught her in the act a few times with the way her lips purse and her hands ball up. It was unbearable to see. Somehow, the thought of being seen has been much more unbearable.

So, she sits on her bed in her suite after days of this and sighs. She pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her cheek against them.

She hears a knock on her door that persists beyond the point of allowing her to ignore it. ‘Come in.’

Terra walks in with a cup of tea in her hand. ‘Hey, Stella.’

She reaches out, accepts the tea, and takes a few more sips. ‘Hello.’

Terra nudges her over on the bed, making enough space for herself to sit on the edge of it. ‘You should talk to her.’

Stella coughs as her attempt to swallow the tea goes wrong. Once her lungs are cleared she speaks. ‘Excuse me?’

Terra rolls her eyes, pushing at Stella’s knees, forcing her to lower them. ‘Beatrix.’

Stella looks away, taking another sip. ‘Why would I need to talk to her? It’s not like anything has gone wrong.’

Terra rubs her knee and pulls back. ‘Stella, we’re your friends, we’re not blind. Every time she shows up you go invisible. At this point, you’re invisible more than you’re seen. Did she hurt you?’

Stella gives in, turning to face Terra, sniffing loudly as a few tears attempt to fall from her eyes. ‘It’s humiliating to admit.’

Terra reaches for Stella’s hand and holds it. ‘I won’t judge.’

She squints her eyes as she sucks in a breath, preparing to admit the thoughts that had been tumbling around in her mind. ‘I think I like her,’ she blurts.

When Terra tilts her head, seeming to try and work out which ‘like’ she means, she blushes, ducking her head as she mutters out the answer. ‘More than friends.’

Terra laughs, a smile on her face. ‘Well then, why are you hiding? You should absolutely tell her.’

Stella groans. She never had to ask Sky out. Their parents had arranged their partnership and it had been simple. Date him and be pleasant. With Beatrix? She wouldn’t know where to start. ‘How?’ 

Terra shakes her head and opens Stella’s door, the rest of the girls stumbling into the room, their ears clearly having been pressed to it moments prior.

‘Tell her!’ Bloom shouts.

Stella pulls her blanket around her. ‘Any other suggestions?’

Flora, Aisha, Musa, and Terra all repeat it. ‘Tell her.’

Stella throws off her blanket, setting the cup of tea onto her nightstand. ‘Fine! But if it goes terribly, I expect suitemate comfort for the next week.’

Terra offers out her hand, pulling Stella out of the bed. ‘Deal.’

She pulls on a jacket as her suitemates push her out the door and down the hall. Right. That was part one. Now she just had part two. Actually telling Beatrix without going invisible. Great.

She walks down the hall with determination before faltering. What if Beatrix’s suitemates were in the room with her? She could not handle group rejection.

She settles on sending Beatrix a text at the halfway point. ‘Can we meet up and talk?’

Beatrix immediately responds. ‘So you can disappear again?’

She bites her lip. She hadn’t realised just how much she’d started to avoid Beatrix. ‘Not this time,’ she texts back.

For a minute, her screen displays ‘Beatrix is typing’ to her, almost in a mocking way. Finally, it fades and a response is received. ‘Okay.’

Okay? She could work with an okay. ‘Meet me outside? East door?’ She sends.

Beatrix sends another confirmation. Stella sighs in relief and walks down the hall, pushing the door that led outside. She leans against the wall as she waits.

She feels a hand on her shoulder. ‘Stella.’

She wills herself to remain seen. She turns to face Beatrix and smiles. ‘Hi.’

Beatrix purses her lips and crosses her arms. ‘So, where’s your explanation? Hey, Beatrix, every time I see you I go invisible and pretend I’m no longer here even if you’ve clearly seen me!’

Stella frowns and reaches for Beatrix’s hand, pulling her away from the wall and towards a sitting area surrounded by trees. She releases Beatrix’s hands and starts pacing. ‘I just.’ No. Wrong words. ‘I lo-’ Maybe a bit too strong.

Beatrix’s anger starts to fade, and she grabs Stella’s forearm, holding her in place. ‘You can tell me.’

Stella looks down. ‘I find myself going invisible whenever I see you because-’ Because… She struggles with the words, trying to express the truth.

Beatrix’s hand slides under her chin, guiding Stella’s eyes to meet her own. ‘It’s okay.’

Stella takes a breath and rushes the words out. ‘Because I have feelings for you!’

Beatrix’s mouth is agape, but she doesn’t pull away, her hand still holding Stella’s chin. She closes her mouth and swallows, her face taking on a faint flush. ‘You like me?’

Stella nods, her face flushing brightly. ‘So much so my body involuntarily reacts and turns me invisible and I can’t work out how to be visible again.’

Beatrix smiles and uses her spare hand to reach for one of Stella’s hands. ‘I’d like you to stay visible for this.’

‘For wha-’ Her question is cut off by Beatrix’s lips on her own. Her form flickers for a moment and Beatrix squeezes her hand, bringing her back.

Once she’s more sure that she wasn't going to fade, she lifts her own hand up and places it on the back of Beatrix’s neck, pulling her in deeper. She follows Beatrix’s movements with her own, pulling back with heavy breaths and wonder.

‘You like me too?’ Stella asks.

Beatrix laughs. ‘Do you need another kiss to confirm that?’

Stella rubs her thumb against the back of Beatrix’s neck, relishing the way she seems to melt into her touch. ‘Perhaps.’

Beatrix rolls her eyes but obliges, her lips brushing over Stella’s as she speaks. ‘Very well, princess.’

Stella sighs at the return of Beatrix’s lips on her own. She keeps herself visible, feeling no desire to be hidden right now. She slides her spare hand down Beatrix’s back, pulling her closer. Beatrix’s hands grip Stella’s jacket, keeping her in place.

Beatrix pulls back, a smile on her face. ‘You’re still visible.’

Stella leans forward, pressing her forehead against Beatrix’s. ‘I don’t want to hide from you any longer.’

She feels Beatrix’s hand slide up to her cheek. ‘Then don’t. You don’t have to hide from me, princess.’

Stella smiles, removing her hand from Beatrix’s back to reach for Beatrix’s hand. She removes it from her cheek, pressing a kiss to Beatrix’s palm. ‘Never again.’

She looks down at Beatrix, enjoying the flush on her cheeks and the smile on her lips. ‘Good.’

They stay like that for a while longer. Stella remains visible. Beatrix keeps her seen. She relishes that fact. They part with the promise of tomorrow. More than anything, a was a promise that she wouldn’t use her magic to hide, especially not from Beatrix. 

When she enters the suite without invisibility, they all cheer. She accepts their hugs and congratulations. Stella smiles widely, feeling her cheeks hurt from the action. 

With Beatrix, being seen was finally something she didn’t have to fear.

[lovely-oh-so-lovelyyui]

like mother like son - shu’s last moments with Beatrix

Might become a series might not eh, came to me in the shower so enjoy, happy late valentine's. Ignore typos this was done on my phone

He knew she didn’t have long, years of being trained under the watchful eye of his tutors shu knew his mother didn’t have long and if he had to honest he didn’t know how he felt bout that.

It all came to a halt one evening, his mother lay on a bench in the garden two empty bottles of wine by her. Anyone who said Beatrix was the epitome of perfection obviously never knew her. She was just a girl barely of age when his bastard of an old man had chained her to her fate in the sakamaki household. She was just a girl playing dress up and house,who but him would know better after all he was the same.

“Ririe” a voice called never ‘shu’, he had wondered why once. After a ball he had asked her, she had enough champagne that day to be pleasant enough for invasive questions he’d never dare ask her sober.

“You’re my son, she had said, my blood, my pride, yes you are your father’s heir and you are a man you will become just like the rest of them. He’d be lying if he said it hadn’t stung. But before all of that I remember holding you when you were so small and bright, as much as I hate the gossip of the high court in a marriage of despair, you are my sun. I remember first time your father sent you on a hunt with the soldiers I was furious but I am weak against your father, against the people who constantly watch me like circling vultures, I despise who I am watching you grow it astounded me someone like you once was a part of me and it broke me not to be able to do more for you. But you were always strong, so if I couldn’t keep you safe I’d make you strong so they’d never be able to get at you like the ruined me. Her eyes started to glaze over but she held them in and how he’d wanted to show his brother,the court, the high fucking council how tired his mother was, how burdened that she couldn’t even cry for her son as a mother but stayed rooted to his spot holding her like she held him when he was a child, it wasn’t often his mother held him these days.

But even if you become their king, a tyrant, a murder, a saviour, a beacon, a monster in a man’s shell like your father, even if you are shu sakamaki crown Prince. I dare them to fucking try and ruin my bright boy ririe - he will always be there” a crazed giggle as she looked up at him. He gulped unsure if it was his tears on his coat were his or hers after all no matter what he did he would always be her son he knew that every time he looked at a reflective surface, he’d long come to peace with the fact his mother’s face would haunt him for eternity after all, what was her’s was his.

He was a boy then, he didn’t understand the words, yes as a king he’d make difficult choices but he’d never become his father, he saw the hysteria cordelia fell to everyday, he heard lady Christa weep it was a shrill raw sound sometimes even he’d cry simply listening to her a beautiful compassionate woman wounded and locked up, and he always saw his mother the way she would limp in pain after his father would visit her, how she’d take longer baths those mornings trying to scrub away his existence itself, how no one ever saw the bruises creep out from under her sleeves, the way she looked at herself in the mirror on the day of their anniversary he had gone to her room to call for her.

What he saw still haunts him the way she had curled up in front of her mirror, her favourite necklace (a heirloom of her mother’s) replaced by heavy pearls that would make any lady but apparently his mother flush in delight they were a gift from his father if he remembered, she looked into the mirror her face crumpled eyes swollen and red, her cheeks a ruddy pink and tear stained from her kohl, a fresh wave of tears overcame her as she grabbed at the necklace as if it was his father’s hand choking her. He had closed the door and stood there turning away anyone that tried to disturb his mother, he wasn’t sure what he could do in that moment but it felt taboo to disturb her. Eventually reiji had come, whatever expression he had at that time was enough to make reiji stop in his tracks his eyes widening as if shu at grown another head he would’ve laughed if he could but in that moment he didn’t know if he could even smile again seeing the pain his mother was in. Reiji quietly came and stood by his side, it could’ve been hours later she came out and he almost got whiplash with how put together she looked. Like her normal self, when she saw both of them she made one his favourite expressions a signature half smile of hers as she took each of their hands and walked into the grand hall. Normally it would’ve been Karl’s job but damn it if he let his father anywhere near her after today, he didn’t take his eyes off of her that night but no matter how hard he looked nothing it was as if he had seen someone else in her room. Guilt had consumed him wondering how often his mother kept these emotions of hers so private that her mask was impenetrable.

He had told himself he would never hurt someone like that, yet he was so wrong he remembers the first girl he ever broke not killed no he’d killed many people. She was some duke’s daughter hanging around trying to win his favour he’d had thought he’d play with her a bit the next time he remembers thinking with clarity he looked at the girl and she was empty, she was still living, breathing, she responded to him but her soul was utterly broken. He could feel her tremble in his sheets when she thought he was asleep. He had waited for the guilt to come, the shame yet he couldn’t deny the utter glee he had felt mocking her waiting for some time of response.

He’d felt a stare from one of the windows sending her back home in a carriage, he looked up wondering who dares to judge the crown Prince so openly. The look on his mother’s face, all the guilt he should’ve felt came like a dagger in the back, she looked completely and utterly porcelain, the disinterest on her face had terrified him more than anything in life had, the monsters his father made him fight as a boy couldn’t compare to this, not even the fire had compared to this. He felt a heavy weight settling itself deep in his stomach it’s tendrils wrapping around every limb, choking him, cotton filled his throat, his eyes were prickling and his mother turned her back on him. For the first time she had turned on him, he didn’t blame her gods he couldn’t imagine how betrayed she felt. They were both prideful creatures he knows he would do it again just to feel something and he would keep stabbing his mother in the the back ripping her heart out from her chest right in front of her and she would turn her back showing him the many scars he would leave on her along with his fathers and the gaping hole where her heart should be . An easy transaction, after all mother knew best, she knew he’d become like this.

That was the last time he remembered being able to read her, she had closed him out, he was now a duty to her too, he too made her cry in front of her mirror clutching his shirt from when he was just a boy whilst he got shitfaced drunk and defiled who knows how many women at his birthday ball. He didn’t know what he could do, the weight was heavier everyday, it was bittersweet he’d finally pushed everyone away she didn’t hound him like before only coming to tell him about his duties and chores as she ignored her. Ignored the furrow of her eyebrows as she wondered how to bring him back, ignoring how her eyes begged him to lock away the imposter who took the place of her son before she turned away, and he ignored how she’d clutch at his arms, sobbing drunk out of her mind warbling about her sweet son and the cruel mean shu who had replaced her son. Those nights were the hardest no matter how loud the mosaic was he still remembers her whimpers and sobs. But at least when she was drunk she’d look at him.

He went to sit by her bench, she turned her head to him and whispered “I am to die” he would’ve brushed it off as the wind considering how quiet it was if he wasn’t staring at her face tryito detail everything to memory. He should’ve known his mother knew, she always did. She turns and lays her head on his lap, shocked is a light word for what he felt these days she avoids him like the plague. The coolness of her skin, and her light curls were a welcome feeling as he brushed her hair with his hand. It felt like he was being ripped open.

“I was never meant to be a mother, she started, but I don’t think I regret it, how cruel of her to remind him she still loved him no matter how far he fell from grace, I definitely regret not being able to do more. Did you know I used to dance?” One of her half smiles appeared, gods he really didn’t know what he would do if his brother killed her.

He listened he was good at listening, as she talked like it was a normal day from when he was a child and she would read to him, about some new books she had asked for she wouldn’t be able to read as if she was going in holiday and not dying, she talked about when she was little and danced until her father broke her legs, she told him she feared his father would do the same if he kept playing around, she told him all the recipes he loved as a child that she would make when they went on picnic, reiji’s favourites to not be mad at his brother like his brother was just borrowing a toy of his and not ripping his mother away from him. She told him to stop by christa’s tower and play music for her sometimes if he ever found the time, like he was extremely busy and not a good for nothing. She started crying, and she held him as she told him about the dress she would like to wear in her casket. Even in dying she planned everything as to make it perfect, as to always try and pacify everyone’s needs but her own.

She told him not to grieve her, she was a horrible being to grieve anyways - she tells him she doesn’t care for the crown as long as he grows to be a good man, he laughs at that but the hope in her eyes doesn’t fade so he shuts up. She asks him if it wouldn’t burden him to visit her grave every once in a while and he knows he’ll want to kill reiji the next time he sees him, she asks if one day he finds a lover to bring them too and if she’s lucky grandchildren as well. She pauses and whispers to him if he wouldn’t mind trying to bring reiji too, if he was her pride reiji was her joy and he hated the both of them for doing this to him. A mother who was just a lost girl, and a hurt little boy who just wanted someone to hold him for a brother yet neither would ever be able to say or find the words to tell each other no matter how eloquent they were.

Grief she says is all the love you cannot give, it gathers in the corner of your eyes, the lump in your throat, the hollow part of your chest, grief is just love with no place to go.

She tells him to mourn all he could not for no one could judge him at his mother’s funeral, as if she didn’t matter to him and he could think about anyone else at her funeral.

When she walks him back to his room that night, she holds him for a long time, and tucks him in. She tells a story he loved when he was a boy, yet neither of them stop crying. She leaves eventually to get ready, where reiji would escort her from her room to wherever the vampire Hunter he hired was waiting. He watches from the shadows as reiji picks her up a smug look in his eyes that makes him want to throttle him, and as usual all traces of her crying is gone. As put together as ever.

When she leaves, he finally he realises how tired he is so he goes to his room curls up and cry’s, he crys even when he hears reiji’s footsteps go to his room, even when they come to give him the message his mother is dead, even when all the tapestries are changed to black in mourning.

But when the morning of the funeral comes he walks out looking as if nothing had changed and the perfect example of apathy. He stands as the maids dress him, no one calls him out for never looking at a mirror through the entire thing, he stands and greets people at the funeral like a fool. He hears his brother’s whisper, he doesn’t dare to look at reiji through the entire thing knowing it would do nothing to calm the rage he feels, reiji for once keeps his mouth shut, thankfully he has enough sense to not provoke shu.

It’s a somber affair his father at least shows up on time, cordelia opens her mouth but he cuts her off before she can even say the first word. He doesn’t know what his expression looks like but it’s enough for her to sulk off in the corner.

He does not break, just as his mother never broke yet he feels so fragile that a breeze would take him to pieces and he would be carried away all over the world looking for his mother yet unable to find her.

It is late at night days after the funeral, when he grabbed a box under his desk. There lay 2 letters, one was a letter apologising to the duke’s daughter for what he had done to her, and another to his mother for how he had turned out. Both written as his conscious ate at him yet he felt too childish ever sending them. Deep down he knew he wrote them because he’d never be able to look his mother in the eye whilst he asked for her forgiveness, and he had no right to ask the girl for her forgiveness. He added three more pieces of parchment to the box that night, the letter from the vampire Hunter confirming to kill his mother, the letter from court declaring his mother’s unfortunate demise, and the last the longest a letter to his mother about all the things he could never tell her.

[shaunsummers]

Truthfully, Siren catching her on a pee or snack run kept her hands to herself and her nerves calm for other reasons. And double truth, it had been a while and Siren was.....really good. But being put on blast and knowing that their little quickies hadn't been as sneaky as she thought, Tek could only wish that the waves of mortification would carry her out to sea and away from here. Fly like a bird, Forrest Gump style.

Meanwhile, Beatrix was rolling in the sweet drama juice. "The rest of you sound like you need to get laid. Let the newlyweds fingerbang in peace." Beatrix laughs, giving a sly wink down to the apple-red Tek, which only makes her groan and bury her face into Siren's chest. By now, Beatrix was just stirring the pot, but this shit was hilarious.

Tek's Birthday!

"Devin suggested it." Charmed, she places another peck against her forehead, happy to see the tears had quickly dissipated. Though, as Sam travels down the stairs, Siren couldn't help but to take notice with a slight perk of her brow. Holy shit. Okay, maybe she didn't know who anybody was supposed to be but one fact remained the same; this party was going to test her. So much ass and tits. Everywhere, just everywhere. Though, hearing her sister yell from the kitchen was enough of a distraction. "You can wait. I'm busy."

"No, you're not!" Lilith snaps, lightly throwing her hands in the air.

In the living room, Devin sits on the couch as she rolls the assembly line of birthday joints. They'd need plenty and she was dude for the job. But, Siren and Tek, fucking hell, it didn't stop even after the camping trip. So, hearing all that was going on behind her, she easily pops off, "Can you guys stop making out for five seconds??"

"I'm not making out with Tek. I'm saying hi." Siren replies in defense, slightly bobbing her head. It never ceased to amaze her how Devin, at any given moment, would try her. Like she was the one. "But that's a great idea. I should! I should because it's her birthday!"

With a heavy sigh, Lilith turns to the sink to wash her hands, the silver lining being that they were getting close to the finish line; and technically didn't need her sister at this point. Still, it was a bit irritating. "Siren, you need to leave that poor girl alone before you break her in half."

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

Tek grins under her kiss, but hearing Devin's bullshit, she can only join in on Siren's shit-stirring. "So what if we do? You jealous? Don't worry, Devin, I'll make out with you, too! I'm DC, you're Marvel, we can be star-crossed lovers! Enemies to boos!"

Neither Sam nor Quinn were acting brand new, so they only laugh in the whole exchange. But Beatrix?

"What?" Her eyes flit between them, trying to process this new and...unexpected information. Not that she knew much about Siren other than what Shaun told her—it's not as if they ever talked, and she hadn't seen her at all outside of school—but how? Just picturing them having sex immediately vaulted her into laughter. "Oh my god, when did this happen?"

[laurelsofhighever]

Alistair x f!Cousland AU

SPOILERS FOR THE FALCON AND THE ROSE

--

Almost two years after civil war nearly tore Ferelden apart, Alistair has settled into his role as king despite the cost of the victory. Having come to Orlais to lead trade talks with Empress Celene and representatives from the Free Marches, he hopes to build a stronger future for his people. But grief and guilt still haunt him, the expectations placed on his shoulders cut deep, and to top it all off, there's a stranger in the Winter Palace with the power to shatter his world once again.

With a sigh, the King of Ferelden stared down at the mask in his hands, the red dye a match to the velvet of his cloak and the rich fabric in the rest of his clothes, the royal colours of the Theirin line, and the finely tooled likeness of a mabari snarling out of the leather in an elegant snub for the rules of the Game. A king’s mask ought to be made of gold, after all, as a way to reflect his station, but that scandal would be nothing to the one he planned to cause by not wearing it over his face. Already from below, strains of soft, unobtrusive music drifted above the murmur of voices gathered in the vaulted ballroom of Halamshiral’s Winter Palace, preluding the night’s extravagance. He couldn’t delay much longer in wading into that seething, perfumed mass, however much he wanted to.

Next to him, Fergus Cousland stood arrayed in similar finery. The golden Laurels embroidered into the deep blue velvet of his doublet marked his identity as the Teyrn of Highever, and the shadowed line between his dark brows revealed that his eagerness to attend the party just about matched that of Alistair himself. He caught the king looking, saw the fidget betrayed in his fingers, and drew in a weary breath.

“These talks might be just what it takes to secure lasting peace with Orlais,” he offered, an empty repetition of Alistair’s other advisors. “It’s more than Cailan ever hoped for.”

The king’s lip curled. “You and I both know that’s not the real reason I’m here. I could have left that stuff to Élodie.”

The Arlessa of South Reach had proven a capable ambassador in the time since the end of the civil war against Loghain, using her connections in the Orlesian court to divert the potential wave of old resentments that would have sought to take advantage of Ferelden’s instability as it recovered. It was thanks to her efforts that dignitaries from every Marcher port across the Waking Sea had gathered under the auspicious gaze of Empress Celene in the hopes of formalising a network of trade throughout southern Thedas, and no doubt she was already gliding through their ranks, smoothing the way for her liege lord to grace the crowd and start all the ladies fawning.

Too used to the hopes of noble daughters tilting for a throne, he doubted much of the flattery would be genuine. The only change to the usual pursuit was the fact that Celene now numbered among the hunting party, her desire to win him for herself and Orlais all but common knowledge. At their first meeting that afternoon she had been perfectly polite, but the weight of her gaze on the back of his head as he was shown out to his own apartments had sent a shiver like the lick of cold rain down his spine, and the thought of what she would do with any kind of sovereign power over Ferelden had thoroughly put him off his lunch. There had been a time when, in the entrance hall of Redcliffe Castle and with the warning of a witch ringing in his ears, he had told Rosslyn that the idea of being dangled like bait for political advantage disgusted him. And she had understood his distaste, had reached for his hand with softness in her eyes. He had kissed her hand that night, for the first time.

A sympathetic look from Fergus dragged him out of his contemplation, but thankfully he chose not to repeat the platitudes that had taken to following the king like footprints.

It’s been over a year, almost two, Teagan had scolded. We allowed you time to mourn but you must think of what is best for this country.

Only Fergus really understood. He was the only one in the same position, a lord with a domain left unsecured by the lack of an heir, with those roundabout all but scoffing at his lack of stomach to get one. Shared pain and politics had drawn them together after the army’s return from Ostagar, and now, aside from being a staunch ally in the Landsmeet, he was one of the few Alistair could class as a true friend.

“If I could spurn my duty in this, I would,” he said now.

“But you’re a Cousland.” Humour bled into Alistair’s voice, cold and tinged with grief. “I notice Karyna chose not to come.”

Fergus let his eyes fall closed. “She… ended things between us. She said she wanted to focus on her clinic, but I think part of it was wanting to get out of my shadow, and the expectations of…” a wave of his hand “all of this.”

“I’m sorry.”

He had once broached the subject of changing the law to allow mages to marry, but Fergus had refused, pointing out that what Ferelden needed after a year mired in civil war was stability, not an Exalted March called down because its new king wished to flout the Maker’s supposed Word. Too many would have accused him of playing favourites, too many more who would have raged against the idea of a mage being raised above them – even if Karyna Amell herself came from a line of Marcher nobles. She might be a talented healer dedicated to her people, kind, loyal, and level-headed, but none of that mattered to those who saw any unshackled mage as a prelude to the return of ancient Tevinter.

Fergus waved away his concern and set his own mask in place, pushed back from his forehead. “Let’s get this over with.”

When they appeared at the top of the stairs, the noise level in the whole room dimmed like a door closing on the roar of a great wind. All eyes turned to follow their progress into the melee as Guard-Commander Morrence, Alistair’s right-hand and bodyguard, peeled away from her post by the door and fell into line one pace behind her charge as a dour, watchful shadow. Curtseys and coquettish giggles fluttered up to them, but Alistair ignored them in favour of searching out the form of Élodie Bryland, smiling out from the crowd. Like the rest of the Fereldan entourage, she wore her mask as an accessory rather than a second face, the emerald green of South Reach’s colours rich against her blonde hair.

He felt like a ram walking into a den of blightwolves in broad daylight. Even after so long, so many days he could no longer count them from memory, a shard of his heart stirred in the tattered remains of his chest at the unbidden thought of Rosslyn’s disdain for his current company, the tight, tiny smirk she would have worn hidden at the corner of her mouth for only him to see. Her face was beginning to blur in his mind, but the reminder only ever added more layers to the pain. The pieces flaked away one after the other like rust on a forgotten monument – the sound of her laugh, her scent, the exact shade of her eyes – and every time he noticed another detail by its absence he found himself dragged back to the ruins of Ostagar, staring across the precipice into the void all over again.

Dwelling on his loss amidst the glamour of the Orlesian court would not be wise, however, so he shook himself into courtesy as he followed along after Élodie, smiled at every breezed introduction, and let himself slip into the easy gentility that had so far served him well as king. The meandering currents of conversation carried both him and Fergus at a steady pace to the other side of the vaulted entrance hall, where his left-hand waited for them.

“Ah, there’s my favouritest sneaky person in the world,” he called out when he got close enough for his voice to carry. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself?”

Leliana’s red hair flashed like a beacon as she turned towards him. Unlike Ferelden’s ambassador, she carried her mask on a stick in her gloved hands, and she twirled it up to cover the purse of her smile as she answered. “Your Majesty – Your Lordship. This is a grand assembly tonight, no? Little compares to the full splendour of the Winter Palace.”

“At least not in the way of architecture,” he answered genially. To be polite, he let his gaze wander the rows of gilt pillars with their garlands of blush-roses, the delicate silk streamers hanging from the crystal chandelier. Even more than Élodie, who was Orlesian by birth, Leliana fit in with the glitter, the jewels and the compliments that cut sharper than daggers, and put together, the two of them made a formidable team.

Especially when they joined forces against him.

“Your Majesty, if you will permit me, may I present Lady Ellana Pontival, younger sister to Vicomte Tremane Pontival, and Lady Cassandra Pentaghast, seventy-eighth in line for the throne of Nevarra and the Right-Hand of the Most Holy Divine Beatrix.”

Turning his gaze to the two women, Alistair dipped his head in a customary greeting. If Leliana had set out to find the two most contrasted people in the room, then she had probably succeeded; where one lady seemed about to drown in her layers of ruffled lace and pastel silks, the other cut an austere, imposing figure in the formal uniform of a Seeker of Truth, and like the Fereldans, she went unmasked. The ever-watchful Eye of the Maker, cut through with the Sword of Mercy, peered out from a pin clasped to her shoulder, a sullen reminder that if things had been different, the King of Ferelden would have ended up a templar instead.

“With so many connections, you must be used to parties like this,” he tried. The Seeker held herself with the economy of a soldier at ease, but the pinpoint of her onyx gaze made him itch.

“Hardly,” she said, in low, rich tones. “I am here at the request of Most Holy, who appreciates the unprecedented nature of this gathering. I myself am used to less… lavish surroundings.”

“But how do you find it so far, Majesté?” interrupted Lady Ellana. “Do you find it pleasing?”

He decided not to remark on the breathy quality to her voice, nor the sidelong way she was looking at him, and shrugged. “That would depend on whether we’ll soon have any sign of those – what are they called – cannapays?”

Leliana chuckled. “I’m afraid Your Majesty’s appetite will have to be content for now.”

“I’ve never known a society where it was considered polite not to feed your guests.”

“If one is full of too much heavy food, one cannot properly enjoy the dancing,” Élodie chided, laying a hand on his arm and less amused than her counterpart at his deliberate butchery of her native language.

“Ah.” He suppressed a grimace. “Yes. That.”

The indomitable Lady Ellana pressed forward with a flutter of her eyelashes. “Are you presently engaged, Majesté? For the first dance, I mean.”

Mostly to avoid meeting Fergus’ eye, Alistair cast his gaze out over the crowd. “Oh I’m sure someone has spoken for me.”

“I myself love nothing so much as dancing – and the waltz especially.” An elegant hand rose to cover a laugh. “So charming, yet so daring, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’ll take your word for it, my lady,” he replied with a forced smile. “It’s not one of my preferred pastimes.” The last time he had danced, it had been his wedding day. If he had known –

Lady Ellana gasped. “How tragic! That truly is a shame.”

The Seeker’s mouth twitched.

“I understand your ascension to society was fairly recent, perhaps you only have yet to acquire a taste for it. Perhaps the right partner –”

“I think it’s more to do with other demands on my time,” he interrupted. “Like keeping my people safe and fed. Besides, I prefer being outside.”

An uncertain silence met his words, discomfort at the bite in his tone that couldn’t be answered without causing a minor diplomatic incident.

Leliana recovered first. “The night is young and His Majesty is fond of modesty. I’m sure he will have time and attention for all those who wish it once his duties to his host are fulfilled.”

“Has Her Radiance arrived yet?” Fergus asked.

With a smile, Leliana nodded and motioned for them to follow her towards the doors of the grand ballroom. Neither she nor Élodie dared break their façades to scold him for being so taciturn, so Alistair pretended not to notice their silent disapproval. The cloying mixture of perfumes and sweat wafting through the hall, the crowd of heat from so many bodies in a confined space, all of it pressed on his already sour mood, and if he had to be rude to get out of an awkward conversation, what did he care? Whispers followed with the eyes on him, words just loud enough to catch his ear before darting back into the throng like birds flitting through a summer hedgerow. The speculative edge to them made him clench his teeth. There were insinuations, appraisals and judgements, musings on his preference for comme les chiens before the words dissolved every time into peals of muffled laughter.

“It’s almost enough to make a man jealous,” Fergus huffed at his side. “They didn’t even look at me. Not one pitying glance.” Time had healed most of the injuries he had taken in the months as Howe’s prisoner during the war, but some of the damage had been too much and too long neglected for even magic to fix; his cane tapped along the polished floor with every other step.

“How about next time I hide behind you?” Alistair asked. “You can do all the talking and I’ll stand and look aloof and interesting.”

“You just want an excuse to – what is it?”

He sensed a change in pressure in the eyes on him, an intensity of regard that set itself apart from that of the fawning mass seeking his attention. After almost two years on the throne, the concept of assassinations wasn’t entirely foreign, but as he watched Morrence scan the room he saw no sudden rise in tension to say she had spotted any maniacs with giant weapons about to pounce. A shadow did perhaps flash on the edge of his vision, but as he turned it was lost among the sea of faces waiting for acquaintances, for their turn to be announced, or for their own glimpse at dog-lord royalty.

He put the feeling from his mind. Empress Celene, resplendent in the purple and gold of House Valmont, stood at the far end of the ballroom above the sunken dancefloor and watched the obeisance of the people being announced, in the same way a fisher might wait with their spear poised to strike at a promising target. Already, dozens of couples mingled beneath the bright beeswax candles staving off the autumn dark outside, their fans held up to conceal the judgements passed on every newcomer.

When Alistair’s own turn to pace the length of the gauntlet came after a few moments of waiting, she smiled behind her mask and floated down the steps to meet him on an equal level, which only meant he got to see the avaricious gleam in her eye up close as she held out her hand. As he bent his head over it, he wondered if the look was meant to be alluring, but her fingers were cool and fine-boned under his, lacking callouses from swordwork, and the only thought that ran through his mind was that even when warmed by the fire a stone remained a stone.

“Majesté,” she crooned in delicately accented Common. “Be welcome. This meeting has been long anticipated.”

He had practiced his response for an hour in the mirror. “Thank you, Radiance. It is my hope that this moment can be the first step towards a better accord between our two nations.”

“It is ours as well. Please, join us in the gallery.” She turned. “And when the dancing starts, might we suggest the company of one of our ladies-in-waiting? They are all very accomplished dancers.”

“Uh…” He risked tripping over the considerable hem of Celene’s gown to a glance upward, to where three women of equal height watched the two of them from behind identical golden masks set with amethysts.

“Is this surprise?” the empress asked him, and laughed. “How very forward to expect a more prestigious partner so early in the evening. It seems the manners of Ferelden and Orlais have yet to fully understand one another.”

“Isn’t that why we’re both here?” he replied. “Though I have to confess, my mind wandered from the thought of dancing.”

“Oh? And where did it wander to?”

He nodded to the three attendants waiting at the top of the stairs. “It must get awkward on name-days if you can’t tell them apart.”

For the next half an hour, guests continued to trickle in as the mixed company watched from above, the steady ream of announcements and introductions keeping the threat of dancing at bay, and each name was accompanied by a whispered summary of all the associated scandals recounted by the waiting-women at Alistair’s side. He found their sameness disconcerting, as if at any moment they might steal away his mask and then ask which of them was hiding it under their skirts like a bait-and-switch scam in the marketplace.

When the castellan finally folded away his list of names and bowed an exit, the closest of Celene’s women reached up with a smile as thick and false as her makeup. “There is still some time until the dancing begins, Majesté – would you like to take a turn through the rest of the rooms while we wait?”

“Why not?” He forced a smile of his own. “Where do you think we should start?”

“Perhaps the long hall?” She began to steer him away from the rest of the party. “There are so many people you should meet!”

Before he could be disappeared entirely, he cleared his throat and called over his shoulder to Élodie. “We’ve been offered a tour of this fabulous palace,” he explained. “I don’t think we should miss it.”

“I am at Your Majesty’s disposal,” the ambassador replied, and stepped up to his other side

The tour turned out to be less a way to introduce him to Orlais’ finest and more a way to show him off as an accessory. With both Morrence and Élodie as chaperones to shield him from the worst of their dainty manners, he managed to stumble through pleasantries and inane topics of conversation, and even gave his opinion on Grand Duke Gaspard’s mission to quell giants in the Deauvin Flats without tying his tongue in any knots. He told bad jokes and people tittered behind their hands. In one room he was drawn into speculation about the merits of breeding nugs.

And throughout it all, the weight of the same mysterious scrutiny from before itched across his shoulders, making his clothes too tight, too coarse against his skin. Somebody watched him, or else he was in the first stages of some illness. In a move disguised as a readjustment of the faded leather bracers at his wrists, he checked the pair of daggers hidden in his sleeves, and then eyed the extra sword buckled at Morrence’s waist. Being his bodyguard permitted her to carry weapons where he could not, but he rarely went unarmed himself and the idea of being completely defenceless struck him as foolish – and so, the compromise, with the strict understanding that Maric’s runed blade would stay sheathed except in direst need.

The feeling followed him back to the dancefloor as the castellan announced the first cotillion and a charming smile appeared before him, attached to a name and a title that he forgot instantly. When the first notes cascaded down from the court musicians he took his partner’s hand and fell into the steps to distract from his unease, the beats f the dance like the repetitions of a battle drill that kept him turning, and facing, and weaving through the room. And then the music ended. Someone thrust another woman into his path, and then another, until he was breathless and overheated from the exercise, and relieved that he had yet to trip over his own feet.

In a pause between the sets, he tried to catch Leliana’s eye in the gallery above to ask to be rescued before he could be forced towards a refreshments table. To his dismay, she was too intent on the crowd to notice, watching for advantage or threat so that he could make a show of festive enjoyment – no easy feat considering how the entire room was staring at him.

No, not the entire room.

There. The flash of shadow that had followed him all night resolved itself into a woman who turned her face away from him as soon as their gazes met. Pearls were pinned in her dark hair, and the silk of her gown flashed with the violet-green iridescence of starling feathers, dazzling enough that Alistair wondered how he had missed it before. She retreated up the stairs, trying all too hard to disappear into the crowd in a manner that deliberately kept him out of her line of sight.

“Majesté?”

His current partner had noticed his distraction. He smiled down at her, but like the needle of a compass his gaze swung back to the strange woman, whose exit had been waylaid by a man with a shock of thin, greying hair poking out from under his yellow chevalier’s feather. He bowed over the Starling’s hand, boorish and insipid, and through her reluctance she cast her gaze around the room as if seeking an excuse. Her eyes lit on Alistair again, before skittering away up to the ceiling when she caught him looking.

Gotcha.

“Will you excuse me, my lady?” he begged of the young woman on his arm. “I have to talk to my advisor. You there, Ser! I’m afraid this beauty has been bereft of a partner, if you’ll oblige me? Thank you.”

He forgot the girl as soon as he handed her off. The music started. Leliana, noticing his approach up the stairs, nodded and plucked a glass of Antivan white from the tray of a passing server, handing it to him with a subtle gesture that let him sidle close enough to not be overhead.

“Have you seen her?” he asked.

“The woman in the dark colours?” She tilted her head in amusement. “Of course. She has been watching you, and does not care for the crowd flowing around her. She knows how to walk through a room of nobles but subterfuge is not her strength. And yet… there is something familiar about her. It worries me.”

For a moment, they watched from their vantage point in the gallery. The Starling moved through the room with grace enough to catch the eye, but with too much economy to fit in with the flounces of the rest of the dancers, the poise of a warrior more than a courtier. Still, the patience with which she dealt with her partner had to be admired. Alistair winced every time the old boor overstepped the bounds of propriety to tread on her toes; part of him wanted to step in between them and pull her from the line, if only to save her feet from bruising, but the strange urge didn’t stop him noticing how she cast her gaze to every corner of her room to avoid the man in front of her – every corner, except the place where he himself was standing.

“Find out who she is,” he grunted to Leliana, and pushed away from the rail.

Momentarily freed of his obligations in the dancing, he wound his way through the press of nobles, exchanging pleasantries, until he spotted Fergus resting his legs in one of the gilt-backed chairs that had been set at the edges of the room and made for him, worried about the guarded expression on his friend’s face. The reason for the scowl became apparent when the couple standing between them turned and stopped Alistair dead in his tracks.

“Ah – Your Majesty, it is good to see you. You’re looking well.” Eamon, the former Arl of Redcliffe, straightened from his bow as if the man he was addressing hadn’t been instrumental in his exile from Ferelden over two years before. He wore a mask like an Orlesian, with only the grey trim of his beard visible beneath its swirling, enamelled lines. On his arm, the once-Arlessa Isolde wore one almost identical, save for the extra decoration of feathers around the rim.

“What are you doing here?” Alistair blurted.

“We are guests of Her Radiance, of course,” Eamon replied with a blink. “I can see time has not been generous in your perspective towards me, but I would not quarrel with you here and mar Ferelden’s standing.” He swallowed. “Though it is late to say it, please accept my condolences for your loss.”

“Condolences?” Anger coiled in Alistair’s gut, kept at bay only by the interested stares of the people around him. Eamon had done his best to make sure he and Rosslyn were separated – had nearly succeeded – and now he dared to offer remorse?

“How are you enjoying Orlais, Your Majesty?” Isolde asked before he could storm away and blow all their diplomatic efforts.

“The weather’s nice. Please excuse me.”

Below them, the dance finished. Leliana slipped into the dispersing crowd with the ease of a master and cut the Starling from the crowd like a shepherd singling out a ram. Fergus joined him as he leaned over the rail to watch their conversation, Eamon and Isolde already forgotten, and caught the direction of his gaze.

“Has someone caught your eye?” he asked.

“No.” Alistair waved a hand. “No, it’s not like that.”

The Starling was turned away from Leliana, shrinking back as if to avoid a blow, but his left-hand could not be outmatched so easily and peered closer nonetheless. And then she drew back. Her mask flicked up with a twitch of her wrist to fully cover her face, and the Starling reached out for her elbow in an urgent gesture that conveyed as much familiarity as alarm. They knew each other. The words that passed between them were too far away to hear. Leliana paused, then nodded, and together the two of them retreated from the bright lights of the dancefloor into the shadows at the furthest corner of the room.

Fergus noticed. “Well that was strange.”

“I don’t like it. Will you be alright here?”

“For now.” He shrugged. “Holding court in the corner holds much more appeal than sweating about with people I don’t care for. A younger version of me might have tried to forget myself in one of these pretty smiles, but now…” The liquid in his glass caught the light as he tilted it for inspection.

“It’s not so easy,” Alistair agreed.

He left his friend still contemplating his drink and rounded the gallery with Morrence in tow, not straight for Leliana but angling for Élodie, who had taken up entertaining the delegates from Ostwick and made a nice middle ground. He barely registered the answers he gave to their polite enquiries as he approached. The Starling had disappeared and Leliana was wending her way towards one of the quieter hallways, where there were balconies with doors that could be minded by one’s guards to glare at any passing eavesdroppers. She flashed him a brief glance and a nod.

He thought quickly, turning to his ambassador.

“My lady, you’re looking a little warm, and I’ve neglected you.” He shot her what he hopes was a winning smile. “I hope you’ll forgive me, you’ve worked so hard, after all. Why don’t we get you some fresh air?”  

Élodie frowned at him, but nodded. “Your Majesty is very kind. I am a little flustered, now that you mention it. If you will excuse me, sers.”

Threading her hand through his arm, he hustled her away with as much nonchalance as he could muster, while she, sensing his mood, kept quiet. They met Leliana a few moments later on a trellised balcony overlooking the gardens, or as much as could be seen of them beyond the torchlight.

“Well?” he asked, almost before the door closed behind him.

“Have you two been hatching plans?”

His left-hand let the mask fall from her face, though she kept it close, fidgeting with it. “The lady… presents no danger.”

“Lady?” repeated Élodie.

“There’s no need to look so hopeful.” Alistair rolled his shoulders. “We caught someone acting suspicious. Did you find anything out? You looked like you were surprised when you found out who she was.”

“I… knew her in another life.” Leliana hesitated. “She thanked the King of Ferelden for his regard, but said she would rather not become a spectacle.”

“A disagreement with family, perhaps,” Élodie supplied.

The corner of Leliana’s mouth lifted. “I did not ask.”

Without even waiting long enough for him to draw breath, she bowed and swept back into the hall. He caught sight of Morrence, watching her go with something very like suspicion written in her features, but the expression flickered back into a blank before he could be certain.

Behind him, Élodie cleared her throat.

“It is a shame this woman is not what you hoped,” she said. “I would see you happy.”

He snorted. “I didn’t hope anything – and I was happy.”

“You could be so again, if you allowed it. You cannot fight your duty forever.”

He bit back the retort squeezing past the sudden lump in his throat. Reminding her that her own husband had died in the siege at South Reach would be rather ungallant, especially considering the genial nature of the evening so far, and he had tried hard to curb the spiteful edge to his temper over the past two years. He wanted to be better. Rosslyn would have wanted him to be better.

As the thought spiralled and led his mind towards the dark precipice that would mean yet another sleepless night, the nature of the sound inside the ballroom changed. The music died away. The thump of the castellan’s staff reached his ears, followed a moment later by the announcement of Celene’s arcane advisor, the mysterious apostate who had managed to charm her way to the centre of the Orlesian court and who now, according to some, whispered spells in the empress’ ear.

“No doubt people will want us introduced,” he muttered.

Élodie nodded. “We should not keep Her Radiance waiting.”

Just inside the doors, however, he stopped. Even from across the room the Starling drew his gaze with the furtiveness of her movements, the deliberate indifference with which she moved against the flow of people, and his patience ebbed.

He touched Morrence’s elbow, leaning close. “Do you see her?”

“Aye. I want a chat with that one.”

“Get her out to the terrace garden and make sure she’s alone. Hopefully it’s cold enough outside that any interested bystanders will be discouraged.” He sighed. “I’ll get away as soon as I can.”

“I shouldn’t leave your side. The danger to you –”

“What if she’s a danger?” he pressed. “What if Leliana’s wrong? Something is going on here, and I won’t be kept beyond the chain – or don’t you think she was acting strangely before?”

At that, his right-hand let slip a curse. “I’d still be leaving you in a nest of snakes.”

“I’ll be alright.” The hilts of his concealed daggers sat snug against his wrists.

“Fine – but if you die, I get to kill you for it.”

Nobody commented on his lack of a bodyguard when he once more joined Celene and her waiting-women at the head of the room. Morrigan, her advisor, spoke Common like a Fereldan, but she had clearly spent enough time in Orlais to learn the dismissive nature of their manners. For a long moment, Alistair was distracted by a nagging familiarity he could not place, until the witch rose from her curtsey and turned a pair of piercing yellow eyes on him. The breath stopped in his lungs. His hands clenched into fists. Even the smirk was recognisable, catlike and secretive, and the instant it appeared he was shunted back to a campfire in a glade under a star-strewn sky, and mocking laughter in his ears.

“You’re Flemeth’s daughter,” he said.

The smile froze. “I did hear you encountered my mother – during the war, was it not? What did she tell you of me?”

“Only that you didn’t like living in the Korcari Wilds.”

“She resented my wanting to make something of myself outside of her influence.” She drew herself up for better display of her plum-red gown, the gold links around her throat. “And now here I am.”

“I can see the appeal,” he offered, to laughs from those gathered around them.

Celene clapped her hands. “Ah, this is delightful. You must have many things to talk about, given you share a homeland.” Her head dipped in what Alistair presumed was amusement. “Though we must ask that Your Majesty does not steal her away from us! No promises of Ferelden’s new leniency towards mages, if you please.”

He made sure to chuckle along, schooling himself not to look round to see whether Morrence had caught the Starling yet. All he could do was wait for a break in conversation and make excuses to be allowed away for some air.

When his chance finally came, a brief interlude during an influx of new people wanting introductions, he slipped through the crowd and met his right-hand at the door to the terrace. The fresh, cold scent of the night washed in, frost and damp earth, and beyond the lighted windows a dark figure stood at the balustrade that separated the garden from the sheer drop to the ground below.

“She’s waiting for you,” Morrence said.

“Any trouble?”

“Only until I threatened to draw attention to her,” came the reply. “And she wouldn’t look me in the eye. Good luck.”

He steadied himself with a breath as he stepped into the open air, a pause in which he studied the woman so invested in not being noticed. She faced away from him, hunched over as if still trying to make herself invisible, picked out by a rime of moonlight that glowed in her hair and reflected in the pearl beading on her skirts, rippled along the silk gloves that covered her arms to the elbow. Her head turned as he approached. Breath fogged silver in the night but the tension didn’t leave her shoulders and he felt it draw him along a knife’s edge as he realised too late how it might appear, a king ordering a woman to wait for him beyond earshot. A jab of self-disgust coiled in his stomach.

And yet, like Leliana said, there was something familiar about her.

He cleared his throat, set his hands behind his back. “You won’t come to any harm here, not from me.”

The Starling only flinched further away from him.

“Who are you?”

He waited, patient, until it became clear he wouldn’t simply give up and leave. The Starling’s fists bunched against the stone of the balustrade, and her shoulders heaved with a deep, almost panicky breath.

“Désolée, Majesté, le Marchandesse est –”

“In Orlesian, then,” he answered. “What’s your name?”

She paused. The line of her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I’m afraid… the only name I can give you is Laurienne, Majesté. Laurienne de Savrenne.”

“Laurienne.” He risked a step closer, and she angled even further away from him, determined to hide her face even behind the mask. “You know, it’s strange – most people here tonight have been falling over themselves trying to catch my attention, but not you. You’ve tried very hard to remain unnoticed, not just by me, but by my guards and entourage as well. Why?”

“I might point out that of all those who wanted the king’s attention, I am the only one to have it bestowed.” She licked her lips. “Perhaps that was my plan.”

The sharp mockery ignited his temper. What was this but yet another sly courtier throwing jests at his expense? All night he had been nice, he had smiled, danced, dressed himself up in pretty words so the nobility would chase him for something he didn’t even want to give, and now he couldn’t even get one straight answer when he asked for it.

“A lot of people think I’m a fool,” he bit out. “It might come in handy sometimes but I assure you I’m smarter than I look, and I don’t appreciate being messed about, especially not after such a long day.”

“I’m…” Was that a fraction of a move towards him? Her head dipped towards her hands, and her eyes pressed shut. “I’m not here under my own power. In truth, Majesté, my debtor bid me come, but did not say you would be here as well.” A distinct note of bitterness entered her voice. “No doubt the thought of us meeting amused her.”

“Do you know me?” he asked.

She fell utterly still. “Do you know me?”

“Are you an assassin?”

“No.”

“But you are hiding something.”

At that, she scoffed, and again that frustrating tingle of familiarity, though it was gone too quickly for him to examine. “We are in Orlais, are we not? Everyone is hiding something. I am no different to any other noblewoman, we are all the same. Wouldn’t you agree?”

His heart stuttered. His mind conjured a sweep of raven hair, the scent of jasmine, warm lips soft against his. “There are exceptions.”

“Is it the exception you were trying to find tonight?” The Starling’s tone rang cold. “All evening you have danced with one after another and tossed them aside afterwards like a wine-taster who finishes his sip and spits the rest away. How delightful the passage of your days must be to never want for such company.”

“How dare you.” He stepped closer. “What do you know about what my days are like – or what it’s like being passed around by all those magpies in there who only care about the shiny crown I could get for them? It’s all, ‘remember it’s your duty, Alistair’ and ‘just pick one and get it over with’. If I could even have one night where I could complain about it, or – or say no – that would be something, but everyone seems to think I should be flattered by all those people pawing at me and never giving me a moment to myself!”

He paused for breath. The tirade had winded him, as much for the emotion it let loose as for the wild gestures flung out with the words. The Starling had remained still, taking the onslaught like a tree against a howling wind, though now only fatigue was left in him she shrank as if he’d struck her a physical blow.

“Forgive me,” he muttered, horrified. “I wasn’t angry at you, it’s just…” What words could he say? “I wouldn’t expect you to understand – but don’t worry. You can go. Do as you wish, my guard won’t detain you any further.”

Still she didn’t move. Cursing, he pinched the bridge of his nose and swallowed back the lump in his throat as he turned for the door. He needed sleep, he needed –

“I understand better than you would think.”

Her voice. Common, not Orlesian. The quiet servility deepened into a clarion note – it stirred his heart from its withered slumber, called it like a dog to heel. Her voice. With pulse thundering, with hope and disbelief and horror wadded into a tight ball in his throat, he looked back.

The Starling no longer shrank into herself but stood tall in defiance of the cold, her shoulders thrown back, chin lifted, in the attitude of a general. He drank in the arch of her throat, the pale skin that gleamed like marble under Satina’s light, the shine of raven-black hair gathered in an Orlesian knot at the back of her head, all details he had ignored before because it was impossible. When he didn’t move, her head tilted, and he recognised the sorrow in the gesture, the self-deprecation in the curve of her mouth.

“The man I love is at this ball tonight,” she told him. “He’s the centre of attention, but I’ve had to watch and do nothing while everyone covets what I cannot touch.”

Her voice.

“Why not?” His tongue fumbled the words through the fog in his brain, the steps he took back towards her shaky and numb, desperate, his chest constricted trying to hold his breath in case it broke the spell somehow cast around him. “Why hide?”

“I owe a debt. Until it’s paid, I can’t – my life is not my own and I have to pay it back. Besides,” she added, with a new wobble in her voice, “what would I say? He – everyone thinks I’m dead.”

They stood so close now he could have reached out to touch her hand, but he hesitated, worried that that, at last, would make her disappear and prove him mad. She was shaking; her fingers had raked lines in the frost on the stone as she clenched them into fists.

“But you’re not dead. You’re –”

Their breath mingled heavy under the moonlight as he leaned in, his hand braving night-chilled skin where her glove had fallen to her wrist, and finally she turned into him, drawn, like him, and while he closed his eyes seeking in vain for the familiar scent of jasmine and sweetgrass, the weight under his fingertips and the stulted breath that left her lips made her solid, and all that was left was to beg her to say something, to let him hear her voice again.

“I was afraid you’d forgotten me,” came the whisper, so full of doubt.

“Never –” He caught the side of her face, pressed a kiss to her temple though the rim of her mask cut into his lips. “Never.”

“I – I thought you’d hate me.”

The absurdity of it made him giggle even as he shook his head in denial. He stroked her hair. Kissed her again. And then, because it was too much to have such certainty without proof he pulled back, searching for the ribbons that secured her mask in place, her pulse flying under his fingers as he worked at the knots. When the mask finally came free, he pushed it up over her forehead – and found himself looking down into a pair of eyes that were the grey of cracked ice on a winter sea.