#she is bitter and ruthless and drinks too much wine

[lana-del-rhaena]

it’s not a viable theory but it’s fun to imagine rhaelle causing the tragedy at summerhall in hopes of getting her blood on the throne

[axgmented]

1, 7, 20, 32, and 47 for the 90 questions meme ^^

@starsdeath

What’s your favorite strategy for avoiding tough situations? ╰┈➤ She doesn't have one. Rem actively goes towards dangerous, hazardous, and wild situations. She doesn't throw caution to the wind and just goes in willy-nilly, mind you, she does formulate a plan but most of the time it's very much a "wing it" sort of scenario and making the plan as she goes. She's very much a think-on-her-feet type of gal. Now, when it comes to PR? She lets Rude and Tseng handle all of that. She hates the cameras, the overlapping voices, the pushing and nosey questions that the press has a tendency to ask. So she'll typically hide away in the cubicle of the office somewhere until the crowd dispurses; her strategy for that is more of a "wait them out" type of deal.

What is the one thing people assume about you that you wish was true? ╰┈➤ That Rem is heartless, cold, and unfeeling. Rem feel things immensely. She allows herself to feel anger, rage, hatred, desire, bloodlust, and that feral feeling of letting go in the heat of battle. What she doesn't like to feel, is loved, cared for, soft, and like a person rather than a weapon. She absolutely is an empath but because of her training and her upbringing, Rem can turn it off. It's part of her job to feel nothing, to be ruthless, but gaia she feels so intensely that it's disturbing.

What would someone say is your worst habit? ╰┈➤ It's a toss-up between her foul mouth and smoking. Rem smokes like a freight train and it's disgusting, she knows. However, with her unique genetic make-up and the amount of mako that poisons her blood, drinking isn't really a vice anymore. It takes so much for her to get drunk and even then, her buzz doesn't last like a normal person's would. So she enjoys the sin of smoking. It isn't just limited to cigarettes; she does partake in the devil's lettuce and will absolutely settle down on her balcony with a little joint and a cup of coffee in the morning when her bones are aching but it isn't time for her injections. She enjoys clove cigarettes, cigars with the wood tip (often wine-tipped), and menthol every now and then. The swearing, however, is something that Tseng and Rufus both wish she would stop. Reno taught her most of it, taking to the slum speech like a fish does to water; Tseng also might have inadvertently taught her a few Wutain swears but she hardly ever uses them because of that look the Director slides to her. She does know when to turn it off, like when she has to play guard dog with Rufus at his ever-so-popular meetings. Rufus probably wishes she would speak in actual sentences too, instead of her half-thrown-together, half-finished jargon.

Is your need for revenge greater than your need for peace? ╰┈➤ It's a fifty-fifty feeling; her revenge is misplaced. Considering Hojo's demise, she only feels anger at her creation via the company and anything attached to the ShinRa name; this includes Rufus. She struggles with herself, daily, on wanting to protect the man because he isn't his father, slaughtering him like Mother wants and fulfilling her daughterly duties of bringing ruin to the cosmos-- to bring the reunion. I don't think Rem realises what peace is. She's never known it; her mind is never quiet, there are fleeting feelings of peace, like when she can finally see the stars out on the cliffs. However, the feeling is so foreign to her that she gets disgusted and quickly shoves it away because, as mentioned before, Rem only allows herself to feel the anger and hate she was created with. It's comfortable, it's something familiar. Eventually, I feel as if she will settle on a bitter truth-- she cannot exact her revenge on people who do no deserve it and seek peace with the help of people who have never known it by themselves, but in the company of their brothers in suits.

How much do you enjoy being in control? ╰┈➤ Loves it. If Rem isn't in control, she will find a way to get in control. She refuses to give control over anyone unless she trusts them, and it's not even about missions. She is absolutely the top in most of her sexual encounters. She loves making people feel good-- she likes reducing men and women alike to shaking, whimpering, crying messes. However! that's not to say that Rem doesn't like to relinquish her control; whoever she is with in times like that, she has to really, really trust in order to have them control her. When it comes to the field, Rem knows who to listen to. She knows if she is partnered with Rude, he calls the shots. If it's Reno? It's kind of a free-for-all. They feed off of each other's absolutely bat-shit crazy vibes. God forbid she gets paid with Tseng, because she is seen and never fucking heard. Ever. She will not speak. TLDR; only a select handful of people have control over Rem, but Rufus is the one who's hand is tightest on the leash.

[punkandsnacks]

Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter One; Lifeblood.

Author: @punk-in-docs​ and @adamsnackdriver​

Also on AO3

Trigger warnings; This is a slow burn story. NSFW comes later, but there is gory descriptive violence in this later on- I’ll tag the chapters with warnings-

Synopsis: Vampire!Kylo x OC love story. Inspired by BBC’s Dracula. Also inspired by Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.

He’s been stalking this earth long since civilisations can possibly fathom. Before records even began. He sneers at the fact that this pitiful young world has only just begun to see his reign of it. 

He’s dined with moguls, emperors, princes. He’s consorted with bloodthirsty ruthless Queens in their courts, and whispered into the ears of powerful King’s, whose names still echo through millennia. 

In his myriad of centuries gifted to his immortal self he’s been many many things. He’s been a lowly pauper. A crusading knight. An assassin. A sell sword. A soldier. A wanderer. A simpering suitor and a voracious unyielding lover. Aimlessly lost in time- besieging this earth. Ripping it apart and drinking what’s left.

He was made in the hinterland between snow and dirt and pine trees. Crusted with ash and blood and gouged from battle. Born anew. Sired from the hell-mouth of war. He was made in 789 AD.He’ll come undone, one bitter winter night, in England, in 1816.

   ~  ~  🥀 ~  ~  

 Hampshire, England. 1816.

Winters here were always of the bitterest kind.

Everything hardened by frost. All of nature slaughtered and gnarled and made ugly by it. Everything deadened and driven away until yellow spring sunshine butters it all up. The ground wintry solid and as unyielding as the bite of stinging chill in the air.

Every loud footstep from under her cracked boots crackled and crushed with ice-crusted mud. Her treads echo off about her in the oppressive silence of the air.

Iris Ashton walked along the lonely pale road. The path ahead scattered with linen-white snow, thick like cloth, settling down in ghostly sprinkles - like fluttering ash.

Snow comes from a sky as thick and as soft as a eiderdown. Graphite grey smeared all over the horizon signaling the worst yet to come. Sky is heavy and blotted with it. Flecks already kiss and cling at her hair and her blue wool coat collar.

She can feel them land and melt on her cold numbed lips. Feels her raspy silver breath run them away.

The trees in the dark wood surrounding her on either side of the ribboning track and the pallid ground; stand majestic and strong. Like a darkly Prussian-blue swathed army standing silent attention. Frost crawls determined up their sturdy trunks. The horizon peeping through the trees is white, like a puff of spilt flour. The craggy black tips of the regimented trees scrape at the thick churning sky.

One hand laden with her heavy wicker basket. Hanging solidly down by her thigh. Handle creaking so under her glove from it’s heavy contents. Her elbow is locked straight and aching fully from the strain of it.

Mother had sent her off on one of her errands; paying calls to give some wrapped linen food parcels to the church. Cold meats and half-loaves of day old bread to give to the poor and needy. And on the way back she’d stopped and called for tea with her doddery great Aunt Lavinia. A more belligerent old dragon never drew breath.

Iris was her favourite of all the Ashton girls. All three of them. Unfortunately the lot of being the eldest and families general paragon of hope, fell onto Iris. Next was her sister Flora who is fifteen, and then there was Posy, at sixteen.

A whole compliment - a bouquet - of Ashton ladies. As the gossip columns always so proudly and wittily declared.

Iris was the level-headed, sensible elder sister at three and twenty. The one who was seen and never heard. The one with unremarkable grey eyes and fair skin. Her teeth were supportable, and her conversation was, well, fine, really.

She didn’t have dazzling honey blonde hair or a sultry head of brunette curls. Her hair was brown. Not chestnut. Not sizzling auburn blaze. Just. Brown. Like mud. Like bark. Like flat Turkish coffee.

The sensible Ashton girl, with eyes as dull as dust, and hair the colour of twigs.

She was pale, with a oval face and a stout figure that was passably pleasing. She had a fine bosom that some men liked to gawp at, and mother insisted she had a touch of child bearing hips. Which would strongly come into her favour when she’s married. As she had once said;

“Your future husband will be much delighted with such a valuable commodity, Iris.” Her Mother remarked once when she was a young girl and she was tugging and yanking her long hair into a plait ready for bed.

Iris can remember how badly she wanted to do something out of spite purely to ruin that chance. But really she couldn’t alter the shape of her skeleton with much ease.

Maybe she wasn’t a diamond of the first water. She’ll never be one of those girls who glide elegantly through a ballroom like a bevy of silk swathed swans. Preening, poised and primly perfect.

To her own mind and credit she was just - plain. Tolerable.

Adequate.

She is sometimes remarked to be too acerbic with her tongue, or her remarks. She’s certainly got a backbone and another quality that stumped men of the ton - a mind of her own making. She doesn’t suffer fools and she likes to venture that she is a blue stocking with a decent and level understanding of this world.

She’s sufficient- she supposed. Simply that and nothing more. She’ll never have poems written about her, or have a man declare he fell wildly in passionate love with her with one glance.

It suits her well enough. The fact that she looked like a dusty dull unrefined ornament next to her polished preening sisters. She’d rather fade into the wallpaper than be a dazzling spectacle of ridiculousness, like that of her two siblings.

Her simpering, inane sisters. Who flirt with any man donning a scarlet coat in the Militia. Flora and Posy, who worry obsessively about ribbons, and seek to pay no mind to anything, of any real consequence.

Iris is never one for fits of jealousy, but she is sometimes envious of their light-hearted puerile, worries. About making up their bonnets or, the next ball, or the most unbecoming stain on their new pelisse.

Aunt Lavinia greatly despised the merest sight and intimation of the younger Ashton ladies too. Iris is usually requested to go to tea with her Great Aunt, alone.

“Silly chit of a girl. The pair of them.” Was her relative’s most favoured and overused phrase.

She’d cackle it as one of her clawed elderly hands - talons - gripped her teacup. And she wouldn’t be happy until she’d griped and moaned and complained about every beast and man put on this earth. For they’ve all been put there with the sole purpose of vexing her greatly -Naturally.

Tea today was no different to any other occasion she pays a visit.

Iris sits with the sniping old matron in her freezing-cold front parlour with a piffling fire barely going. Her Aunt is always bedecked in enough black muslin to cover all of Hampshire.

A black lace matron cap staunchly on her head. Black fichu covering at her shoulders. An inky shawl on her arms and on each of her skeletal fingers sit glimmering gleaming rings which clackclackclack and scrape when she moves and points that every disapproving finger. Big fat stones of amber and ruby and topaz weighting down her frail claws.

Iris always teeters politely on the most uncomfortably hard settee opposite her. Cradling the hot spode bone-china cup of tea that her Aunt shoves in her hands. Sugar staining sickly saccharine on her lips - she never let her guests have unsugared tea.

Quite why she is the favourite Ashton, Iris has no clue. She is always interrogated by the woman as she barks nosy question after nosy question at her.

“Yes, Aunt. No, Aunt. I don’t believe so, Aunt.” As the harridan gripes about beef or sugar or candle taxes, or the local Reverend, or the gaudy new fabric on display in dressmakers window.

A whole ream of grudges being spewed out that wrinkled puckered mouth. Face pale, craggy and screwed up with lines like a sheet of crumpled parchment paper.

Her dark eyes shine forth like raisins sunk deep into scones. Glittering black and always always always dissatisfied with the whole world, and determined to find fault with everyone in it.

Iris brings her the ointment her Aunt asked for. She was suffering a hacking cough that worsened in the winter. Lavinia insists its a damp affliction brought on by unclean air.

Iris bought the woman a bottle of liniment rub, spiced with rosemary oil, camphor and spirit of wine. Her Aunt harrumphed at her offering. Stabs her walking cane into carpet in disfavour. Shoves the bottle away and insists Willow bark tea is what will cure her ailment.

Next she’ll be insisting on leeches and blood letting to balance out the humours-

Iris doesn’t fight her stubbornness - it’s a battlefield over which she will never win or hoist a flag of victory.

She drinks down three more cups of the cloying tea, interrupts the interrogation and insists rather bravely that she must be on her way - for Lord and Lady Hearst are throwing a ball this evening. On their vast estate. And she needs to scurry home to ready for it. That earns her another harrumph in response. Lavinia detested balls.

“Breeding ground for senile men and stupid women. And all that inane leaping about they now call dancing...” She grimaces.

The whole county is in uproar for this ball - little else to recommend or appreciate in this bleak dull midwinter. Whispers flourishing around town seemed inclined to favour that a mysterious Lord from the continent is in attendance tonight...

A Lord. From Bavaria no less. Apparently he owned a vast castle high up in the snowy forest smothered mountains.

Quite why he’s bothered to travel the length of Europe to this savage spit of society in the Hampshire countryside, she cannot fathom. If she was lucky enough to live in a castle, she’d never be seen again.

She recounts that scrap of gossip about the prospective Lord to her Aunt. Who thunks her cane loudly on the floor and scoffs in derision;

“Foreigners are always a grave source of disappointment - and they are so riddled with lice and ill bred manners.” So wisely declares Aunt Lavinia.

She says that about anything to do with anything and anyone not born or formed on good british soil.

She had said the very same thing last week about the pews at Church-

She leaves the little bustling hamlet. Shuts her Great Aunt’s warped cottage door. The wood shuddered, catching on the doorstep. Her arm shot through with needles of pain. Aches slipping up her back, her neck and sparking her shoulders. She hooks the heavy basket onto the crook of her elbow and sighs as she plods homeward.

Away from the small tudor, mouldy mustard walls of Lavinia’s cottage. A pretty little house. Always cold. Formed of thick stone walls and mahogany creaking stairs. Austere bare furniture sparsely filled every room. Wedged into a street with crossed glass windows and a petticoat brown tiled roof.

It was a meagre six miles from here to home. And she appreciates the walk. Or atleast she might be more inclined to favour it, were her coat more substantial.

As it is the blue wool thing is possibly a might too small for her now. It tugs and pinches so across the shoulders. And the hem ends right up her calves. Pebble-grey Kidskin gloves on her fingers, knuckles knotted stiff and her fingertips are tingling with cold.

The hem of her plain cotton voile dress, is dark with damp from the snow. The bluebell cobalt of it leeched darker at her hem. She’s shivering because her stockings aren’t the warmest wool. Her legs are trembling cold and she only wore her lightest chemise. However she is glad she bothered with the scarf.

She hadn’t put on a bonnet today. She can’t stand the fuss of one. Ribbons flapping at her ears. It was uncommon - but she went without.

Simply tied her hair back into a low coiffured bun secured with a snip of wheaten muslin. By now and with lugging this basket across all of the Hampshire countryside, some straggles of hair have come loose. Flopping uselessly to her shoulders.

She ducks her chin into her scarf to escape the exposure of a battering bitter gale, and continues trudging on with wearied, aching determination. She always trudges on. She has too. Is always the one who must endeavour to continue, no matter how bleak she feels.

It gets tiring, carrying great tonne boulders of expectations on her shoulders. She likes to think she bears the task nobly.

As her Mother takes great pains and lengths to always endlessly remind her; she is the vessel in which all hopes for the survival of the Ashton family, are stored.

She will make a good marriage match; to a gentleman of high rank or fortune - preferably both. She will save the estate from destitution. Her sisters from ruin. And her father from debtors prison. She will be the one to keep her family in the moneyed style to which they are accustomed. They will not lose Westwell to the bailiffs.

They have risen far within the ranks of society. And they will not lose their clutch or their pride. Or their respected place among it. Her fathers estate is not a vast one; but it is more than his father before him had. A meagre merchant selling spices and furs out of Putney during the Restoration.

Now the Ashtons are country gentry. With a modest dwelling of an estate, abutting a working farm. Westwell. A manor house of not much splendour and merely thirteen rooms.

Built of gold cotswold stone with huge white windows looking out onto a self-effacing garden of some prettiness. There was a pond where swans flocked in summer. Enclosed wilderness all around. A plank of wood swing hanging off one big oak chestnut that stooped over the front of the house. To the back the garden is walled, full of sculpted beds and privets and the wide green lawn is rather uninspiring in this decimating winter

They had one gardener. Two maids. A cook and a Housekeeper. They live comfortably and hardly ever exceed their income.

Her mother hopes to change that this calendar year. She wants her eldest daughter promised to someone upstanding and rich.

Iris thinks her shrew of a mother would settle with wedding her to any man . So long as he looks pleasing in a cravat, and still has all his own teeth.

She treks on through the snow. Hoping. Dreaming. Dreaming for so many unattainable things.

Wishing her basket was lighter. Wishing her parents had sired a son. So that this evening she wouldn’t have to be bound into a pinching dress, and paraded around the Hearst’s ballroom as if she’s some prized slaughter pig at a county fair.

Wishing that she could instead stay home in her untrimmed, plain nightgown. No laced stays crushing her ribs. With a hot brick at her feet. A dog-eared Swift novel in her hands. Cracked open to the good passages. She’d read by tapered candlelight and be perfectly contented, poised to encounter spinsterhood.

Instead, a painful evening of savage society awaited her.

Poison filled smiles from nasty debutantes or their matronly mama’s. Sniping at her dress or her hair or her pale skin, or her lack of fortune. Crushed mangled toes from dancing with some portly red-faced Lord-whoever-from-wherever. One who stank of port, had bad breath, and tried to pinch her bottom with fat lecherous sausage fingers, when he thought no one was looking their way.

She has no aspirations for marriage or love. She’s not a fool. She doesn’t have her head swimming with fancies from novels. No rapturous desires of tall, sable-haired men, with chiseled marble bodies seducing her astray. No cloaked villain sweeping her away in the dead of night to send her to ruin, to then have her dashing savior ride in on horseback to rescue her.

If she’s one thing at all - it is sensible. She doesn’t like to reflect on the proposition of marrying some stranger simply to arrange the business of money and bearing him heirs. She’s not a broodmare-

She’s a woman. She has a thumping proud heart and a strong-working brain and she hopes there’s more measure to her life, than submitting her body and weak will over to be governed and quieted by a future, faceless husband.

She’s sure many girls of three and twenty have felt this way. She’s sure many generations upon generations of them will continue to do so, until women cease to be sold like chattel - or like cattle at market.

Sold solely to men for the priceless untarnished commodity that lay between their thighs. And based and viewed purely on that frail scrap of fleshed dignity, alone.

She wraps her coat tighter around herself. Distinctly feeling a sense of dread starting to slither sickly cool up her spine from the prospect of the evening ahead.

Mother will wrangle her into her finest restrictively crushing silk gown. Have the maid tug and pull her hair and wrench it into a pleasing style. Jabbing hair pins in her head. Mother will see to it that she splash plenty of Yardley’s water of jasmine blossom, orange and lavender on the pulses at her wrists, and at her neck.

Then, she’ll be practically shoved into the chest of every single eligible gentleman in the room tonight in the hope they deign her to be pleasing. She’ll be pushed and prodded and maneuvered and pummeled-

And she’s exhausted. She only hopes she finds the strength to endure such torture-

She kicks through the frosted ground. Pebbles scatter and skit in her wake. She nudges the sparkling white stones with the toe of her cracked brown boots. Her feet were slowly growing numb. Toes stinging with cold. She should have worn some thicker stockings. Then again, money was not exactly a moderate opulence at home. They had to husband their resources as a family very carefully- which meant Iris couldn’t have some new leather half-boots for romping about the wilds of the countryside.

But she could have as many new hair combs, fans, or gloves and embellished stockings as she wanted. Anything that might help snare a man into visions of matrimony. Not wasted on such a thing as a new wool coat to help keep her warm in winter; or boots that didn’t let the muddy puddles seep in.

For appearances sake, the Ashton’s wealth went solely into ballgowns, perfume and finery for their girls. Some household money of course went into sensibilities like candles, meat, flour and soap. Iris was taught that she should be hugely grateful for everything that was lavished upon her.

Flora so often griped at her that she was so lucky to have such amounts spent on her. She got new gowns of printed cottons and muslin and silks and whatever she wanted. Where her and Posy had to make do with alterations and hand-me-downs to their dresses and bonnets.

Flora was so blinded by jealousy and immaturity that she didn’t quite look - really look at her sister - and realize that Iris didn’t really want any of those things-

She ruminated on all tonight might bring her. She wondered what kind of state her silly sisters would both be in when she gets home. Already donning their paper curls, lacing each other into their stays and chemises already. Arguing over who wore the best pair of silk slippers they had between them.

Mother will be in one of her bitter moods. Trying to determinedly order all her girls ready for tonight.

Moods sour with each other already and they’d be seething and spitting nasty fury at Iris. She had new things especially for this ball tonight. New pair of satin gloves and a printed silk dress. They did not. They never did.

Iris would lend Flora her old reticule - the one Mother had bought for her from Bond street. And she’d give Posy her pearl hair comb to slide into her auburn coiffure. A little balm to both of them to gently encourage some sisterly affection. She didn’t want to be at war with them all night.

She’s halfway down the narrow pale road, kicking snowy stones, when an almighty sound kicks up over the horizon, barreling in her direction. She turns her head back and hears the distant rhythmic rumbling of hooves hitting track and the clack and creak of enormous coach wheels.

Hardly surprising when this is the biggest road leading back to Pembleton, her little village.

She sees through the fog of snow, a huge black shape dominates the road. Moving fast. She lifts her skirts and steps onto the crunching grass so that the raring coach might pass her safely by. At the tremendous speed it’s going she reckons she didn’t have long before it caught up to where she’s walking.

She hears it gaining, closer and closer. Wood and hooves and snorting horses eating up the distance of the road. She dares a glance at the impossibly loud and fast carriage.

It’s a beastly thing. All looming black wood. A black liveried driver in grey wool coat. Two footmen clad the same, on the back stand. Black sturdy luggage safely stowed on the roof. Two hulking beasts of shimmering onyx shire horses are stamping and galloping and heaving the great thing along with no difficulty. Silvery wisps of air pour from their nostrils and the dripping whites of their eyes look nearly devilish past their full cupped blinders. The tack of black leather lost on their gleaming coal coats.

The noise is deafening now. It’s almost passing her. Kicking snow and frosty gritted mud out from under the churn of the hungry wheels.

She’s curious as to who could possibly be residing in such an opulent coach. No one from these parts, she’s certain of it. The richest Lord from here was two villages over on a vast estate. Lord Hexham. Who was one and eighty and had a hunched back. And he was a doddery old recluse. He hardly went raring around town in such an imposing manner.

When it draws level with her she dares a vertiginous glance up at the small arch of the door. A crest is splashed there in gold and scarlet. Like a splash of blood on a gold sword scabbard. Or a healing wound.

It’s no shock that the crest there is unfamiliar to her. It’s entwined with wolves and scarlet banners, and a shield crossed with swords. Some monstrous carnivorous coat of arms perhaps? Maybe this person’s ancestor’s had won victory in some ancient bloody battle dating back to the Normandy landings.

She looks up from the door and to her very great shock, she glimpses a man’s face.

It was a dark carriage, drawn to privacy with scarlet velvet curtains covering at the windows. But the one this side closest to her is peeled back.

Her heart thumps loud in her neck and her chest claws with slight panic and embarrassment having caught this gentleman’s eyes.

Such savage, unyielding eyes.

Bitterly black. Slicing outwards from an alabaster pale face. She barely made out features of a full proud face. A blunt roman nose, full pouting lips, and raven sable hair. Length; rakish.

It makes her inhale a sharp breath. Quickly averting her gaze. Embarrassed. Lowering her eyes.

Gawping openly at the upper echelons was never a good idea. They probably held her in the same standing as that of the mud on the bottom of their very polished boots.

He was probably some uppity Duke or Earl who didn’t wish to be gazing at the common stock. She looks to her feet. Feels the wind whip at the tendrils of her hair. Unfolds them from her scarf and whips them back over her face. Baring her neck. Snow lands on her skin. Flecks of it melt ripping like bee stings onto her hot throat.

Pale, corded, thrumming throat. Bared to the wind and the snow and the cold-

He can hear her pulse and it’s like a sweet sirens call.

She feels the strangest sensation then; no one was looking at her. But it feels like they did. It feels as if eyes are pinning her down. Raking over her skin and assessing her.

When she looks back up, dazed, the rattling loud coach is past her now. Off into the distance, into the snow.

Foggy white and smeared and blurring into the horizon. Roaring away up the track road. Away from her sight. She blinks after it’s wake. Snow tangling into her lashes. She’s shivering now if she wasn’t before, and she can’t fathom why.

She switches the basket into her other arm. Let’s it take the painful strain of the still heavy thing. Items within clunk and thump around. She steps off the crusted grass and back onto the stony pave of the hard road.

She continues on; winding homeward. She thinks about her silk gown, and new pearl earrings. And then of darker things; like devilish horses, and eyes. Eyes darker than inky shadows and deeper rich, like charcoal.

As the coach thunders off into the snow. Rutting and cracking over every bump on the road, Kylo shifted back on the scarlet bench seat. He lifts the curtain on the back window with a suave flick of his fingers, and set his black gaze once more back down the track road.

Looks back upon the lone girl in the blue coat who was walking there.

The scent of her still cloyed up in his throat - Oh, and in all the best ways.

He scented her from a mile down the road. Lavender, clary sage and sharp heat of bursting peppermint on salty skin.

The musk of her made him pant and his chest ragged. His arousal and bloodlust stirred in his chest. The drooling gnashing hell hounds of his appetite waking up and baying to be fed.

He watches her hair sway over her neck. A big gust of frosty wind blew her flavour right into his path.

His eyes rolled back in his head as he savoured her.

It made his mouth water. He’d all but outright moaned. It’s been a few moons since he last fed. His nails dig into the upholstered scarlet bench. Muscles strained. Veins corded tight in his body. Pulled taut.

His butler, Jomar. Speaks up from where he is sat opposite.

Blue silk Dastar covering his silver hair. His goatee beard was arrowhead shaped and always neatly trimmed. It stood out all the more from his bronze skin. His Punjabi cadence Kylo always thought was like cinnamon dashed in milk. He had a comforting warm voice.

“I wonder, shall you like the society hereabouts, your lordship?” He seeks curiously. Melting walnut eyes finding Kylos over his gold half moon spectacles, and looking past the small red leather backed Voltaire, open in his hands.

Lord Ren smirks. His eyes glimmer. Cool and hungry. Silver black like daggers.

“Absolutely.” He wets his lips. “The local cuisine looks delicious.”

     ~  ~  🥀 ~  ~  

[demon-winchester]

Tremors Behind The Veil Chapter 6

-Chapter 6- I entered the subway station... I did my research and apparently the safehouse was quite a bit closer using the subway than just walking. I finally reached the place but the door was nowhere to be found...A blank wall with some latin inscribed to it "Invented ad guy quis nulla" and I ran it through a translate app, it meant "to the guy who invented zero". What could she mean by that...I guess I can't ask her but maybe Lydia can provide me some insight. 

I started dialing up the numbers. "Well hello, that was fast" she answered her phone. "Yeah... I ran into a problem and maybe your unlimited brilliance can help me" I replied. "Oh, you're making me blush....Don't be sarcastic just tell me what you need help with" she said and i could imagine her smiling from the tone of her voice. "Alright so, does the sentence "To the guy who invented zero" mean anything to you?" I continued. "Ummmmm I can't say it does" she answered confused. "Nothing at all?" i kept asking. "Well no genius it's literally a random sentence for me" she chuckled. "Alrighty then, well, thanks for nothing" and as i said that a door started appearing and I started laughing. "What happened?" Lydia asked. "This bitch used a pun to keep her entrance shut....To the guy who invented zero, thanks for nothing." i answered basically on the floor laughing about the situation and i was CERTAIN that Lydia was rolling her eyes. "Okay, I will have to let you go now, I have some research I need to do...maybe we'll talk later" I continued. "Alright, ciao" she said and we closed the call. Now then...time to find Touch, Lien HQ and Red Tiger. After a couple of hours of research I came to a conclusion...Finding a shapeshifter would be really time draining, demons sound like a tough foe at this time so vampires it is. I'll sleep for a couple of hours and then time to head to Touch! I set up an alarm for three hours, I put on some music *Wasteland by Neoni starts playing*, I laid down on the couch and i started drifting away. I suddenly woke up in a strange city. 

There was nobody around me, it felt desolated, the buildings were almost destroyed and the place was covered with sand...it reminded me of the desert i thought. I looked around and I saw a woman standing behind me. It was Circe, the dream version of her. I approached. "I guess your help is needed again"she smiled. "We need to start meeting under better circumstances" i smirked. "That is quite true Aiden" she answered, "I believe you chose Touch....That was quite the decision, Sylvia will tell you what you need to know and it's time for you to leave i believe" she concluded and the alarm started ringing. I got up, I took a bath and i started getting ready. Black boots,black jeans,dark red shirt,grey jacket,earrings, rings, chain and i was ready to go. Suddenly the phone started ringing and it was Lydia. "Hey, watch up" i said answering the phone. "Sup dude, what is your superhero ass doing" she said snarkily. "Oh shut up" I replied "Just getting ready to go to a club". "Ohhh spicy...I didnt know the job description had partying" she said. "Yeah of course.... You know i hate these places, you dont have to be an ass about it" I said laughing it off. "So tell me, how come you go then?" she asked. "I mean, i am still searching for Circe..plus i need my sword back if I am to have a chance." i answered. "Okay wait for me, im coming with you" she said. "Oh stay where you are love, you aint coming with me, shit could get really bad really fast" i said to her with a watchfull tone. "And that's exactly why i'm coming, you need support from a friend when shit gets down" she pridfully replied. "No offence but if something bad happens the only friend i need is a fucking nuke so sorry not sorry, you're staying where you are" i said. "You know how much i hate you sometimes don't you?" she complained. "Well let me prove you otherwise, let's say i owe you a coffee..how does that sound?" I teased her. "Just that?...No deal, you still suck" she chuckled. "A coffee aaaand i'll have you on comms while i go to the club...i could really use a friend on a sucky place" i said wih a small smile. "It's Saturday night and you think i'll stand by on comms and keep you company?.... You are absolutely right" she replied and i could almost see her smile. "Fantastic just an fyi though, since it's kind of undercover i won't be able to answer you every time...just so you wont get worried"i said. "Alright" she replied. It was time to go. "Let's find Sylvia" i thought to myself while passing by the bouncer and he didn't seem amused. I was walking down the corridor, it was like a small tunnel leading to the entrance. The walls had some kind of fur, people leaning on them, some laughing, some puking, some staring. Purple and pink lamps lit the whole place and they made it feel like a fever dream. "These are going to be a bitch to walk through while drunk" I uttered silently. Following the music i arrived to the main room opening the doors.The room was gigantic. Glass panels were on the roof, cages with dancers inside them and a door on the other side of the room,the boss's room I thought. People were dancing, drinking and having fun... these places were never my kind of thing. I sat on the bar and I ordered a red wine. " A wine on a club....either a meeting or you're just boring" said the barwoman handing me my glass. "Maybe both, maybe neither" i said taking a sip. "So tell me what else do you do except pouring drinks and judging people darling." I continued. "ohhh the barwoman....spicy" Lydia said through the comms. "A man being just a bit of an asshole and not a full fledged one, a rare kind these days but nevertheless don't try hitting on the barwoman, you never know what she'll pour on your drink kid" said the barwoman with a wink. "I dont mix bussiness with pleasure unfortunately" i said. "Are you sure unfortunately is the right word?" the barwoman said interrupting me. "Ouchhh ruthless but i'll let it pass. Tell me though, do you know a woman called Sylvia? I heard she's running this place" i continued. "And who wants to talk to her?" said the barwoman. "Circe" I replied. "You don't really seem like a Circe but you do you, i'll go get her for you" the barwoman said smiling and she started leaving. " So, is hitting on the barwoman part of the undercover mission?" Lydia said. "Well no but if you form a small connection with a person, even someone who doesnt know your name, they are more likely to help you." i answered taking a sip of the wine. "I am so fucking sure you drank a bit of wine after saying that just too feel smart" Lydia said annoyed and I almost chocked from laughing. "Okay shhhhh i think she's coming" i said wiping wine of my face. "Oh you sir are not Circe" said the woman.  

"Hello. sorry for using this name but i need to talk to you...somewhere more privately" i said in an apologetic tone. "Haha, no" she groaned. "Im sorry, what?" i asked. "What you just heard. You think you can barge in here and use her name?!" she said. With that she extended her arm, she hit me on my chest and I was now put up against the wall with the drinks. You could hear the shattering of the bottles and the whole place smelled of expensive vodka. I tried to move her hand but she was still keeping me there. She started hitting me again and again. "Why" was all I could mutter through the hits. "Why?!?!?!" she asked angry. "You barge in my club uninvited and you refer to yourself as Circe. You degenerate, you should've known what using this name in here would've caused you! ". She dropped me down and I could hear Lydia talking worried through the comms. "And who is your little friend talking to you." Sylvia continued. She took the Bluetooth out of my ear and she continued hitting me. "You leave her out of this" I screamed and she started laughing while kicking me in the face. "You dare talk to me like that inside my own domain you filth! I am the queen of the vampires and when I talk you bow! Now it's time to find your friend...." she said. I couldn't let this happen. I summoned my armor, I was still wounded wearing it but I had no choice. "Ugh, i never liked reapers... I knew that horrid musk was coming from you, I could smell you before you entered." she groaned. "Ohhh and I just had a bath before coming here... I'm gonna write a strongly worded email to the shampoo company" I said spilling while blood and looking at her with a smile. "We have a witty one today...They tend to taste a bit bitter. So you think you're funny?" she said. "What can I say, a jester fit for a queen" I continued with a stupid grin. And with that she kicked me on the stomach, at this point I could taste my own blood. "You'll show respect when I talk to you!" she yelled and she continued hitting me. "I'll break you tonight and I'll wipe that stupid smile off your face even if I have to sew your mouth shut" she continued with an evil grin. She grabbed me by the neck and she held me up."TURN OFF THE MUSIC" she yelled, silence befell the room and everyone was looking at her "THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS TO ANYONE WHO DISRESPECTS ME!" she screamed and you could see all the people saying "yes miss" with fangs in their mouths. I walked right into a nest. Circe had told me that but I thought normal humans would be among them.How many people are actually Accursed..... Suddenly one of the bouncers opened the doors, wounded and horror itself swam throughout his eyes. A black whip emerged from behind him, wrapping him and dragging him right before our eyes... His screams suddenly stopped.

[catulla-claudia]

Callixta Claudia Catulla

“Callixtus Claudius Valerius, look me in the eye and tell me you’re not going to be as shit of a brother as you are a politician.”

General information

Known as

Callixta Claudia Catulla: Legal name

Catulla: Commonly known as

Cat: Nickname

Callis Maxim: Pseudonym

Lady Catulla: Title

Occupation

Painter

Noblewoman

Favorites

Favorite meal: Saltimbocca

Favorite drink: White wine

Favorite flower: Carnation

Personality traits

Birthday: November 16

Age: 29

Zodiac sign: Scorpio

MBTI: ISFP

Pronouns: She/her

Main(s): Lucio

Patron Arcana: Knight of Swords

Relatives

Callixtus Claudius Valerius: The Consul, her elder brother, known most commonly as Valerius. She dislikes his general connivery, whilst he believes her too soft and still resents her for their mother’s death, but they still share a sense of comradery over their father’s political designs for both of them.

Cato Claudius Maximus: Father, the patriarch of the Claudius family and previous Consul of Vesuvia before his death during the Red Plague, usually simply known as Consul Maximus. Her cognomen was derived from his praenomen of Cato.

Poppaea Valeria Maximii: Mother of Catulla and Valerius, her marriage with her husband was rare amongst nobles as it was for love, and she died giving birth to Catulla, one of the main sources of contention between Cat and her brother and father.

Gens Claudia: Patrician family to which Catulla belonged, descended from her father. Several generations before her birth, her ancestors had changed the laws of Vesuvia that made the title of Consul a hereditary title passed down through the Claudii clan rather than an elected role after generations previous of bribery and political plotting that kept the Claudii clan in power as Consuls.

Gens Valeria: Patrician family to which Catulla’s mother belonged and for whom her elder brother was named after.

Physical description

Gender: Female

Height: 5′2′’

Eye color: Hazel

Hair color: Black with blue-silver ombre

Appearance

Cat is a petite woman who looks to be in her early to mid twenties, with an elegant yet unrestrained air, described as being "all the wild beauty of a garden". Her hair is black, with the ends dyed into a blue-silver ombre, and she has hazel eyes, a shade or two darker than her brother’s. She’s said to resemble her mother greatly, being fine-boned, with large eyes and a straight nose. She has a beauty mark on her left cheek. She loves high-collared lace and silk shirts, as well as floral patterns and puffed and gathered sleeves.

Personality

Unlike her brother, Cat doesn't like the idea of manipulating others or being a chess piece. As a result, she'd also expressed a desire for a simple life, content to live off her family inheritance as a philanthropist and patron of the fine arts as well as expand her own crafts as an artist. While her family exults in power and influence, her motivations lean more towards living life on her own terms. Some part of her resents her family for their insistence in playing at the game of politics, though it’s often overpowered by her internalization of her father’s neglect of her during her childhood. She’s only ever really soft and open when it comes to art-- at the rest of times, her personality is seen as sarcastic or snippy, with a hatred for flattery and strictly no-nonsense, often fidgeting or becoming anxious when there’s nothing for her to do. However, Catulla can be just as manipulative and ruthless, able to read people like they’re open books even without the help of magic or a tarot deck, as she was born and raised as a Claudii after all-- she simply dislikes politics. That doesn't mean she's bad at it.

History

Family background

Catulla was born as Callixta Claudia Catulla, of the Claudius family. Catulla was named after her father, whose name was Cato Claudius Maximus, known vernacularly as Consul Maximus. She had one elder brother, Callixtus Claudius Valerius, known vernacularly as Valerius, three years her senior.

The Claudii were one of the oldest and most noble of Vesuvia’s families, with members frequently holding the highest offices of the state, and had over the course of several generations, seized control of the office of Consul to the point it became a hereditary title passed down through the family rather than an elected one as it was initially intended.

Consul Maximus and his wife, Poppaea Valeria, were arranged to be married, but unlike most nobles, they were deeply in love, and Poppaea was often said to be the power behind Consul Maximus’s hand, and was also quite well-respected by the people of Vesuvia.

Childhood

Catulla was named for her father, whilst her elder brother was named for her mother’s family. Her mother, Poppaea Valeria, died giving birth to her-- as a result, her father and brother had resented her for this, and her father treated her coldly during her childhood, heaping all his aspirations onto her elder brother, with Catulla being forgotten in the shadows.

As a result, Catulla was raised mostly by tutors and servants, keeping mostly to herself during her childhood, the shamed daughter of the Consul hidden away in the Claudius estate. It was during this time she gained an appreciation for the arts-- cooped up in such a large manor with a lush garden and vineyard, she found herself often staying out to sketch the sceneries and making different studies of the servants at work as well.

Adolescence

By the time she was around thirteen or fourteen, she was deemed talented and useful enough by her father to send her away abroad to study the arts-- once again, out of sight and out of mind. She spent the next few years travelling to places like Firent, Zadith, and Prakra, studying the painting, architecture, and sculpture of each of the different cultures, returning back to Vesuvia when they were around nineteen with a wealth of knowledge.

Adulthood

Catulla was introduced at court by her father at the wedding of Count Lucio to Nadia Satrinava, alongside her elder brother-- she was around twenty at that time. Later, she received note from town gossip that the Count was looking to commission an artist for his official portraits.

Determined to win the commission, Catulla had worked in secrecy and submitted her sample work to the palace under the pseudonym of Callis Maxim, unwilling to throw around her family reputation. It was to her pleasure and surprise that she was notified, a month later, of her winning the commission.

Catulla had informed her father of her new occupation and then without waiting for his protest or permission, promptly moved into guest apartments in the Vesuvian Palace, where she would stay for the next year as she worked on a painting of the Count as seen in the Arcana game, standing proudly over the skull of a dead beast, with mountains in the background

Court Painter

He was apparently so pleased with her work that she’d been promoted to the Court Painter, whereupon she had been tasked with painting a myriad of things, mostly for his vanity projects-- paintings of him, paintings of his menagerie of pets.

Over time, Catulla had befriended him, or, as much as anyone could befriend the count, being referred to affectionately as “Cat” by him, and something of a one-sided infatuation had sprung up, with Cat having held a soft spot for him despite his selfish tendencies due to his love and care for his pets, though she made sure he had remained unaware of this, and he was in the meanwhile having an affair with her brother.

When the Red Plague swept the city, she’d been horrified at his inaction, distancing herself from him and calculatedly cutting off any form of their previous friendliness towards each other-- her last commission was the painting of the feast in the dining hall, and the grim and ominous composition was a manifestation of her disappointment and bitter anger towards him. She’d given it to him as a parting gift, alongside a resignation letter.

The Red Plague

Catulla intended to leave court for fear of Lucio’s wrath after reading her resignation letter; however, she had been called back by the Countess, who’d asked her to help her and Doctor Devorak improve the quality of life in Vesuvia through public works projects, something she’d studied as an architectural student in Prakra at one point.

When the Count contracted the plague as well, she’d taken over this public works project as Julian was tasked to find a cure; during her meetings with the courtiers, she’d learned from her brother, acting Interim Consul, that their father had also contracted the plague.

Masquerade

At one point, Catulla had suffered a breakdown from the stress and vanished mysteriously, to the chagrin of her brother, it was this that prevented her from being present at the Masquerade where Lucio was murdered.

It was later revealed that just before the masquerade, she’d decided to run away from Vesuvia, no longer able to withstand the pressures of running the public works project, or the fear for her father and the Count despite her better judgement. She had moved around over the next three years from here to there, working as a painter for tourists and passerby, her pride preventing her from returning to Vesuvia and asking her brother for help.

Aftermath

She was later found to be living in Nevivon by Lucio, newly freed from his Devils’ bargain and banished by Nadia from Vesuvia no less, selling portrait miniatures or scenic paintings to tourists and passerby on the street. She couldn’t recall him, not even able to put a name to his face-- this had prompted him to bring her back to the palace despite Nadia’s threats of punishment to see her own artworks hanging up over the halls, hoping to prompt her memory to return.

It was there she’d run into her brother, shocked to see her alive and well for all those years, and shocked even more to see Lucio of all people with her, who he’d called the guards on, running him out of the palace once again.

Despite her suspicions, he made an effort to reconcile and show that he wasn’t the asshole she’d believed him to be in their earlier years. Over time, as she gradually returned to palace life, the gaps in her memories gradually filled in, and she was welcomed back in helping Nadia and Julian with their aqueduct projects.

However, there was always a missing piece, it felt like, in their mind, and they hadn’t realized what it was till Nadia mentioned offhandedly she didn’t really wish to have Lucio’s portraits hanging around anymore, but she also felt guilty if she were to throw away Catulla’s works, prompting the artist to ask after Lucio...

Trivia

Callixta, Catulla’s unused personal name, means chalice, and is shared with her brother. Her cognomen that’s most commonly used, Catulla, means wise or good judgement. As with Roman naming conventions, her family name is in the feminine form.

Calixta can speak at least six different languages as part of her formal education.

She suffers from selective memory loss and can’t remember any of the time she spent at Court, though she recalls her education, early years, and family quite well.

Her story plays out in a continuation of Nadia’s route rather than in Lucio’s own route.

She’s not a magician, nor are any of her known family members, but doesn’t have quite as much a dislike for magic as Valerius does, and her instinct and intuition is unusually sharp for someone without magic.

She has a smooth voice that “sounds like a Disney princess”.

[hollandroos]

Heaven and Hell | Pt.2

King Of Hell!Tom X Fallen Angel!Reader - READ PART 1 HERE

Summary: Who would’ve assumed that heavens little angel was the king of hells soulmate?

Words: 4.5k 

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety. This series plays around with religion a rather large amount. 

Collaboration with another author but she deleted, so I took to editing it and changing a few concepts so bare with me!  | THIS CHAPTER WAS EDITED / PARTS WERE REWRITTEN AND REPOSTED ON 10/05/2019

"For the first time ever, he'll know kindness and gratitude. Through his gift, the king will learn what it is to feel something other then hatred.”

You wake up and the first thing you notice is that your head is pounding– it’s excruciating, like someone’s knocking a hammer against your brain or sticking a pin between each of your eyes. You groan, rubbing the space that was aching the most. It feels like what the mortals would call a hangover… only worse. With that knowledge in mind and the fact that you weren’t in your own bed, your hands fly down to your chest where your dress still sits and you let out a sigh of relief.

Sitting up, you notice that the room isn’t white or a gentle blue and Instead it’s dark, with black wallpaper lining the walls and wooden floorboards. Red flames line the walls, illuminating the room and slowly you sit up until bare feet, once scratched up and blistered adjust to the flooring and the first thing you notice other then the interior is that it’s hot, therefore your little trip wasn’t a dream and you were still in hell. You were awaiting your bitter ending.

You swallow. Then think. Take a moment to taste the fear and anxiety on your tongue and shudder.

A glass of water sits beside the bed and though your throat was screaming at you to drink some – even just a sip, you push that to the back of your mind and ignore the glass. You didn’t want to find out what they put in the ‘water’ they gave to trespassing angels just yet. It could easily be a poison that’d put you through an eternity of excruciating pain or send you waves of terrible dreams that would wake you up screaming to the point where your throat would be red and raw and voice scratchy.

Being the rather nosey angel you are, you look around the room and only happen to glance into the rubbish bin where you see wrappers belonging to bandages, bloody tissues and a few other things. You screw your face up, looking away as quickly as you glanced down. Still, you couldn’t understand why they were making a big fuss out of cleaning you up if they were going to put you through extreme trials that would eventually lead to the end of your existence.

It was a miracle you had even surprised the fall. A goddamn wonder you’d made it even five minutes surrounded by bloodthirsty demons who had swung their knives around you like you were their next meal.

Shaking your head, you observe your surroundings further. The room was much too big for your liking and especially one that simply contained a large, king sized bed, bedside table, cabinet and mirror. But the colours sent shivers down your spine. While everything was white and the odd time a pale blue in Heaven, you noticed that Hell prefered deep, crimson red, black and grey. 

Everything was dark, accented with colours that’d be forbidden in heaven and flames lit up the halls. Even this room that you had figured was where medical treatment was carried out for the Kings inner circle had a bright flame on each wall. You'd never seen a fire in your life before today, it was prohibited in Heaven, the council demanding that it was too dark. 

However, you lift your hand, fingers stretching upwards as you ran one through the fire. Despite the awful rumours you heard about the stuff. You don't feel anything, not even a slight burn as they sat in the middle of the flame. The sight was hypnotic, really and you stare lustfully toward the flame that kisses your fingertips.

Next, you find yourself staring into a connecting bathroom where a rather large bath sits, already full and you slip your bottom lip in between your teeth. You were dirty with a little bit of dried blood still seeping between bandages and there was still ash stuck between your feathers. A dirty angel wasn’t a good angel. Every angel hated feeling dirty, there was nothing worse and in Heaven, nothing more disrespectful.

You shudder, feeling the ashes rubbing between feathers and as you move, you feel the blood, stiff and wine red against your cheeks.

A bath sounded lovely. But you shouldn’t – but you absolutely could.

Looking back towards the bed you’d woken up in, you debate going back where you’d wait for someone to collect you. But your entire body hurt and beneath plenty of bandages, you knew there was bound to still be wounds that were yet to heal. Your muscles were tense and the bath looked so inviting with a thin layer of bubbles on top. The smell of lavender wafts around the room, much different to the grotesque burning you’d endured earlier. So hesitantly, you step in, nearly jumping as bare toes touch the marble flooring. 

Angels are always cautious, sometimes too cautious and that peaks as you triple check that the connecting door was locked before you peel the thin dress over your head, only wincing when you extend your arms and the fabric brushes against your feathers. It made you feel gross because by now the once white dress was many different shades of grey and red.

Water moves around your figure as you sit in the deep bathtub, ending where your neck began. You had never had a warm bath, always cold. The hot water had run out in heaven by the time you were allowed to bathe causing you to wash yourself in freezing cold water, shivering as the luffa would come in contact with your skin. 

But now you were bathing in warmth. It felt like a hug, but... the best hug you could possibly imagine – that was, once you overcame the initial pain that came with dipping semi-fresh wounds into hot water, bubble bath disinfecting what the demon had missed.

Soapy suds move around your legs as they drew into your chest. You stare at the wall, dumbfounded at what was happening. Surely this was a trick, a trick to get angel's hopes up before they were almost destroyed.

Like… some kind of last meal. Only you were getting pampered.

By now, you had expected to be screaming, each feather on your wings being torn from your back. That's what you were told would happen to angels when they reached hell. You pictured the king as ugly, as a cruel and wicked monster but he definitely was not– or at least from what you’d seen so far. You’d simply been mesmerized by him from the very curl of his lips to the curls upon his head.

He had spoken to you so gently, almost afraid that if he spoke too loud you’d crumble and you knew that after everything you’d endured that you wouldn’t but he had been hesitant. Even when he ghosted fingertips through the ends of knotted hair and instructed that you get taken straight to the med bay. But you were long passed out by then. Too long gone to hear even the slightest bit of concern that laced his voice.

Even Harrison had gaped at the small inkling of concern evident in his best mate.

Your wrists move up your legs and you catch a black mark on your wrist. Inspecting the mark closer, your eyes widening and you want to scream – maybe you should’ve screamed. It was a crown, plain and simple and with a gasp you shove your hand back into the water, scrubbing the skin roughly underneath the water to the point where you swore it was going to turn sickly red. And it did, you scrubbed your wrist until it was raw. 

Emerging it from the from warm water, the little crown still clear as day much to your dismay. You suck in your breath, more fears then you worried you’d be able to handle seeping into your chest. Angels weren’t meant to endure stress and you’d taken in more at times then what some angels did in a lifetime. So you could handle this, right? 

Of course it was. Everyone in the underworld has tattoos, however, they called them marks. Marks that signified sin. You figured that the tattoo meant you were his, you were now in his kingdom forever. That this tattoo appeared on every angel who fell down to the depths. Only you couldn't be more wrong.

Sighing and slipping further back into the water, you allow your hair to float around you in perfect formation. Relax, they haven't killed you yet. You try. Only that doesn’t halt the panic that races through your veins at lightning speed. 

It was hard to relax though, you were trapped in a foreign place with people you didn't know... who didn't know you either. All you knew was that they were powerful, ruthless and wouldn't hesitate when it came to snapping your neck or taking your wings and you’d already hurt one of them.

- “I’ve never seen you act so soft before.”

Harrison Osterfield was a long time friend of Toms. They’d stuck by each other's sides since they were younger, rarely ever separating and it was what made the two of them so strong. By themselves… sure, you’d be stupid to try and fight even one of them and you’d die before even laying a hand on the demons but together they were beyond lethal. They had done things that would make the angels weep at the thoughts. 

“I’m not going soft,” Tom shakes his head, staring down at the old book he’d managed to dig up out of his father's old belongings. His mind kept wavering to the little angel sleeping in one of his spare rooms down the hall. “I just… I don’t know what happened. It was only a split second.” 

Harrison chews on a grape, legs kicked up on the table and if it were anyone else Tom would’ve had them banished. The dining room in the kingdom was wide and the two boys sat at a rather large table with a beautiful rug beneath it. A flame was lit, lighting up the table, colour licking Toms already highlighted cheeks only emphasising his cheekbones.

“So explain it to me again, I’m having a hard time… processing it all.” Harrison mutters with furrowed brows. His words are slightly muffled as he bites into another grape, chewing on the delight as he waits for Tom to answer.

“You and me both” Tom groans, finding nothing to do with what he was looking for. The book only seemed to speak nonsense to the demon. “Me and her, I think we’re part of a prophecy. It’s one my dad used to tell me a lot but I thought it was just a story.” Tom stops, wetting his lips before he continues. “He used to tell me a story about a gift, something to give me – or the king strength and she did that, I felt it straight away and I felt her. I felt her pain and her fear.”

“I just don’t understand, The prophecy can’t be an angel, it's supposed to give you power." Harrison looks at him, sitting in utter disbelief. "If it’s meant to be a gift then wouldn’t it be an item?"

“I was fading away before she came, muttering nonsense and I couldn’t even roll over. It’s barely been six hours and all ounce of life has returned to me. It has to be her, there’s no other explanation.” Tom slams the book shut, finding nothing about the story he was so used to hearing as a child. He begins to wonder if Harrison was right and his dad had made the stories up. “Plus, I can’t even imagine hurting her– ever, and I’m a demon, hurting people is what I do. I think I’d rather snap my own neck then lay a hand on the angel.”

Harrison was gobsmacked as he listened, almost wondering if his best friend had gone utterly mad. 

“Are you sure your illness just hasn’t gone to your head?” He stifles his chuckles at Toms hard glare and straightens up. "Doesn't mean you're stronger, you're just the way you should be. Maybe you just got better, Tom, that happens you know?"

Tom let out a breath as one of his servants put down a tray of fruit on the table after Harrison had so selfishly eaten all Toms lunch. Not that he minded, there were tons more where it came fron, but with a wicked smirk, the king looks at the server and immediately, the small demon was pressed against the wall, gasping for breath. Harrison's eyes widen. 

"Fuck." he breathes as Tom feels that familiar rush of adrenaline rush through him. 

Applying more pressure before he let go of the demon with his mind. He falls to the floor, scrambling back onto his feet before running out of the room, not even turning to look back at his king as he did so. Tom feels power bubbling in the pit of his stomach, something he had long let go of since coming down with his illness.

"I told you, she's part of that prophecy," Tom smirks grabbing a grape from the pile of fruit. He bites into it, the sweet taste exploding between sharp teeth. Sweet, just like the angel that had fallen into a dull corner of hell. 

Sweet, just like the small glimmer of hope he’d seen adorn her eyes before she’d passed out, stumbling against him.

Sweet, just like your voice. Though you were hurt and fearful (and he could feel every ounce) you spoke as smooth as honey. Sugary, sweet, teeth rotting honey.

"Great then. She's also an angel." Harrison looks at his king. "So gain whatever power you’re talking about then get rid of her." He mutters. Harrison speaks carelessly shrugging in his button up, raven shirt. Tom narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t allow his anger to consume him. Not when it came to his best friend. 

“One more word about her and It’s your neck I’ll be snapping in two,” Tom replies harshly, biting into yet another seedless fruit taken straight from the mortal world. "She isn't meant to be used, Harrison." Tom looks at him. "If she leaves, my power leaves. I go back to being sick and bedridden and that is the last thing I want right now." Harrison let out a breath.

"Then lock her up—" He starts.

"She will not be treated as a prisoner. She..." Tom wets his lips, tasting the sweet remains of his snack. "I'm connected to her."

"Connected?" Harrison raised his eyebrows.

"Whenever she was in pain I felt it." Tom glared at him. "The bruises that formed on my skin were placed on hers first." He explained. A wave of anger ran through him when he thought of her with a single bruise on her skin but now she was littered in many from her fall. 

Harrison's eyes widen. “If you’re right and this is all some kind of... wild thing I let myself believe then you can say I told you so, but let me see if I’m right before you start with your shit.”

"You’re gonna fall in love with her, and what do you think will happen then? Do you think they’ll still want you on the throne? You’re putting yourself in danger – she’ll become a weakness." He whispers as if love was suddenly forbidden in hell – because it surely wasn’t. 

His father had adored his mother greatly, falling in love with her easily. However, it still wasn’t the best thing for the king of hell.

Tom nods his head, eyes hardened as he steps out of his chair. “If I do then so be it. My people can deal with it and if they can’t? We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, I need to go and see the angel.”

- When Tom knocks three times and you don’t answer, he pushes the door open. He would’ve let himself grow worried for your lack of response if not for the fact that he could feel your presence. You were an odd mixture of calm and panicked and he didn’t allow himself to measure which feeling outweighed the other. He did, however, let the feelings simmer long enough to feel something else. Something he couldn’t yet put his finger on.

Tom feels the flames licking his cheeks as he steps into the room you’d been placed in. He placed you there – on the single bed, that is, and had watched as the demons set to work, bandaging and holding ice to your wounds. He’d watched with his teeth practically piercing his gums as they cleaned rocks out of your fingers and hair. He watched with piercing eyes to make sure no one got too close or hung around for too long. 

He watches without a word, paying little mind to the energy that somehow runs through his veins – nor the fact that he was visibly growing more powerful by the minute. For he stares curiously, trying to decipher why you had the odd black wing tucked beneath your white – now ashy grey ones. And he asks himself with no answer why you had no halo. All angels had a hallow. It was a sign of their purity.

Now, the covers were drawn back but the cup of water sat untouched. The blinds were still drawn and there was no sign of an escape. He hates that word – escape. It made it sound like you were a prisoner which you weren’t. There is, however, a closed bathroom door.

But not even a second later it opens and you step out. Wearing merely a cotton towel instead of the tattered and torn gown he’d seen you in last. 

You jump apon spotting the demon, letting out a small noise of shock – if you could even call it that and Tom puts his hands up in surrender. 

“Hi,” He speaks. 

Though his small ‘hi’ sounds more like a question as he tests the waters and when you don’t respond, merely look down at your uncovered, blistered feet he speaks up again. “You can talk to me, you know? I won’t bite.”

Your mouth feels so dry and you were yet to have a drink or even try speaking after the fall. But it’s not that that keeps your lips sealed shut as if they’d been superglued. It was the fact that this was him. And it’s not like your sudden fear goes unnoticed too. Because Tom feels it and while the weight on his chest doesn’t necessarily affect him, he’s aware that you currently want to disappear. He’s aware that he scares you yet he shouldn’t and he wishes that he didn’t.

Your heart is thumping in your chest, ears ringing and your palms grow clammy, though that may have been due to the extraordinary heat.

“You probably will.” Your voice is small, merely a squeak and Tom resist the urge to chuckle. 

“I promise I won’t, yeah?” It’s a promise that the King swears to keep. Something that didn’t happen often. “Want to tell me how you got here, darling? Because it’s not every day that angels just jump into Hell.”

Tom smiles, noticing you’d taken advantage of the warm bath he’d run you. He hoped you liked the bubbles too, and the scent he’d stolen from Harrison's room. Your hair was still hanging in wet strands but it was cleaner then before, no longer an ugly ashy colour, and the wine stain coloured blood has left your cheeks but there’s bruises – most definitely. They line your legs and your back, trekking up your arms and the grazes still prevent you from intertwining your hands together.

“I didn’t jump, I fell.” You correct him. You speak up a little more this time, though your gaze still remains on the floor instead of the handsome demon. Tom takes one step forward and you take one step back. “On purpose?”

“I… don’t know.” You answer, genuinely having difficulty remembering what had happened moments before you fell. Everything was a blur and as it was, you still had decided that you liked Hell more then Heaven.

Tom furrows his brows, knotting a set of hands together behind his back. “Were you pushed?”

“No– no way, I wasn’t pushed.” You shake your head, lifting your gaze just enough to spot him for a second before snapping it back to the floor. Cheeks heat up, rising to the temperature of the room though that could either be due to your body adjusting to the heat or spotting the look on the king's face. Catching your short glimpse, he allowed his lips to curl up in a cheeky, semi-grin. 

“Enough about this for now. Your name, it’s Y/N, correct?” Tom prompts. “How do you know my name?” Your eyes widen, wings hiding away behind your back. 

Tom steps forward again. Only this time you don’t step back. You’re not scared by the energy he projects. It’s not dangerous – or at least it doesn’t feel dangerous. He hasn’t got you shaking into the cotton towel or begging for your life much as you’d expected. Instead, you hardly budge. 

“Darling, I’m the king of Hell, I know everything.” He replies coyly. “I’m Tom.” The king holds his hand out, waiting for you to shake it and you glance at his outstretched hand with much hesitation. Surely he was going to shock you – or break your arm when you took his hand at the least. You wait for him to lower his hand, but seeing your unmoving form Tom keeps his hand outstretched and deciding that it was now or never, you carefully take his hand.

Nothing happens. Nothing. He only guides your intertwined hands up and down a few times before letting go and you’re positively gobsmacked. A wave of relief washes over you, one that’s felt by the two of you. Absolutely nothing happens but surely he had to be plotting something, right? He was the king of the underworld, a demon and practically a god.

Wrong. Tom bites back a smile, mind the clearest it’d been in months and saying he felt sparks when he took your hand was far too cliche – especially for the king. So he merely stares blankly, ignoring the evident sparks that’d shot up his hand as he took yours. And he ignores the temptation to do it again.

“Tom.” You speak softly, testing the name out. He basks in the sound of his name falling from your lips so clearly. It slips past your lips like honey, floating sweetly through the room. Feeling his eyes practically boring holes into you, you pull the towel closer to your body, hugging your arms against your chest. “If you don’t mind, I need to… I should…”

Directing your gaze to the set of clothes that had been left sitting on the edge of the bed, Tom gapes. You’re stepping around him carefully, hardly making a noise as you creep, every move more calculated then the last.

“Oh, yeah, of course. I’ll let you get changed.” He says. But he doesn’t move yet. Tom watches as you creep towards the bed – slowing down on the way over only to touch the burning flames that keep the room lit. He expects you to wince – to retreat your hand into your chest but your fingers dance around the flame, playing a sick game. He hardly makes it out of the room. "Doesn't that hurt?"

Tom continued to watch intently, as you let your fingers play with the flame. Something that could burn even some of the weakest Demons. Not him though, and apparently not you. From his bed, he could see your fingers that weren't even tinted red, no sign of burns as you pull it back. Retreating from the blaze.

"I-, No." Your voice was quiet but he heard clear as day.

He pressed again. "Not at all?"

You fiddled with your fingers. "Is it supposed too?"

Tom shook his head, of course it didn't hurt. You were supposed to spend your lifetime down there with him, surrounded by the scolding heat that sent some people insane. Demons and fallen angels alike. Of course you were immune and the sight impresses him to say the least.

Tom struts around with those raven wings, the ones you'd been shown photos of and warned to stay away from at all costs. Even laying a hand on the charcoal coloured feathers was said to cause excruciating pain but you don’t stop your wandering thoughts that wonder just for a second if what you’d been taught was true. The demons would corrupt you, they told you. But now you were standing mere meters in front of one and you felt the same as you did in Heaven.

Maybe Heaven was your Hell.

The brunette coughs. “I’ll leave now but… you're going to be eating dinner with me."

Your eyes widen in shock. "W-with you?" 

First, he offered a shower, then clean clothes that were free of any trace of Heaven and what they'd done to you, and now you were supposed to sit and eat?

He smirks. "That's what I said, was it not?"

"No, I just-,"

"What? Never eaten dinner with a demon before?" You shake your head, well duh. "Relax, my teeth will be biting into the food, not you." His comment makes all blood run to your cheeks  – you were seemingly hotter than the flames that you'd just touched, skin blazing.

You'd never eaten dinner with a demon, nor had you eaten with a king before and your heart was practically beating out of your chest as you stood in front of the king of hell that you'd met merely hours ago. Tom could hear every beat, feel every shake that racked your body.

"Relax." He muttered. "I won't hurt you, you're my-, my guest." He had to stop himself from saying what he desperately wanted to. 

You nod, "Do you uhh-, do you hurt your guests?"

"Usually." He shrugs. Only after does he notice your shudder. "But you're not just a guest." Tom corrects, his black shirt rising. "Get changed and I’ll get Harrison to come and grab you in ten.”

This had to be some kind of joke, surely he was leading you to your demise. He was going to feed you poison food. Put blades in between mashed potatoes and spit on whatever else would be put on your plate. Spit on it? You shake your head, that was weak. Surely the king of pain and punishment would do more.

You swallow, watching the door close behind him and release a quiet sob into the towel that belonged to the one person you were never supposed to converse with. It that felt wrong. Because that’s what you’d been told – that was how you’d grown up. Never once had you felt comfortable anywhere and Hell was no different. 

What had you gotten yourself into?

Three

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[grither55]

The Princess and the Peasant - (An Azula Epic) - Chapter 57 - Yoko

Twenty minutes later in a small room.

Elle sat gazing up at Azula while her master hovered over her with a sigh escaping her lips.

“You are to remain under Nako’s supervision until I am concluded with business here.” Azula announced in an authoritative voice as she reached out to cup her smiling handmaid’s cheek.

“Yes, Master Azula.” Elle agreed in a worshipful voice while Azula peered down at her with a charming smile on her red lips.

“And don’t go wandering off the palace grounds.” The princess commented as she twirled a fingernail in her hair while she held onto her young girlfriend’s lovely cheek.

“As you say Azula-sama. Always as you say.” The blonde-haired girl spoke sweetly as she pushed her face into the older female’s robed belly while her master sighed above her.

“Just…be a good girl for me.” Azula sighed with her palms lowering into her servant’s hair while she momentarily cradled Elle’s head against her belly.

“A-Azula-sama.” Elle murmured in an adorable stutter with her eyes closing against Azula’s belly while the much taller woman petted her hair.

“That’s my little lady.” The princess stated with another sigh while she patted her giggling serving girl’s golden head.

The teenager just smiled with her face against the monarch’s stomach while long fingernails continued to pat her hair.

“P-please don’t let anything bad happen to Mai.” The blonde-haired girl muttered with her face in the older female’s toned stomach.

Azula just released a snide snort while she turned to glare at the nearest wall.

“I already told you that Mai isn’t going to die. I am well aware that there would be no end to your tears if I let that happen.” The princess grumbled with a roll of her elegant eyes while she gazed down at her handmaid’s softly smiling face.

“Wakarimashita Azula-sama.” Elle replied with a returning grin on her lips while she blushed when she received another pat to the head.

“That will be all for now peasant. I will see you when we are finished with Governor Yoko.” Azula concluded with a sigh before she pushed her pouting handmaid away.

But even so.

The small girl happily nodded while the callous older female gazed down at her with strict golden eyes.

And with that the princess exited the room and joined back up with her two childhood friends.

The monarch gazed hard at their worried faces with icy golden eyes as they began to make their way into the palace meeting chamber.

“Do exactly as I say and keep your mouths shut unless spoken to. And above all. Try to look just a wee bit remorseful. That is…if you want to live.” The princess ordered with her arms crossed over her breasts while the acrobat flinched as she gazed at the markswoman’s apathetic face.

“Got it Azula.” The markswoman answered in an unusually wary voice as they strode down the hall of the vast palace.

At the end of the hall stood Zoe leaning against the palace wall.

Gone was her cloak and combat gear.

She now stood in a red long-sleeved shirt with black dress pants, and a red tie round her neck while she turned to meet Azula’s almost amused gaze.

“You almost look like nobility. But not quite.” Azula commented as she surveyed the soldier with her nose wrinkling while Zoe released a defiant scoff.

“What are you my mother?” Zoe replied with a trace of light hearted annoyance in her voice before she started striding down the hall.

Mai and Ty Lee grudgingly followed after Azula while the acrobat continued casting her leader a pleading look.

Only to find themselves pausing when the captain froze in her tracks in front of them.

It soon became apparent why.

Standing in front of the warrior was a younger girl of around sixteen years of age.

She almost looked like a younger and more proper Zoe!

Except her dark hair was in a top-knot and she did not look like the fighter that her older sister was known to be.

The young woman wore elegant red robes and she hazel eyes were staring back at the warrior in shock.

“I take it that this is your…” The princess trailed off in a mildly intrigued voice before she watched in surprise when her soldier pulled her sibling into a sisterly embrace.

Team Azula gaped in disbelief to see the ruthless fighter openly expression affection that Azula would never show Zuko.

“Sia! How have you been? Well I hope?” The captain greeted with a small smile while she embraced the younger girl under her arm.

Only for a rare spark of hurt to flash in her eyes when a hand quickly pushed her back.

“You can’t just come back and hug me after you left me behind for some stupid mission. You haven’t even written me in eight months.” The younger sister responded with bitterness in her voice while the older sister’s face took on an expression of great remorse.

The curt greeting took all three members of Team Azula aback.

And Azula was already casting the younger girl a narrowed stare over how she openly referred to her mission was ‘stupid’.

“I-I know that I messed up but…” Zoe spoke with the words dying in her throat while Sia turned away.

“I only came here to see if you were alright after your recent assassination attempt.” Sia stated with shared hurt in her hazel eyes as she gazed down at her feet.

“I…understand. Thank you for coming.” The captain muttered in a tone of soured spirits while her sister turned to face her monarch.

“Princess.” The younger sister commented in a bow while the princess gazed at her in mild annoyance only for her to rise before the woman could respond.

And then she quickly departed through the closed doors while the two noblewomen gazed at their leader’s irked face.

The acrobat could only sigh as she gazed at Azula’s aggravated face.

It was good to see that the younger sister was seemingly more tolerable than the older.

But understandably distant after not seeing her older sister for a year.

“Disrespectful brat.” Azula complained in a moody voice while Mai rolled her eyes at the back of her head.

And strangely enough it wasn’t just because the girl dubbed her mission stupid.

Her soldier’s greeting was a kinder one than she would have ever given her own brother.

And the girl had the nerve to openly throw it back in her face with no regard for proper conduct in front of royalty.

And without speaking another word Zoe entered through the doors of the meeting chamber.

Team Azula followed soon after.

And soon enough they were seated at a table with Azula at the head in a plush throne.

The monarch reclined with a bored sigh escaping her lips as she gazed at the long table before her.

Mai and Ty Lee sat on one side.

The two women were gazing around the room with open fear in their eyes.

And across the table sat Zoe and Sia.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes over how her soldier was so pitifully trying to win back the younger’s affections.

“Oh, come on now Sia.” Zoe sighed as she leaned into her bandaged fist while Sia poured herself a tall glass of wine.

All the while Mai watched with a twinge of smugness in her eyes when the younger girl ignored her sister.

And then began unceremoniously gulping down the healthy glass.

“Are you trying to drink me away?” The captain asked with a trace of disappointment in her voice while the princess snorted at the head of the table.

“This is pathetic Zoe.” The princess taunted while she stared on in annoyance just as the younger now slammed the empty glass onto the table.

“I’m sorry…did you say something?” Sia answered with a twinge of sass in her voice while Zoe turned away in a sigh.

“Where is Governor Yoko? I do not like to be kept waiting!” Azula demanded with a puff of fire escaping her nostrils while her friends winced over her volume.

“Finishing up with Governor Ukano I presume.” The younger sister replied dryly in a tone of little care with her words causing all of Team Azula to gaze at her in shock.

“My…father is here?” Mai questioned with both worry and shame in her voice while she sunk back in her seat.

“Of course, he is. Did you think that you could try to strap a bomb to back of the intended heir of House Song and not face any comeuppance? Not too bright are you.” Sia inquired with a lovely brow raising inquisitively while Mai’s face took on an ever so slightly angered stare.

And once more Ty Lee shivered while she sat with Azula’s icy eyes glaring back at Mai once more.

“Tell me…Sia. Why wasn’t I informed that Governor Ukano would be here?” The princess queried in a beyond strict voice while the younger girl shrugged her shoulders.

“I have no clue as to why that would be Your Highness. I just got here myself. In any case…” The younger sister trailed off before she spun around to the doors when they were suddenly shoved open.

Standing in the doorway was an imposing female figure that suddenly had all but Azula falling silent under her glare.

An older woman in her mid-forties with piercing hazel eyes now stared back at them as she swiftly strode in.

She had long wavy hair that was elegantly tied in the customary top-knot.

Her magnificent red robes flowed with her every step while her jaw clenched at the sight of Mai’s fearful face.

A black sash was tried around her waistline and she wore similarly colored sleeves that hung before her tightened fists.

The Fire Nation symbol decorated her swaying garments.

And her black boots clicked upon the palace floors as she came to a stop before the long table.

And then she turned to face Azula’s callous face as she bent over in a curtsy before the younger woman’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Princess Azula, I would say that it is good to see you. But considering the nature of this visit. That would be a lie.” Yoko remarked with her arms at her sides while Azula sat up in her throne.

“Greetings Governor Yoko. I have come to personally mediate and bring swift resolution to the dispute between House Song and House Lin.” Azula spoke with her palms folded in her lap while Yoko arose from her bow.

The older woman’s cold eyes glared back at the shrinking markswoman once more while the acrobat trembled alongside her.

The most astonishing thing of all was the fact that if they had never met Ursa when they were children that they would have thought that Yoko was Azula’s mother.

And then the matriarch of House Song turned to gaze icily back at her two daughters before her hazel eyes narrowed at the two of them.

“Put your hair in a bun Zoe.” The governor commanded with her back now turned to the amused monarch.

“I don’t wear my hair in a bun.” The captain retorted in a stubborn voice while the older woman took a seat in her chair on the opposite end of the table of her monarch.

All the while the two noblewomen cast her hidden gazes of amusement when her mother glared back at her.

“Put it in a bun.” Yoko repeated with her rigid gaze staring back at Zoe’s scowling face.

“Princess Azula doesn’t care if I wear it in a bun.” Zoe argued with her finger tapping on the tabletop while Azula rolled her eyes at her expense.

“Do it Zoe or I will do it for you.” The governor snapped with orange flames sparking to life in the torches behind her.

And both Mai and Ty Lee watched in hidden amusement when Zoe began to tie her hair in a bun for the first time since they’ve met her.

“This looks stupid. My hair is short. It doesn’t tie into a proper bun.” The captain grumbled with her little sister pouring herself another tall glass of wine.

“That’s right Zoe. Put your hair in a bun.” The princess taunted in a smug voice with her finger pointing in the prideful woman’s direction.

And then the older woman turned to narrow her eyes at her youngest daughter’s buzzed face in anger.

Azula turned to gaze at the daughter with likewise disapproval while the girl began to down another glass.

“Put that away Sia! How dare you disrespect the Crown Princess by getting yourself lushed in her presence.” Yoko barked as she sat straight in her chair while the princess turned to direct her an approving glance.

“You of all people should know that I am not doing it to disrespect Princess Azula. I am doing it to drown you out.” Sia answered in a rebellious voice while an unnerved silence spread over the table while Zoe cast her a sympathetic glance.

That was when a pinpoint ball of fire hit the wine bottle and sent it shattering onto the floor.

The liquid spilled on the carpet below while Ty Lee shuddered as she fell back in her seat.

“Speak to me like that again and the next one is going to impact with your flesh. My apologies Your Highness.” The governor declared with a glower on her lips while the monarch turned to gaze back at her with coldly amused golden eyes.

“Yes well. I am used to Zoe’s behavior by now.” Azula stated in a sophisticated voice with her face leaning into her right fist.

That was when the doors opened once more as everyone turned their head to gaze upon the newcomer.

Mai’s eyes widened in renewed shame when she found herself gazing upon her father’s distraught face.

He looked as if he had just finished a meeting with Azula!

The tired older man strode in while he gazed back at his daughter with disconcerted tawny eyes.

“Mai…please tell me that it isn’t true…” Ukano spoke in a torn-up voice while he gazed imploringly at his daughter’s ashamed face.

The acrobat set her palm on her friend’s shoulder while the weapons expert audibly swallowed down her nervousness.

And every set of eyes was now upon Mai as she tried to avoid gazing her father in the eye.

“It is true. I tried to kill Zoe because she was going to kill the man that I love.” Mai confessed in a quiet voice while she averted her eyes from her father’s ashamed gaze.

“You betrayed Princess Azula and tried to murder the firstborn of a fellow house for your treasonous former prince?” The nobleman questioned as he numbly made his way forward while his daughter gazed down at the table.

He had hoped that there was a misunderstanding.

That it was just House Song slander!

“Treason…or not…I love Zuko.” The markswoman mumbled in a far-off voice while her fellow noblewoman patted her shoulder.

The princess groaned under her breath while she massaged the bridge of her nose.

All the while glaring back at her friend with aggravated golden eyes.

‘I explicitly recall telling her to act remorseful!’ Azula thought with her palm over her sighing face while Yoko turned to glare a hole through Mai’s skull.

“You tried to murder my first born. With a bomb to the back…and more at her feet.” Yoko announced in a wrathful voice with flames accentuating her visage while her livid eyes never left Mai’s guilty face.

“I…I don’t deny it.” Mai admitted lamely while even Ty Lee shivered beside her.

And her father’s hands fell to his sides while he gazed between Zoe’s still angered face and then to her even more furious mother.

“That’s all you have to say after you tried to murder my daughter!” The governor roared with her fist slamming onto the shaking tabletop while the two noblewomen recoiled under her enraged glare.

The princess sighed once more as she leaned into her palm while she eyed her friend in ever rising annoyance.

All of the sudden that beach day with her pet was sounding quite nice in comparison to this.

‘I would much rather be laying on a warm beach with Elle spreading oil along my back.’ Azula thought with a snort of fire releasing from her nostrils while she glared from one person to another.

“Please Governor Yoko! T-there must be something that I can do to remedy this offense!” Ukano exclaimed as he turned to Yoko’s seething face only to find himself paling under her glare.

“She is my firstborn! Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t wipe your house off the face of this Earth!” Yoko hissed with her fist tightening in her rage while the two noblewomen and Ukano paled in growing fear.

“In the interest of maintaining the strength of both houses for the continued war effort. I would sentence House Lin to a period of three years as the vassal house of House Song.” The princess announced with her arms on the side of her throne while her callous eyes stared about the room.

A look of rightful dread appeared on the older man’s wary face as he turned to cast his ashamed daughter a mortified glance.

And a look of intrigue flashed in Sia’s eyes as she turned to gaze at her older siblings clearly victorious face.

And then they both turned to gaze back at their mother to see that the offer had not abated the matriarch’s anger.

That was when the older woman spoke words that stunned all but her daughters.

“I decline your offer Princess Azula.” Yoko responded in a still wrathful voice with her hardened eyes gazing back into Azula’s narrowing gaze.

That was all it took for Ty Lee to shudder as she gazed between the impending stare down between the two powerful firebenders.

Ukano and Mai were as silent as a mouse while they waited for Azula to hopefully resolve the matter in a way that would allow them to continue to draw breath.

“You decline?” Azula growled with soaring frustration in her voice only to whip her head around when soldiers stepped into the chamber.

“I have a larger army. And the most impregnable city out of all the noble houses. It is near impossible to siege Fire Mountain. The same cannot be said for Ash City. Which will be a fitting namesake. By the time I am through with it.” The governor declared in a cold voice as she stood up with guards flanking her back.

The princess sat with her teeth clenched in her fury as she turned to glare at her childhood friends terrified faces.

“A-Azula. Do something.” The brown-haired woman begged in a trembling voice while her leader continued to cast them stares of disgust.

“Zoe!” Yoko ordered with a wave of her hand while all eyes fell on Zoe as they watched the soldier quickly stand up.

The captain briefly made eye contact with the princess’s displeased face before she unsheathed her sword as commanded.

“My apologies princess. But I can’t really disobey Mother. Most especially not for House Lin.” Zoe spoke with her blade now pointing back against Ukano’s gasping throat.

“Governor Yoko! Order your soldiers to stand down!” The princess snapped as she pushed herself to her feet while she glared ahead with terrifying golden eyes.

Yet to her growing aggravation and to some degree respect the matriarch did not shrink under her glare.

“Why should the strongest house yield to the treasonous house? You come here to my city. And you insult me to my face. After all my house has done for the Crown. After my daughter was nearly killed in your service. And you want me to yield?” The governor retorted with her fists at her hips while she met her monarch’s domineering stare.

This is not something that she would normally do.

But she could not let such a slight to her house slide.

“P-Princess Azula I beg of you.” The nobleman pleaded with the soldier’s sword at his throat while the callous young woman eyed him in annoyance.

“Under no circumstances are you to harm the Crown Princess! If House Wan stands with House Lin. Kill her too.” Yoko commanded with a scowl entrenched on her lips while her soldiers rushed forward to apprehend Mai.

Azula stood gazing around the chamber while she watched soldiers seize Mai from behind.

“Azula!” Ty Lee exclaimed only for Azula’s cold glare to silence her pleas.

“Shut up Ty Lee! You’ve got no right to complain.” Azula snarled with her arms folded over her breasts while the acrobat sunk back in defeat.

“As I understand it there was a recent attempt on Her Highness’s life. Tell me Zoe. How did princess Azula handle her murder attempt?” The governor pondered as she moved forward while the monarch glared between her and her daughter.

“She set him on fire and pushed him down a cliff.” The captain answered with her blade digging into the older man’s neck while his distraught tawny eyes swept about.

“The man was a nameless nobody. Mai is the heir to House Lin. If you wipe out House Lin it will fracture our strength. It will only serve to weaken us on Sozin’s Comet.” The princess explained in a voice of absolute authority while her icy gaze never left the older woman’s face.

“You are correct princess. A civil war would weaken us exponentially. If that is the price that must be paid then so be it. I will not allow this slight against my house to stand.” Yoko insisted in an equally rigid voice while she turned to glare at Mai’s sweating face.

“You would knowingly cripple the Fire Nation just to make a point?” Azula inquired as she rose an inquisitive brow while she gazed back into the noblewoman’s ruthless hazel eyes.

There was no doubt that House Song was stronger than House Lin.

House Lin has a history of ineffectual leadership.

If she must choose between one or the other…

“I would. House Song must be respected. And this disrespect will not stand.” The governor spoke as she stood before the markswoman’s restrained face.

The acrobat gazed up with terribly worried brown-gray eyes while her friend stared back into the matriarch’s cold eyes.

And not a second later the younger woman was sent soaring to the ground with a painful welt on her cheek.

“Do you really think that you can try to kill my daughter and live to brag about it?” Yoko questioned in a wrathful voice with her fist at her hip while Mai held onto her throbbing cheek.

Ty Lee gazed down at her terrified friend as her heart began to pound at the sight of Mai at the older woman’s mercy.

But she knew better than to say anything more.

‘Azula! Please! Mai saved your brother’s life!’ The brown-haired woman thought with her clammy hands grasping at the tabletop.

“What must be done to satisfy you Governor Yoko?” The princess asked in a scarily calm voice while the older woman turned to meet her gaze.

“House Lin must feel what I felt when I heard that she almost took my daughter’s life.” The governor remarked with her fists clenched at her womanly hips while she turned to glare back at Ukano’s fraught countenance.

“What…what are you suggesting Governor Yoko?” The nobleman inquired in turn with sweat dripping down his face.

“You will need my house princess Azula. Should a succession battle break out your victory will depend largely on my military might.” Yoko commented as she turned to gaze back into Azula’s narrowing golden eyes.

‘Succession battle? Does she know of my father’s plans to crown himself Phoenix King?’ Azula thought with her eyes flashing in renewed rage while she turned to scowl in the direction of her downed friend.

“Otherwise. I just may begin to question if you are viewing the situation in clarity. Or if your reason is clouded in bias for your treasonous brother and childhood friend.” The governor stated in an unwavering voice while the monarch spun around with noticeable anger in her fiery gaze.

“You dare to threaten me?” The princess asked in a furious voice with fire spewing from her full lips while she glared at the older woman’s steely face.

Right now, she wanted nothing more than to kill everyone in this room and leave to spend the day with her handmaid!

Sia still sat in her seat with a glass in hand while she turned to gaze at her older sister.

Zoe pressed her elbow in Ukano’s throat while she met her little sister’s gaze.

The meaning of the look was quite clear.

The younger was curious to see what would become of this dispute.

“No. I am warning you. I am going to decide a proper punishment for House Lin. And hope that you will lend me your blessings.” Yoko spoke in a sophisticated voice as she met Azula’s frozen gaze.

But at long last Azula relented as she turned to glare back at Mai’s bruised face.

The statuesque woman placed her fists on her shapely hips before she terrified her friends when she waved a consenting hand in the air.

“Ugh! Whatever. Take House Lin into custody!” Azula barked in a tyrannical voice while she ignored Ty Lee’s pleading brown-gray eyes.

Mai was soon pulled to her feet by the soldiers while she hung in their grip as they began to escort her past the worried acrobat.

“If you must take a life Governor Yoko, I ask you to take mine.” Ukano offered in a distraught voice while Mai turned to gaze at him in horror.

“N-no! Father!” Mai protested in a shocked voice while she was led ahead alongside her father.

“Zoe! Where is Chancellor Terak?” The governor inquired as she turned to gaze at her oldest daughter’s composed face.

“Skulking around the palace I presume.” Zoe responded from where she stood behind Ukano while Azula also gazed around in search of the absent man.

“Bring him to me. He is just as much to blame for this mess as House Lin.” Yoko demanded with unexplained fury in her voice while Azula tilted her head in puzzlement.

The statement came across as a surprising one to both members of House Lin and their allies.

“Really? How so?” The princess questioned with mild intrigue in her voice while she scanned her fingernails in an impassive manner.

“My sources confirm that witnesses confirm that the rebels slipped through the Volcano Straits. The very territory that Chancellor Terak was overseeing. If he had caught them in the first place then the ambush would have never occurred to begin with and House Lin would have not had the momentum to make such a cowardly attempt on Zoe’s life.” The governor explained in a rigid voice that was shared by the now glowering monarch.

“You mean to tell me that I spent nine days on that wretched island because they slipped through under his watch?” Azula snapped with her jaw clenched in returning rage while she tightly gripped her fists.

No wonder the bastard had been so adamant about rushing to her aid!

He was trying to make up for his blunder!

“So, you mean the ambush was all the chancellor’s fault?” Sia asked in a wryly amused voice while Zoe held onto her prisoner’s shirt.

“Why does that not surprise me.” The captain snorted with a roll of her eyes only to turn towards the doorway when she saw a figure approaching behind the soldiers.

Everyone turned their heads to see a familiar man rushing in past the soldiers.

The princess’s golden eyes narrowed at the sight of Terak’s panting face he hurried in with his hands clasped in his robed sleeves.

“Greetings Chancellor Terak. As you can see. We are in the middle of dealing with House Lin’s attempt on my daughter’s life. I have received word that you let the Dragon of the West slip through your fingers…in turn endangering both my daughter…and the Crown Princess.” Yoko remarked as she turned to gaze at the approaching Terak.

Azula cast Yoko a glare through the corner of her eye for being so bold as to list her second.

And then she turned her callous stare back to the official as he hurried into the meeting chamber.

“Do you have anything to say in your defense? Before I have you killed?” The governor pondered in a frightening voice that sent a shiver down the acrobat’s spine.

The politician stepped forward with a finger under his chin before he turned to gaze into Mai’s fearful eyes and then into Ukano’s panicking tawny eyes.

Before he turned to meet both the governor and the monarch’s cold gaze.

“You speak wisely Governor Yoko. The ambush is completely my fault.” Terak replied with a guilty shake of his head while his surprised audience all gazed at him as he made his way into the room.

Suffice to say everyone was taken aback by the man’s readiness to admit blame.

The only two who weren’t were Azula and Yoko.

The governor furrowed her brows as she eyed the approaching man with thoughtful hazel eyes.

While Azula turned to eye the man with her red lips falling into a thin line.

Her thoughts immediately hearkened back to her previous talk with the politician.

This man is no simple matter.

“You admit that you’ve failed me chancellor?” The princess asked in a regal voice with her harsh voice cutting through the air like a whip.

“If this is true then you will be punished alongside House Lin.” Yoko stated as she tilted around to glare at the advancing Terak.

“I do princess! I merit only the harshest of punishment!” The chancellor exclaimed as he nodded speedily while the markswoman gazed at him as if he had just grown a second head.

Many began to nod in agreement while the two commanding women observed his approach with suspicion in their eyes.

“Then that is what you shall receive.” Azula snorted as she tapped her boot on the flooring while Terak gazed from one face after another.

“Yes, punish us! Flog us! Flay us! Crucify us! For we deserve nothing less! Is that not right Governor Ukano! Oh, the shame!” Terak cried out with a hand over his face while the two members of House Lin stared at him in abject horror.

Ty Lee nearly fell out of her seat when she caught sight of the sadistic smile that was appearing on Azula’s lips.

Left and right the soldiers began to murmur as they all gazed at the robed official as he made his was forward.

“W-what are you doing Chancellor Terak? You should be dissuading them not encouraging them!” Ukano protested in fright while he shuddered alongside his daughter.

“We no longer deserve basic humanity decency! Tear us apart by the bone Governor Yoko! Use us for target practice princess! For we have forfeited our right to live!” The chancellor told his stunned audience while he gazed around with a small smile on his lips.

The entire chamber now stood in a speechless shock while they gazed at the official’s eager face in fright.

“P-please don’t listen to him Azula! He’s clearly insane!” The brown-haired woman shouted as she stood up with the help of her crutch while she still gazed at her friend’s amused face.

Yoko turned to share a knowing glance with Zoe before she gazed back at Terak’s approaching face.

“Y-yes please don’t.” The older man pleaded in a terrified voice while he gazed imploringly into his monarch’s callous golden eyes.

“If only I had known that Iroh’s spies had this great of a reach.” Terak lamented with a heavy sigh as he hung his head while the crowd continued to gaze at him in confusion.

“Explain yourself Terak.” The governor stated as she gazed at the official with curious hazel eyes while her monarch did the same.

“I hesitated to bring this to the princess’s attention earlier because I feared that it would upset her too terribly.” The chancellor commented as he rushed forward to the monarch’s side while she now gazed at him in noticeable entertainment.

“How kind of you to worry about my wellbeing.” The princess stated dryly as she studied her well-manicured fingernails while she cast the man an intelligent stare.

“I have reason to believe that one of the ten nobles houses have betrayed our divine princess in a plot orchestrated by the Dragon of the West to coronate her treacherous brother!” Terak announced with a theatrical wave of his hand while Azula’s amusement began to transform into a callous death stare.

“A treasonous noble house…” Ukano muttered in bewilderment while Mai began to grit her teeth alongside him.

“A noble house has betrayed me you say?” Azula questioned in a dangerous voice with her cold eyes gazing at her scheming adviser’s face.

It was possible that he was just lying to save his own skin.

But at the same time…

Her uncle’s ambush on her royal airship, that assassination attempt, the mysterious puppeteer and the rebel force all pointed to the possibility.

“Her Highness was placed on our most isolated isle and then they tried to starve her out! They even tried to put a sword in her back! This house has even stooped so low as to leave behind a band of savages to pick her off while she searched for food for her hungry people! This house premeditated and coordinated this attack with the Dragon of the West! For shame!” The chancellor explained as he spun about the room while his increasingly astonished audience remained focused on him.

All around the room the soldiers continued to mutter in disbelief.

While their highborn rulers gazed from one another with paranoid looks in their eyes.

But none more so than Princess Azula herself.

Her teeth ground together over the mere reminder of everything that she has endured in those nine days.

Which was to say nothing of the stabbing of her treasured handmaid!

“No Azula. No.” Mai spoke with rising terror in her voice while she shivered under Azula’s vengeful glare.

“And last but most certainly not least…this house sought to remove our famous hero Captain Zoe from the playing field by first disabling her airship and finishing it with an assassination attempt to the back!” Terak shouted as he turned to meet Zoe’s narrowing gaze.

“Explosives in the fucking back.” Zoe stated with her bandaged fist clenched in her fury as she turned around to glare at her attacker’s sweating face.

The acrobat’s mouth dropped open in her horror as she watched everyone but her turn to gaze at Mai and her father with accusatory eyes.

“A-Azula Mai wouldn’t.” Ty Lee stuttered as she moved forward to tug on Azula’s arm only for her hand to be coldly slapped away.

A flicker of hurt flashed in her eyes as she recoiled under her friends piercing stare.

“I have heard enough of your soft-spoken weakness Ty Lee! And I am just as through with being questioned and disobeyed!” The princess bellowed as she loomed over her now frightened friend while the acrobat shakily nodded.

“W-whatever you say Azula.” The brown-haired woman mumbled as she turned away while her leader turned to glare at the horrified patriarch of House Lin.

And Yoko turned towards the scene with a spark of satisfaction flashing in her merciless eyes.

‘It doesn’t matter if it is true or not. This is my chance to punish House Lin accordingly.’ Yoko thought as she walked forward with her fists at her hips.

“N-no princess! It isn’t true!” Ukano cried out as he thrashed in the arms of his captors while Azula exhaled flames through her furious nostrils.

“But it is true Ukano. You forestalled my hunt for the spies and it is you who assisted the Dragon of the West in travelling through the Volcano Straits undetected. And it was thanks to you that Iroh managed to ambush both airships leaving Princess Azula’s forces stranded on the island.” The chancellor accused as he stepped forward with a small smile on his lips.

Ty Lee stared between Azula and Terak with soaring dread in her eyes before she turned around to seethe at the man’s back.

What a deceitful bastard!

He’s just as manipulative as Azula!

“Deceiver! You lie!” The nobleman yelled out with a brief burst of anger while his daughter thrashed in the grip of the soldiers.

“Release my father! Do what you want with me but let my father go!” The markswoman shouted while she glared hatefully at the official through the corner of her eye.

“Do I? Then where is former prince Zuko!” Terak answered as he rubbed his folded sleeves together while Ukano recoiled with hopeless terror in his eyes.

The gravity of the accusations was now beginning to sink in to all in the chamber.

And Ty Lee couldn’t help but drop her crutch in her growing fright as she began to realize just how guilty Ukano looked right now.

Mai’s actions were nothing more than that of a woman acting in defense of her injured lover.

And yet this man was effortlessly twisting it to seem like a grand plot against Azula!

“I…don’t know.” Ukano admitted in a quiet voice while Azula still cast him a callous golden glare.

“How convenient. Considering that your daughter helped the traitor prince escape while striking down our noble captain.” The chancellor spoke with his palms clasped together while his crafty smile continued to grow.

Sia exchanged a glance with her older sister before she turned back to the chancellor in question.

He truly was a silver-tongued devil.

“It wasn’t an Agni damned attempt to coronate Zuko! She was trying to kill the man that I love! So, I tried to kill her in turn! It was that simple Azula!” Mai hollered with humiliated anger in her eyes while all eyes in the room continued to stare upon them in accusation.

The princess could only snort through her nostrils as she glared at her captive friend.

And then she gazed around to see that the second admission of guilt only served as fuel for the governor’s fury.

‘Mai you are such a fool. You know nothing of tact.’ Azula thought with a shake of her head before she turned around to Terak once more.

She knew well enough that House Lin was not in league with her uncle.

Ukano was far too dense for such a manipulation.

However, the chancellor has presented her a well needed example.

The chance of there being a treasonous noble house was quite high.

If there was one…it was one of the seven not present!

But this would serve well as a reminder that her will is absolute and that she is not to be defied!

“You tried to kill my daughter while she was in the princess’s service! Fighting for our country!” The governor growled as she moved forward like a bloodthirsty viper while the two nobles paled in terror under her stare.

“P-please Governor Yoko.” The nobleman begged once more with his words dying in his throat.

“Did your daughter not try to murder my own blood?” Yoko asked with maternal ire in her voice while Ukano slumped in shame.

And Mai’s hair began to stick to her sweating face while she averted her eyes from her father’s ashamed gaze.

Ty Lee trembled in panic while she gazed on at the two with her eyes wide in horror.

“It…is true.” Ukano mumbled as he fell back in the soldier’s arms.

And then Terak spun around to meet Azula’s icy gaze while she gazed at him in slight amusement.

“My divine princess I have worked tirelessly to uncover the chain of spies. I have already found one…indisputable spy who has eavesdropped on you on more than one occasion. Sooner or later that chain will lead right back to the source.” Terak declared with menace in his step while Azula listened with grudging approval in her eyes.

“One spy for certain…and yet you openly admit that you have failed to foresee the attack on my airship?” The princess queried in a regal voice with her calculating eyes focusing on the man’s narrow face.

“Yes, my princess. I have let you down by failing to find your uncle’s ally. And yet unlike Governor Ukano…I bring you results.” The chancellor responded with a hand over his chest while the monarch gazed down at him in a contemplative silence.

Before the beautiful woman turned to glare at her horrified lifelong friend and her equally panicked father.

“Your daughter is your responsibility Ukano. As the heir of House Lin Mai’s actions fall upon you. She has cast her lot in with my traitor brother and by default…so have you.” Azula remarked in a merciless voice with the acrobat stumbling behind her in horror.

“N-no Azula.” Ty Lee stammered weakly while she watched Azula walk forward.

“I…understand.” The nobleman agreed in a defeated voice while his daughter slumped alongside him.

“N-not my father Azula!” Mai shouted in an unusually saddened voice while Azula cast her a pitiless stare.

“House Lin must be punished for the attempt on my daughter’s life!” Yoko snarled as she stepped past her silent daughter’s while she glared at the two intimidated nobles.

“Once more you speak wisely Governor Yoko. House Lin must feel the pain that you felt yes?” Terak pondered as he moved forward while the others turned to him once more.

“They must. I will wipe every single one of them off the face of this Earth.” The governor answered in a voice even colder than the monarch’s while the acrobat trembled in horror.

“A-Azula you can’t allow the genocide of Mai’s house!” The brown-haired woman exclaimed with returning bravery while the royal woman scowled as she gazed on at the scene.

And as much as Azula hated to admit it she couldn’t deny that Ty Lee made a valid point.

“Lady Ty Lee also speaks wisely. Genocide is such a barbaric thing to stoop to. Perhaps…something else?” The chancellor purred as he glided forward while the acrobat and the monarch gazed at him in surprise.

“Vassal house will not abate me. That is an insult to the honor of my house.” Yoko declared with her white fists clenching at her shapely hips.

And once more Azula scowled as she resumed tapping her pointed boot on the floor.

Every time this infernal meeting seemed as if it was about to end it only continued on and on.

“A scarring of the face? Would that suffice Mother?” Zoe suggested with a hand at her side while her mother frowned thoughtfully.

And Ty Lee slumped as she looked as if she were about to burst into tears.

“No. It would not. I require something…less lenient.” The governor muttered as she still glared at the two terrified nobles.

The fact that Yoko openly referred the scarring of half of the face as less lenient only served to shock the acrobat into an even further state of despair.

“I concur. Vassal house is much like a slap on the wrist. Yet at the same time…House Lin is still Fire Nation. Should we not show them that House Song does not lower itself to the level of a traitor?” Terak quipped with a finger under his chin while all eyes turned to him.

“What did you have in mind Terak?” The governor queried as she turned to face the crafty official’s face.

“Y-you promised Azula.” Ty Lee reminded with a tear dripping down her cheek while Azula turned to scowl over her shoulder.

“Perchance House Lin would receive the most education from…” The chancellor trailed off as he turned to gaze upon the two captives terrified faces.

And then he gazed between the ruthless princess and the vengeful Yoko before he spoke two word with a smirk on his lips.

“Five minutes with the crocodile-shark.” Terak announced with his head tipping back while his golden eyes glimmered in delight over the unanimous shock that swept throughout the room.

“The…crocodile-shark?” Sia breathed as she spat out her drink with a noticeably pale countenance.

And just like that Azula gazed around with an inquisitive brow while she watched one soldier mutter in fright after another.

“W-what…is the crocodile-shark?” The brown-haired woman repeated with her eyes agape in dread while her lifelong friend still trembled in fear.

“I thought they went extinct.” The princess commented in a still unsympathetic voice while she turned to the governor’s suddenly pleased face.

“No. I have one in my sea cave down below.” Yoko answered as she turned away with a growing smirk on her lips.

“Wouldn’t it be more merciful if I were to simply scar one of them?” The captain suggested in a slightly concerned voice while the acrobat shook on her knees.

The fact that Zoe thought the punishment was too much spoke volumes over how extreme it must be!

Even Azula was staring at Zoe with surprise in her eyes to see her speak up for Mai.

“We must deter from future treason yes? Why not a punishment so harrowing…so terrifying that House Lin will never even consider betraying Princess Azula again? No genocide. No scars. Just five minutes down below.” The chancellor advised with a hand waving in the air at the noblewoman’s increasingly terrified face.

“P-Princess Azula! I beseech you to show mercy on my daughter.” Ukano exclaimed as he knelt on the ground while his daughter listened in rising horror.

For the briefest of moments Azula hesitated to response.

‘I can’t just let some beast tear Mai or her father apart. Elle will never forgive me. Yet I have to please House Song!’ Azula thought with a rare spark of frustration in her beautiful golden eyes.

“I assure you princess…it will purge all thoughts of Zuko from their minds. And in turn replace it with but one singular thought that Princess Azula is absolute.” Terak spoke in an urgent voice as he turned to Azula who now gazed back at him with a flicker of interest in her controlling eyes.

“A-Azula.” Ty Lee blurted out once more while Yoko waved a hand in approval.

“That is a marvelous suggestion Terak. You truly are a friend of House Song.” The governor announced in an approving voice with a smile forming upon her lips.

And for once the princess still stood with her mouth ajar in uncertainty while the chancellor nodded eagerly as he stepped forward.

“Yes. I am a loyal friend of House Song.” The chancellor agreed as he paid the acrobat’s enraged stare no mind.

“Prepare the both of them…get the cage ready. Otherwise we siege Ash City at dawn.” Yoko ordered with her arms folded over her breasts.

“Will they survive?” The princess inquired in a guarded voice while the acrobat fell back onto her posterior in horror.

“Worry not. They will endure. Of course, if you have any compunctions with it, I could always contact Fire Lord Ozai.” The governor replied in a smooth voice as she turned to the monarch’s angered face.

All the while Mai and Ukano were now being dragged off while Azula stared after them with uncharacteristic conflict in her golden eyes.

“P-please spare my daughter!” The nobleman called out in a distraught voice as he was drug down the hall.

“Do you see that Governor Yoko? It was I that set up your meeting with Governor Ukano. It was I that brought your vengeance to you. It was I that presented Princess Azula a solution that will not weaken the war effort.” Terak remarked with a smile while Ty Lee bared her teeth at his open back.

And for once Azula was taken aback by the rage in Ty Lee’s eyes.

“You bastard. I won’t forget this. I will remember this very moment.” The brown-haired woman hissed with her fist clenching in her fury.

“Well done chancellor. Zoe! Return the chancellor’s badge. He is an honorary member of House Song once more.” Yoko commanded with her hair swaying behind her while Azula now cast Terak a highly irate stare.

The acrobat sunk to her knees with fists grasping at the ground in her anger.

That’s what this was all about?

A stupid badge!

“Understood.” Zoe agreed as she opened a cabinet in the meeting chamber before she turned around to approach the pleased man.

And just like that the badge was placed in Terak’s waiting palm while he gazed down at it with delighted golden eyes.

Never even paying the princess’s cold glare any mind.

“I don’t need House Wan. I have House Song. House Wan is weak. House Wan is nothing more than a bunch of frilly identical girls. While House Song is strong. House Song is stronger than House Lin and House Wan combined! Your father Odok is weak while Governor Yoko is strong.” The chancellor boasted as he stabbed the badge into his vest while he turned around to smirk at the unusually enraged acrobat.

The princess just stared in annoyance at the back of the official’s head.

The chancellor was a fool to taunt Ty Lee.

Considering that the acrobat was more than capable of beating his ass.

“That’s rich. Coming from someone with no combat skills at all.” Ty Lee replied with her jaw clenched in her anger while Terak audibly scoffed.

“Bah! I have something greater than your combat skills. I have…a brain.” Terak responded with a huff while Ty Lee gazed at his back in boiling anger.

Only for Yoko’s terrifying voice to cut through the air.

“Chancellor Terak is right. Now shut your mouth. You have no voice here Lady Ty Lee. And I suggest you remember that Lady Mai was the one that started it by attacking my daughter’s back!” Yoko snapped as she rounded around on the once more terrified Ty Lee.

“Y-yes Governor Yoko.” The brown-haired woman muttered while she sunk back in defeat as the official quirked a smirk at her expense.

“I suggest you watch how you speak to my subordinates if you wish to maintain working relations with me Governor Yoko. And you had best be sure that they survive this beast with all of their limbs attached.” Azula ordered as she gazed over her shoulder at Yoko’s still wrathful face.

“And in turn I suggest you remember who the strongest house is Your Highness.” The governor informed to the monarch’s anger before she strode down out of the meeting room.

The chancellor soon followed after her with the remainder of the soldiers.

Leaving only the two sisters, the monarch and the distraught acrobat.

The first to break the silence was the youngest sister who was finally pushing herself out of her seat.

“Well. That was an interesting break from academy. It served as a suitable reminder why I left home in the first place.” Sia commented dryly with the enraged acrobat glaring at the back of her head.

And the princess just rolled her regal eyes when her subordinate resumed her efforts to kiss the girl’s ass.

“So, does that mean that you don’t want to go out for drinks tonight?” Zoe questioned in a voice of expecting disappointment.

“You couldn’t send one letter?” The younger sister questioned in turn with hurt in her voice while the older female flinched in renewed remorse.

“Sia.” The captain mumbled as she turned to gaze away while the younger girl headed straight for the doors.

Until the older sister soon exited through the double doors.

Leaving only the unusually conflicted princess and her distressed childhood friend.

“A-Azula? Aren’t you going to make sure that they are going to be okay?” Ty Lee questioned in a quiet voice only to cower when a furious fist seized her by the collar of her shirt.

“How dare you! You have some nerve! You hope and long for my defeat and then you whine incessantly when Mai is punished for her betrayal! What did you expect to happen when you watched her put a bomb on Zoe’s back!” Azula roared in Ty Lee’s intimidated face while the acrobat hung in her grip.

“I-I don’t hope for your defeat Azula. I just hope that you’ll learn to be…kinder.” The brown-haired woman stuttered while the royal woman glared deep into frightened eyes.

“If you don’t want to be by my side then just go back to your precious circus! I have Elle! Unlike you my servant is loyal to her master!” The princess bellowed with great anger in her eyes while guilt now flashed in the acrobat’s brown-gray eyes.

“T-that wasn’t what I was trying to say Azula.” Ty Lee murmured only to be shoved back in a chair while Azula just scowled down at her.

“Save it. At least I know I can trust the tiger monkey.” Azula grumbled before she turned away and began stomping towards the doors.

The acrobat swallowed in remorse while she watched her friend stomp through the double doors.

Only to shakily force herself to stand not a moment later.

And then she grasped her crutch while she followed after her foul tempered friend.

Elsewhere in the palace.

“What are you doing Elle?” Nako asked in a hushed voice while Elle stood peeking around the corner of a corridor.

“I am going to make sure that Mai is okay. I could have sworn that I heard screams.” Elle answered as she chewed on her lip while Nako gazed at her in disbelief.

“A-are you insane? Princess Azula said for you to stay here.” The royal pilot protested with a refusing shake of her head while the smaller girl bit her lip.

“No. Azula-sama said to stay on palace grounds.” The blonde-haired girl replied with a trace of innocent rebellion in her voice before she hurried down the hall.

All the while the panicking pilot rushed after her.

“S-she left us here because she didn’t want us in there.” Nako insisted in a panicked voice as she grasped the petite girl by the shoulder.

“Master Azula isn’t going to hurt me for taking a peek.” Elle retorted with a naïve shake of her head while Nako nearly fell over in frustration.

“Don’t you understand Elle? We’re peasants.” The royal pilot stated flatly while she crouched by the smiling teenager.

“Yep. We’re peasants.” The blonde-haired girl agreed as she adorably bit her lip while the older girl groaned in frustration.

“When royalty and nobility give peasants like us an order we obey! Because they are our rulers! We don’t snoop on our rulers!” Nako exclaimed in an increasingly fearful voice while Elle’s smile briefly gave way to a contemplative frown.

“I…don’t agree with that. Such distinctions have no meaning. We’re all the same underneath.” Elle retorted with her hands grasping the straps of her backpack while Nako stared at her with frustrated golden eyes.

“It has meaning because they say it has meaning.” The royal pilot argued only for her hand to slip off the smaller girl’s shoulder when she rounded the corner.

“Even so. I am going to go check down those stairs. You don’t have to come. I’ll go by myself and I’ll even vouch for you if Azula-sama asks where you are.” The blonde-haired girl explained over her shoulder as she hurried down a long hallway while the poor pilot stared after her in mortification.

“S-she told me to watch over you. That you were to remain under my supervision. G-get back here Elle.” Nako called out in a distressed voice while she pulled on her hair in a panic.

Only for the younger girl to ignore her cries as she watched the blonde vanish down the hallway.

The pilot could only grasp at her head while she released another distraught cry before she ran after the naïve handmaid.

All the while hoping that Princess Azula was as fond of this girl as she thought she was.

Otherwise everything that she has gained by winning the favor of her monarch will be turn into ashes.

And then Princess Azula will revoke her offer to help her village!

That thought alone was enough to prompt her to bound down the halls after the younger girl.

All the while making certain that she ducked out of sight every time a palace servant or soldier walked by.

In a deep cellar room of the immense palace protected by a see-through barrier the acrobat sat against a wall with unhidden fright in her eyes.

Azula stood with her arms folded over her breasts while she stared down with observant eyes as a cage was lowered into a wet cave below.

In the center of the dank cave was an ominous pool of water.

In the corner of the cavern behind an opening in rock a cage rattled while Mai sat with her heart racing beside her mutually terrified father.

The fact that Yoko had such a fondness for such a gruesome punishment method was all the more reason and more to be more afraid of her over Azula!

“I want them alive Governor Yoko. Is that understood?” The princess questioned in a callous voice while the older woman curtly nodded her head.

“Calm yourself Your Highness. This isn’t about death. It’s about making a statement.” The governor assured with a hand under her chin before she turned away from the monarch’s icy stare to wave her soldiers to continue.

All the while Terak watched with fascination in his eyes as a bucket of fish was dropped into an open door in the floor below.

They all observed the fish drop into the large cavern while flames lit the walls of the wet underground tunnel.

“Ten years ago, I caught it after I investigated reports of a large sea creature attacking merchant ships. I have kept it ever since…and I have fed multiple prisoners of the White Lotus to it.” Yoko remarked in an eerie voice while Azula quirked a grudgingly curious brow.

And Ty Lee found herself unable to resist staring down in trepidation.

Yet even so.

The princess still frowned as she gazed at the back of the noblewoman’s head.

‘If I allow this creature to terrorize Mai and her father it could easily cost me their loyalty!’ Azula thought as she exhaled fire through her nostrils.

Only for her golden eyes to watch closely when she caught hint of movement in the pool of water below.

Inside the cage the markswoman hung her head as she sat opposite of her silent father while they both watched the water ripple in fright.

“I…am sorry…Father.” Mai spoke with her head hanging low while she felt her father set his hand on her shoulder.

“It’s alright…a-at least we’re together.” Ukano responded with a gulp as he turned his head alongside his daughter to watch in terror as snout emerged from the water.

Within seconds the two members of House Lin stared on in terror when a truly large reptilian mouth arose from the water.

Up above even Azula stared down with widening golden eyes as she turned to Yoko with a rare incredulous look in her eyes.

“A-Azula.” Ty Lee sputtered with horror in her eyes while she trembled in terror in her seat.

And she wasn’t even down there with that beast!

“This is…overboard. Take them out.” The princess commanded only for the noblewoman to cast her a defiant glare over her shoulder.

“She threw my first born down a mine pit! And now I demand retribution! If not, I will set sail for Ash City tonight! I will burn it to the ground and wipe out every member of House Lin from the fact of this planet! Including the child! I will kill them all!” The governor shouted in a voice that was just as monstrous as the creature below.

Azula just clenched her jaw together while she watched the crocodile-shark splash out of the deep pool of water.

And the acrobat shook in fear at her feet as they gazed down at the immense creature as it slid across the cavern floor while both members of House Lin cowered in fear behind the cave opening.

“B-by Agni. I-it’s huge.” The markswoman breathed as she backed up in the cage with her heart racing in terror at the sight of the gigantic creature as it struggled to hold itself up by its pectoral fins.

Her father never said a word in response.

Not that she could blame him.

The massive creature pushed itself on its belly while it devoured the fish that the soldiers left for it in mere seconds.

All the while its ‘grinning’ gazed around only for his yellow eyes to catch sight of more prey.

“Four more minutes. If they are alive in four more minutes, I will let them out and let the insult slide.” Yoko announced as she gazed at a clock on the cellar wall.

“T-this is insane.” The brown-haired woman mumbled in a barely perceivable voice just as Ukano’s panicked cries rang into the air.

“I-it sees us.” The nobleman whimpered alongside his frightened daughter as the creature lumbered forward.

The princess still stood rigid as she glared down through the barrier with beyond aggravated golden eyes.

Only for shouts from behind her to cause her to turn her head.

“Governor Yoko! We found intruders!” A soldier yelled out while the older woman turned to gaze back at them with cold hazel eyes.

Ty Lee and Azula turned their heads only to nearly fall over when they saw a soldier holding onto Elle by the scruff of her shirt.

And not a second later Nako gulped when she too found herself under both Azula’s and Yoko’s domineering stares.

“What are you two doing here!” Azula barked with terrifying anger in her golden eyes as she rounded on the two commoners trembling faces.

“Are these your servants! They clearly need to be taught some manners!” The governor snapped as she advanced forward only for her lips to snarl when her monarch slapped her away.

“These two peasants belong to me. They are not for you to touch. I will handle their punishment.” The princess commented in a voice of absolute authority while she glared down at the two fearful girls.

And despite the acrobat’s terror over the entire situation she couldn’t help but feel slightly relieved to see her spoiled friend openly protect not only Elle but Nako as well.

“I-it wasn’t my idea p-princess. It was h-hers. You told me to stay with her so I stayed.” Nako stuttered as she scooted back against the wall while Azula rose an inquisitive brow.

Only to find herself breathing a sigh of relief when Azula turned her disciplinary eyes to Elle’s nervously smiling face.

“Naughty, naughty. Such a sneaky servant.” Terak scolded with a shake of his head only to find himself shivering when Azula’s tyrannical eyes burned through his skull.

And if it were any other time Ty Lee would have snickered at the man’s expense for how quickly he was put in his place as soon as he glanced Elle’s way.

“I told you to stay put Elle.” Azula snorted with a puff of fire escaping from her nostrils while Yoko gazed at her in bafflement.

“N-no Azula-sama. You told me to stay on the palace grounds. And to stay with Nako. You didn’t say that I couldn’t come check on Mai.” Elle murmured in a timid voice as she shifted under Azula’s incredulous stare while the much taller woman loomed over her with her fists on her womanly hips.

“Tiger monkey…” The princess growled as she tapped her boot on the floor while she glared down at the two girls much like a pet owner would if her puppies disobeyed her.

“S-sumimasen master.” The blonde-haired girl stammered alongside the sighing pilot while the royal woman still fixed her with a stern stare.

The governor and the official stared at the scene with puzzled eyes to see the ruthless Azula behaving almost fond to this little blonde peasant girl.

“Get these two servants of yours out of here or I will punish them myself.” Yoko announced in a stricter voice while she glared at Elle’s trembling form with cold hazel eyes.

“Well! What are you two waiting for! Go! I will appropriate your punishments afterward!” Azula shouted in a domineering voice while Nako stood up with Elle under her arm.

“Y-yes princess!” The royal pilot agreed with a salute while she tried to pull the younger girl away.

Only for the blonde to remain planted to her spot with her widening amber eyes gazing down below.

“W-what’s going on down there Azula-sama?” Elle questioned with worry in her eyes while Azula began dragging her out by the collar of her shirt.

“I said go Elle!” The princess yelled out only for her eyes to narrow when the markswoman’s shout rang out into the air.

Damn it all!

This was precisely what she has been trying to avoid all of this time!

“O-oneesan! She’s down there! W-why is she screaming!” The blonde-haired girl cried out after squirming her way free of her master’s furious grip.

And then she scurried forward as she ignored the shouts of both her master and big sister.

“Elle! No!” Ty Lee called out as she watched in unbridled rage when Elle dropped through the trap door without hesitation.

“Is that girl suicidal?” The chancellor asked with tremendous confusion in his voice while the teenager shakily slid down the rope below.

“Bring that cage up right now.” Azula demanded in a far more furious voice than before while Yoko scowled back at her.

“Three more minutes.” The governor answered in a steely voice while the monarch’s eyes narrowed into slits.

And the acrobat couldn’t help but stare at the governor as she waited for the moment when her friend would begin brutalizing her.

The crocodile-shark tried to push its snout into the small opening where the cage sat.

While Mai and her father sat as far back as it could go with their eyes agape in pure terror.

Only to find themselves jumping in startlement when they heard the water splash behind them.

The two were completely taken by surprise to find themselves gazing at the young girl’s worried face.

And the markswoman sunk back into the cage wall with her worried tawny eyes softening at the sight of the soaked teenager gazing back at her.

“E-Elle! Get out of here!” Mai ordered while she watched Elle begin futilely fighting with the cage door.

“Y-you know this girl?” Ukano asked in bewilderment while Elle hurriedly shoved a small pick into the lock.

“N-no way! I won’t leave you behind oneesan!” Elle exclaimed with her trembling hand fumbling at the lock while the snout slammed into the crevice once more.

“Oneesan?” The nobleman queried with his terrified eyes gazing between the young girl and the sea beast.

“It…means big sister.” The markswoman muttered with gratitude in her voice while her father stared at the girl in shock.

‘How many times now? How many times has Elle saved my life?’ Mai thought with bottomless appreciation in her eyes.

“You…adopted her?” Ukano whispered in a taken aback voice while he observed his daughter nod without hesitation.

“I did.” The markswoman replied with a small smile that soon vanished as soon as she watched the creature’s maw slide through the crack.

All the while Ty Lee’s voice rang out from above while Elle hurriedly struggled with the lock.

“E-Elle!” The brown-haired woman shouted in a fraught voice while the teenager knelt in the puddle of water.

And the head of House Lin could only stare at the girl in disbelief that she was willing to thoughtlessly risk her life for his daughter.

“Get out of here kid! Just do as I say!” Mai commanded in a stern voice only for her eyes to widen in horror when the long mouth slid into the opening.

“A-and I said no! Eek!” The blonde-haired girl yelped in startlement as she turned over her shoulder only for her eyes to widen in terror when she found herself gazing into large yellow eyes.

Within seconds the pick dropped from her hand while Mai and her father shouted in alarm when the crocodile-sharks jaws nearly swallowed the girl whole.

The teenager released a cry of fright as she fell back with her backpack slamming into the cave wall.

“Elle!” The markswoman bellowed in a horrified voice while she frantically grasped a hold of the lock pick.

And then she slid her hands through the bars while she began fighting with the lock.

All the while watching Elle back up in the water with a hand over her chest just as the jaws slammed down over her once more.

The small girl recoiled with her eyes wide in fright only to release a pained cry another moment later as she held her hand to her bandaged chest.

Large yellow eyes gazed back at her paling face before the creature lunged forward once more.

All the while both Mai and Ukano shouts for her safety rang into the air.

And then…

Snap!

And soon after that a radiant flash of white light blinded everyone above and below.

[amusedyan]

I'm loving your blog. So listen, I'd die for some Ouran content. Maybe a Kyoya falling for a guest at some Ootori party, she was brought along by some wealthy friend of hers and is not into the wealthy elite at all, something that bothers but intrigues Kyoya. I'd love to see him try to woo her, become protective of her, because she lives such a dangerous regular commoners life without body guards. Then try to save her from that life. How would he react to her misbehaving or being generally 1/2

Unhappy with the situation he’s put her in? Whether it’s him micromanaging every aspect of her life or him having actually locked her up in some corner of the Ootori manor? Personally, I always saw Kyoya as someone who enjoyed old-fashioned punishments. Like a spanking over the knee. But it’s totally up to you. I love where you took that Bakugo fic, so I trust you to take this where ever. Honestly, I’d just be so grateful if you had any Ouran content to offer. Again, love your work so far 2/2

Yay my first Ouran request! Thanks so much nonnie for requesting this, I love Kyoya- his deadpan humor and general attitude just give me so many ideas and make him such a great character! And those same traits make him terrifying as a yandere!

Bitter

You hated fancy parties.

You picked at your collar and tried not to look like you were bored out of your mind as all the rich people mingled and laughed discussed business over food and drinks more expensive than your family’s monthly grocery bill. 

It was funny. You could write off your friend’s eccentric behavior, but in a group of rich people? Well, the bitterness crept back in and left a sour tang in your mouth. 

You glanced down at your flute of champagne. It would be, what, your third? Reluctantly you returned it- you were a guest, getting blackout drunk was not on your shortlist of ‘great ideas for parties full of rich people’. So you just mingled politely, staying close to your friend.

“Mr. Ootori!” She declared happily, waving over a dark haired man with a calm smile and glasses. There’s half a moment of hesitation on his part before he approaches- you can’t blame him; a brief word with your friend turns into half an hour with her.

“Glad you could make it,” he offered dutifully, and oh that was interesting- he had that same look in his eyes you did- like he couldn’t stand his own kind. It had to be some kind of joke.

You found yourself smiling for the first time that night, and caught the way his eyes flashed at you for the briefest of seconds before it was gone.

Maybe you’d imagined it.

“I see you’ve made use of the plus one on your invitation.” He remarked, and your friend laughed and introduced you.

Ootori nodded and looked back at you with a raised eyebrow, “I don’t believe I’ve heard of you.” His tone was just detached enough that you couldn’t be sure if it was a joke or an insult.

“You wouldn’t- I’m not pedigreed.” You wished you could take a drink as a mic drop. Instead you just had to content yourself with your friend’s horrified look.

But Ootori just looked amused.

“Man people prefer mutts to purebreds,” he said in that same level tone.

As a person who’d had several mutts growing up, you could confirm that they were better. Less health problems. 

He asked what your job was and you mentioned the field, notwanting to stray into talk about work. Work was work, and frankly here wasn’tthe place to talk about it. Thankfully Ootori accepted it and didn’t push,instead managing to draw you into aconversation that didn’t make you want to beat your own head in. It was nice.

Finally, he had to excuse himself and see to his otherduties as host, but before he left he caught your hand and brought it up to pressa gentle kiss there. It stopped you short, as did the small smile playing onhis lips.

“Until we meet again,” he promised cryptically, before goingoff to join his people.

Your friend was gawking at you.

You decided maybe one more glass of champagne wouldn’t hurtyou.

Two weeks after the Ootori party Kyoya Ootori himself walkedinto your favorite coffee shop, saw you and invited himself to sit at yourtable after taking his order. The man was far out of his element but didn’tseem in the least bit uncomfortable, exuding a calm confidence and sense ofcontrol that made clear why he was so good at his job.

(And yeah, you had gone the creepy route and looked him upon the internet, rather than just asking your friend; they might have gone toschool together once upon a time but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t misreadyour questions as interest and let him know about it on a lark.

Despite being the youngest Kyoya had managed to earn hisplace as heir of Ootori conglomerate. He was ruthless in business but one hellof philanthropist, setting up multiple scholarship programs for elite schoolsthat lower income students wouldn’t have access to, on top of the dozens ofother charities that the company donated to on the regular. And that was whatyou could track down in maybe 45 minutes)

“Pretty far from your side of town,” you observed, addinganother packet of sugar to your coffee.

“I had business in the area and needed a coffee.” You hummed and watched him watch you.

He was quiet for a minute and you took the time to drink your coffee. His was pure black, you’d heard him order it.

“You remind me of a friend I had.” He said suddenly, and you stayed quiet, although you were a little confused because he didn’t seem like the type to have friends. “She wasn’t impressed by money either.”

“Smart of her.”

He chuckled a little bit, no more than a huff. 

“I’d like to take you out for dinner sometime.” Now that actually made you look at him properly. He hadn’t taken his eyes off you yet.

“Because I’m not interested in money?”

“Because I find your conversation relaxing and I’d like to think you feel the same way.”

It was a bit weird; you’d had maybe 20 minutes total of talking with this man. Technically those twenty minutes were enjoyable. Kyoya was blunt and composed and intelligent; you could appreciate that in a man.

“Alright.” You agreed, surprising yourself.

Kyoya’s smile unfolded into something a little more open. You wondered how often people saw this one.

You exchanged numbers and the promise of detail exchange later; you had to get back to work soon, and even though he didn’t say he needed to leave you were sure that he needed to get back too.

There were flowers on your desk at work the next day.

The bouquet was gorgeous; lavender roses and baby’s breath- you didn’t even know that lavender roses this nice were in season.

The card on the vase (a very nice, very expensive looking vase) confirmed your suspicions.

I saw these and thought of you.

                                          -Ootori Kyoya

And you smiled because it was really thoughtful.

But…how did he know where you worked?

Ootori: Did you receive the flowers?

Me: Yes I did! They’re beautiful, thanks!

Me: How did you know where I worked?

Ootori: You told me at the party, remember?

Me: Ah, sorry, I must have forgotten!

Me: Thanks again, Ootori.

Ootori: Call me Kyoya, please.

You work out a good night for the both of you to go out. It took some shuffling on your part, but at least Kyoya seemed willing to work with you.

He meant what he said at least- he was serious about dinner.

And it was dinner at a really nice restaurant; one that had a really long wait list ordinarily and didn’t have a price on the menu.

Well, you get to break out your formal clothes again, and it was nice to watch the way Kyoya’s expression changed when you entered the dining area. The softening of his mask maybe. 

“You look nice.” Was all he said about it, though, even as he stood up to pull out your chair for you.

“Thanks, so do you.” And he did. Kyoya could have worn anything and pulled it off, probably.

The server came by moments later with wine and glasses. That was nice at least, but again…

“You ordered for me?” You asked, smiling. He nodded.

“I thought it more convenient.” 

Pushy, but whatever, he meant well.

Except…

The pushing didn’t stop.

It started with the wine, yeah, but it just got worse.

Kyoya didn’t understand how to not overstep his bounds, and he always looked amused when you started to point out that looking up your girlfriend’s home address was still creepy, even when the intent was to send you flowers. And he sent you a lot of flowers.

But no, Kyoya, having several bodyguards walk you home from work didn’t make you feel safe, especially when they weren’t allowed to talk to you.

And he just…he didn’t get it.

You wanted to break up with him, but the problem was Kyoya, when he wasn’t disrespecting your boundaries at least, was charming, intelligent, and honestly you liked him a lot. You just figured it was one of those things you would work out with him, or maybe it was new relationship jitters.

When Kyoya tried to give you a watch more expensive than your apartment, you finally, firmly, put your foot down.

“It’s too expensive,” you argued firmly.

“I already bought it.”

“Then return it, because I can’t possibly accept it.” It made you uncomfortable, how willing he was to drop so much money on you so fast.

“I can’t return it, it was personalized.” He said, frowning. And…okay, touching, but still…

You turned it over in your hand and blinked at the elegant writing

For my darling

“That’s…really sweet, Kyoya.”

He hugged you gently, awkwardly. You got the feeling he wasn’t used to initiating, but that was fine.

“I just want you to have the best.”

“I know.”

(Your first time with Kyoya is…wonderful. He worships you and breaks you apart gently and puts you back together with his touch. The whole time he looks at you like he’s having a religious experience, doesn’t break eye contact, doesn’t close his eyes.

For a minute you could have sworn he was crying)

Kyoya started inviting you to parties and events with him three months into your relationship.

The idle speculation and blank smiles from your time as a normal guest were gone, replaced with biting comments and passive aggression. It sucks, but it gave you an excuse to stay with Kyoya, and he didn’t seem to mind. 

It was nice though, watching that dark look flash in his eyes when someone made a comment.

But he kept your hand in his and doted on you in his own way all evening.

You split away from him, briefly, to use the bathroom and check how you looked in the mirror. Not a hair was out of place and you didn’t look a thing like yourself.

On your way back, not 10 feet from your boyfriend, a guest flush with bourbon and bolstered by his friends inquired “how much the Ootori runt paid for you” because he’d “pay double”. You flushed with rage, but before you could get a word out Kyoya was the one to appear and drag you out of his sight.

“I could have handled it, Kyoya.” You promised, but he shook his head.He didn’t stop, handing over the tickets to get your coats. “The party isn’t over yet, don’t you still have business-”

“They don’t deserve to look at you,” he snarled, and it was with a vehemence you never would have expected from him, it startled you so bad.

“Kyoya-”

“No. We’re going home and they’re never going to see you again.”

Oh.

You took your coat, quiet, letting Kyoya guide you to his car and opened it for you, sliding into the backseat with you.

“Are you ashamed of me?” You asked quietly, watching him roll up the tinted divider between you and the driver.

Are you going to leave me? Went unasked. That fear just…it crippled you. He wouldn’t, would he? Just because his associates didn’t like you?

“Never.” He promised firmly, pulling you into his lap. You hesitated but moved to assist, curling up against him. “I would never be ashamed of you. You’re mine.” And those words were so cold, despite the warm look in his eyes.

“But you said-”

“They’ll never set eyes on you again because they don’t deserve to look at you. I’m going to take you home and you’re going to stay there where I can keep you safe and away from their filthy eyes. Alright, darling?”

His lips were on your neck, his whisper made your bones warm. But you shook your head no.

“Kyoya, it’s fine, people are going to be rude-”

“They don’t have a right to be that way to you, not when you’re mine.”

You laughed a little, trying to diffuse the tension, squirming, trying to get off his lap. Kyoya’s arms were iron around you though, holding you tight, so tight you couldn’t breathe.

“Let go of me, Kyoya,”

“No, we’re going home and I’m going to show you how much you’re worth.”

“As romantic as that sounds, I really have to get back to my place-”

Kyoya’s grip on your jaw was punishing, his nails digging in and bruising you for for sure. 

“Shut up.”

“Kyoya-”

He kissed you harsh, it was biting and angry and you were sure that you tasted blood.

“You are mine. I’ve let you wander long enough, so be quiet and be good and everything will be fine. If you don’t then I will have to hurt you, do you understand?” When you didn’t answer right away he shook you. 

“Understand?”

[thegodlessqueen]

GHOST - MOTHERS HC

I wanted to pause the request just to work on something that was on my mind for a while now, here it is, I hope you guys enjoy it :D

Serena - 

As the oldest still-living member of the church after Nihil and Imperator, Emeritus the first was a vault of knowledge and experience,  so it wasn't uncommon for the younger members of the church to sit around him at night in one of the halls, ask him questions and listen to him telling stories. That particular summer night, they where talking about the family tree, about Nihil's papacy, and the ones who came before him, and all the previous leaders of the church, Emeritus could name them all and talk about them with perfect accuracy, however, it wasn't long before some of them started to notice the obvious lack of female presence in the family history.

''What about your mom?'

' a small voice asked innocently from between the group, presumably the youngest sibling of sin that was present, and so the room suddenly flooded with silence.

''...Forgive me, my child?'' the papa raised a brow, totally unprepared for that question.

''Papa do you remember your mom?'' the little girl asked again. The anxiety of the small crowd was palpable as Emeritus got quiet, shut his eyes, calmly closed his book, took his glasses off and when he looked up, his mismatched eyes were shining in that youthful way that a few only got to see back in the day that his younger brother was born.  

''Yes child...'' he smiled. ''How could I forget her?''

''With all due respect your unholiness...Can you tell us about her?'' finally another asked, while all the others lean closer almost dying to know more. ''We have heard so much about all the patriarchs of the church but... it would be interesting to know about a matriarch...''

''Yes, of course...'' he answered politely.

''Mia Madre name was Serena... I can tell you so much about her...'' his ancient voice acquired a melancholic tone as the memories flooded his mind, he looked at the stars through the stained glass, with the purest of the smiles on his face.''Should I tell you about... the reddish brown tone of her hair...? the smell of her perfume? I remember everything, the color of her wings and the sound of her voice... it's been so long since I last saw her... so long, I was just a child back then, not too different from any of you...  still, she's the only thing that I remember with pristine clearness about my childhood, maybe that's what she meant when she told me that a part of her will always be with me.... A mother's love is a powerful force...

''Was she like you...?''

''Oh no! I only got her wings.'' he chuckled.

''I'm nothing like her, I grow to become an old, bitter man and she was sweetest women I ever met, she taught me everything that I know...  how to read the positions of the moon, how to listen to the voices in the wind, how to see dark prophetic truths in the fire... she watched over me while I devoured book after book in the library... she often asked me to read for her, those afternoons in the library... I never wanted them to end...

''...Did she died...?'' another asked, suddenly his smile disappeared, and he looked down to the book in his hands, the fire of the candle trembling in reflection on his eyes.

''...I do not know...'' For a second nobody said anything until the elder spoke again. ''My brothers and I... we were separated from our mothers early in our youth when they considered that the time was right to leave... My mother... it's not like father forced her to do so, it was her nature, she just... packed up their things one night, kiss me goodbye and left with the sunrise... father refuses to tell me where... she was no creature from this world, so I guess she went back to where she belonged? Whatever the case... I know that she loved me... and I hope that she knew that I loved her with every fiber of my heart, even to this day...''

''...Do you miss her...?'' ''Inmensly...'' 

Integra-

Party night and the church was celebrating a twisted version of the ''all saint's day'' celebrating the births and deaths of many important figures that played a role in the birth and evolution of the congregation, it was a night full of food and drinks, people, where dancing and the music made the chandeliers on the roof clink with joy. A small group of young half-drunk priests, led by Emeritus the second, soon to be pope at the time, retire to one of the balconies to drink and chat and have a good laugh without the judging eyes of Nihil and other high members of the clergy on them. 

''What about you Emeritus, tell us about your mom! was she pretty?'' one of the young clergymen asked, almost spilling his cup of wine.

''Nine hells, my mom?'' he meditated about it, it had been a while since the last time he thought about her. ''Nah she was pretty but I don't think you would have wanted to have a chance with her... She was...difficult.''

'’What?'' he asked. ''what is that even supposed to mean?'' the others laugh. ''Pfff I don't know.'' he shrugged.  ''I don't remember much of her, but my mother was a stoic, indifferent, ruthless woman! that's all I can tell...'' he said swallowing what was left in his cup.

''Family drama!'' one of them exclaimed.

''Very funny!'' he said sarcastically.

''Come on Emeritus, tell us more!'' the half-drunken group of men started to ask. ''Tell us about her, did Nihil cheated on her? bet you got your charming personality from her!''

''...You know what? You are right.'' he chuckled. ''Forget Nihil you can blame her for that, that's everything I took from her.''

''Knew it!'' one of them cheered, the others started laughing, they never saw the young papa so relaxed before, just joking around with a bunch of drunk guys, regardless of the joyful atmosphere in the room, things were bound to take a turn soon. 

''Oh yes, my mother was a cold bitch...''  he snarled in the most stone-cold tone, maybe the alcohol was taking a toll on his sense of awareness, suddenly everyone got quiet and looked at each other as they put the cups down, that raw quote just killed the whole mood in one second, what the hell did just happened?

''You see...'' he began to talk. ''Integra, mia Madre, wasn't particularly sympathetic towards me... towards anyone, honestly. I don't remember her hugging me, or kissing me, or saying any kind words to me... well, maybe that one time... ‘’That time?’’ ‘’Irrelevant, everything that came out of her mouth was orders and lectures and ''do this, do that, go to sleep'' and so on just to keep me on track, maybe an occasional ''good job'', but I never heard her saying that she was proud of me or that she loved me... 

''Did she... mistreated you?'' one asked cautiously. 

''Nine hells of course not!'' he almost grunted to the young men. ''She wasn't cruel to me she was just...! emotionally detached to me... it's not like she hated me... I hope she didn't... I think she came here to do one job, and when it was done she left, and I never saw her again''

''...We are sorry, your unholiness, we shouldn't be asking such...'' ''Why?'' he interrupted. ''I'm not. She taught me the most valuable lesson in my life, that if you have a responsibility you get it done, regardless of the cost...'' 

''...Do you hate her...?'' one asked, feeling the emotional weight of the situation and not wanting to show himself as weak before his comrades, the papa just stood up, walking towards the door with a clear intention to leave. 

''Dude please, we are sorry, let’s have fun...'' one tried to stop him. ''...Do you miss her at least?'' 

''It doesn't matter, not anymore...'' 

''...Why not?'' he stopped at the door and looked back at the group, with that angry 1000 mile stare perpetually nailed in his eyes. ''Because I can't even remember her face.''

Victoria-

''So what about your mother?'' the sister of sin asked, helping the young papa to pile up the mess of unread books and unsigned paperwork, while cheerfully conversating about family stories and funny things that happened many years ago. 

''Mia Madre?'' he asked with a puzzled look. ''What about her?

''Do you have any cool stories about her too?''

''Oh, I wish.'' he answered in a strange, kind of sad tone, quite unfamiliar coming from the youngest of the Emeritus, who was probably the most joyful of them all. ''...What's wrong?'' the sister asked noticing the look on his face.

''It happens that, most of what I know comes from what my brothers have told me, but my mother left when I was very, very young, so almost everything of what I remember about her are just vague memories... maybe even dreams... I'm not sure if it really happened, if she really existed, my father doesn't like to talk about her.''

''Oh... mind if I ask? What did your older brothers tell you?''

''That she was an intense, passionate woman. ''A lioness!'' father told me, quite overprotective too from what I heard, she used to growl to anyone who got too close to me. 

''She sounds like quite a charming women.'' she smiled when she saw the face of the third Emeritus light up. 

''She was!'' he exclaimed, like if some memories just popped up to the top of his mind. ''And quite beautiful too! she used to take me to the garden to pick up roses and...'' he suddenly stopped, staring at some random spot on the floor. ''It's so strange...''

''What?''

''Every time i think about her... I feel so loved... I have this impression that she really loved me you know? and I feel like back in those days, I really loved her too... but now I feel so empty...’’

''Do you know where she is? would you like to see her again?'’

''I don't know... but, wherever she is, I hope that she's happy and that she knows that I think about her... I do hope to see her again, to get to know the mother that I never had...'' I really wanted to make a HC about the mother/s of the emeritus, there is absolutely no information about her/them in the fandom, but I got this HC about them being actually demons that are summoned to give birth to them, raise them for the first years of their lives, and eventually leave when they are old enough, i picture them as these mysterious ladies with crowns and veils covering their faces, for Serena raising Emeritus I was an honor, for Integra raising Emeritus II was a duty, and for Victoria raising Emeritus III was a blessing. Some close-ups under the cur because tumblr blurs everything that i upload >:’D

which one is your favorite? ;)

[sovinly]

Nirvana in Fire, space AU!

Thank you, darling! So predictably I came up with so much worldbuilding and then got sidetracked into feelings about cyborg Xuanjing Bureau agents and DNA-rewriting magical plot devices and people having feelings about being human and loving other people, so now it’s just A Lot of Feelings about Xia Dong and Nie Feng, who deserve the HAPPIEST ENDING. It is also very full of spoilers.

----

Xia Dong is very young when they install the augmentingimplants in her, but old enough to remember it.

She is very proud, of course, to be doing her duty, but shetries not to recall those first few hazy-not-hazy weeks. To see and hear somuch more, to be aware of so much more, for her brain to be able to process somany things that it hadn’t before. Her bones and flesh are made more durable,her tongue now heavy with a hundred dialects, her fingertips conceal imperialseals that spill the secrets of any electronic device in the vast empire of DaLiang.

Xia Dong, faster, smarter, sharper, inhuman, is an instrument of the Xuanjing Bureau, and herheart is very still behind the blankness of her face. She is loyal down tonerves and neurons, and her teacher is everything. Da Liang is everything.

When she reaches her majority,she is given weightier assignments, trusted with the secret things needed torun a kingdom of a hundred planets. She is given, one turn of Jinling’s manymoons, responsibilities with the young members of the Imperial Family, adjacentto the Chiyan Fleet.

Nie Feng is handsome – long dark hair tied up with anexacting proper neatness, dark brown eyes brimming with conviction, veryelegant hands lined with combat scars – and very kind. He is sharp, too, awhirlwind of strategy and sword, but very easy with his commander’s son andassorted young relatives.

He smiles like a thousand stars whenever he sees Xia Dong,and speaks to her about weather and security features with the same confidentease.

Xia Dong loves him. She loves him as the river cutting pastthe Imperial City, as Mount Gu in its illustrious heights, as the cut of herhidden blades and precise lines of code.

There is room in her heart for him, beside the encyclopediaof poisons, the endless lines of regulations, the whip-quick dire decisions shemust make every day.

Xia Dong wants a home lined with tapestries, with a shrine.She wants a kitchen, where they can fumble their way through food that isn’tmilitary rationing. She wants breezy curtains by open windows, and to liebeside Nie Feng at night, his hands unflinching on her strange skin.

She tells him, breathless, that she loves him. That she wouldbe loyal to him.

He would never ask her to be less unnerving for him, thoughshe would, and she loves him for that even more.

She loves him, and he loves her.

They marry on an auspicious dayin the summer, and Xia Dong is full of joy.

----

Nie Feng is dead.

His grave on the tall sides of Mount Gu holds half hisremains.

The other half are lost half a system away, on the lonelyghost moon of Meiling, a cold burned out husk of betrayal.

It is winter, winter, winter,and Xia Dong is cold through.

----

Grief doesn’t fade, has burned itself permanently into hercircuits and synapses.

It’s a storm that rages for over a decade, though she hasnever let it twist her face.

Xia Dong falls back on her work like subroutines. She triesto make herself harsher, sharper, more unnaturally ruthless, something evenmore inexplicable to the members of the court.

She loves Nihuang who is sad at her own losses rather thandisloyalty, and she burns at Jingyan who is contemptuous of Xia Dong’s loss,and wishes that she didn’t care for either of them. She loves Xiao Jingrui andYan Yujin, and resents them for caring for one another so freely.

Xia Qiu watches her with steady eyes, and never says thatperhaps this is better, that perhaps she is lucky that her husband is deadrather than a traitor, that perhaps she needs have no feelings for anything atall. But he thinks it, she is uncharitably sure.

Xia Dong is a weapon, must be a weapon, a blade sharp enoughto dismember any who would misuse her. All that is left to her is loyalty andgrief.

Perhaps if she could bring up that wall between herself andher work enough times, she could cut herself off from grief. But losing griefwould be losing Nie Feng a final time, and Xia Dong cannot bear to lose himagain.

There are whispers, on Jinling and across all of Da Liang,that the Xuanjing Bureau agents are fully artificial, computers given form,without remorse or mercy or kindness.

Some days, Xia Dong wishes she were not a person, had neverbeen a person, were only electricity and anger.

But the augmented implants in her mean that each memory ofNie Feng’s smile is as bright as the day he gave them. The weight of his eyes.The touch of his hand, holding hers as something sturdy and precious both. Thefall of his hair let down to be brushed, dark as ink, as the void between thestars.

Xia Dong drinks them, bitter andsweet as they are, and pours out wine at his grave when Jinling turns to facethe sun again.

 ----

Nie Feng is not dead.

 ----

He is covered in fur white as star-centers, shouldershunched in with years of loneliness, and his tongue chokes helplessly on hername. His DNA is as rewritten and altered into something unfamiliar. It shouldbe no wonder that others thought him alien.

And yet, his eyes are the same – Xia Dong remembers themvery clearly. Her blank wall mask cracks, and tears well in her eyes likeblood.

Xia Dong has spent this much time making herself strange andapart, that it startles her to see his eyes as full of grief and longing andwater as her own.

And his mask breaks too, and her beloved husband curls intohimself, away from her. His hands cover his face, overcome.

It takes her steady, careful strength to pull them away, ascareful and insistently as she has ever done anything. He is alive, and yethides from her the way she had once thought to hide from him, shy andunfamiliar with being wanted.

A hundred dialects in her mind, and the hardest and easiestthing in the world to speak to him.

“You finally came home,” Xia Dong says, cracked-voiced, andif the feel and color of his hair is not the same, the way he leans into hertouch is familiar as the day he left her. She loves him, still, as she hasnever loved anything.

“I am not a person,” Nie Feng says with faltering hands,looking at her and away, sunblind. “Not now.”

He loves her, still, she knows, has not forgotten the lookof it in his face and his hands and the line of his body.

“You came back to me,” Xia Dong says, fierce and sure, herheart blooming with the empty home she had given up years ago, with all thethousand pains of the last two years, with desires that have been buried solong she half-convinced herself they were disabled. She loves him. “My husband.”

Nie Feng wavers, but if his memory is not hers, it is goodenough to recall the early days of their marriage, those days when she cameback from bureau work. He must recall murmuring into the ear of the empire’sblunt instrument, “my wife,” as though eight times repetition made her boththings.

“My husband,” Xia Dong repeats, and wipes the tears from hisface. Her own spill heedless over her cheeks, and she will not check them, doesnot know how to give voice to her happiness otherwise.

“You,” his hands say, like the gesture is precious, and NieFeng raises trembling hands to her face, and his eyes hold a thousand stars.

[orionwhispers]

Devil Like Me - Part XVI

(A/N - Forgive me friends. It’s been far too long. My mental and physical health has been in the worst state its ever been and life really got in the way. I tried to take a hiatus and almost swore of writing as a whole but you know what? It really fucking helps and I love it. I know how long you guys have waited and Im sorry I'm such an asshole, please enjoy this VERY late christmas present. I love you all. Please please please don’t forget to tell me what you think it means the world to me, my ask is always open xoxo) - also sorry if there are any mistakes I'm half asleep and a whole ass mess. love you forevs)

Then

Klaus’ hands are so tight around his steering wheel his knuckles start to turn white; mirroring the moon that follows overhead. His teeth are gritted, the vein in his throat pulsating and his breath quickening. He only calms down when his eyes flit to the rearview mirror, pupils slowing over the figure slumped in the backseat, waiting and watching for any sign of movement. He’s never been one to control his anger, the thousands of people he’s killed speak for themselves, his hands coated in more blood than a butcher, but one look at you makes his undead heart stop.

Bruises the colour of blooming violets and roses litter the delicate skin around your neck, your leg is oddly contorted and swollen, and there are gashes and wounds scarring your body. Technically, your heart stopped beating a few moments after you made contact with the ground, but he can still smell the dried blood tainting your injuries, as tantalisingly delicious as summer berries. The hybrid side of him, the animalistic, carnivorous side of him longs to tear his fangs into your flesh and drain you of blood like its cherry wine, but he knows he never will.

Once upon a time, nothing would have stopped him. The very first time he laid eyes on you, you should have been dead instantly, nothing more than a midnight snack as he made his way out of town, but it wasn’t that simple. Something changed in him that night, somehow as you made your way towards him under the cover of moonlight, trying to be brave despite cowering in fear, he felt something for the first time in a long time. That made him want to kill you even more, he despised not being in control, but he couldn’t bring himself to hurt you.

Now here you both were.

He had turned hundreds of people in the centuries he had lived, and not once had he cared if they made it through the transition. They were completely dispensable, he fed them his blood and turned them solely for his own personal gain, nothing more. They were nothing but pawns to him, alliances in cities all over the world, minions forever at his beck and call.

He had never felt red hot anxiety prickling under his skin as he waited impatiently for signs that you had awoke, never felt panic and bile in his throat at what might happen if you didn’t. All of these feelings were foreign and unwelcome, he despised not being in control, it made him feel powerless and weak, all things he knew he wasn’t. He gritted his teeth so hard he thought they might break as he continued down the empty country roads, the car bumping and tearing along the gravel. He felt fury like he had never felt before, rage that bubbled inside him like lava, threatening to spew over.

He had killed the witch he reminded himself, torn her head from her spine and watched her blood stain the oak floor. She was gone for good, ordering his inferiors to burn her body in the woods ensuring she would never come back. None of that diminished the hatred in his head though, he had been reckless and stupid, he should have killed her the very first chance he got. He was so sure he could have protected you, but his feelings for you made you vulnerable and he had almost lost you due to his own greed.

He would never come that close again.

He looked up to the mirror once again, and immediately calmed at the sight of you, his whole body relaxing like waves smoothing onto the shore. He would never let anything happen to you.  A feeling washed over him, one that had been rising in his insides since the very first day he met you, it was like his overprotective nature towards his siblings, but heightened. You two were bound, something had drawn him to you, something inside you had unlocked his emotions again, and it was euphoric.

He glanced at you, the curve of your bitten lips, the arch of your nose and the shadow of your eyelashes cast onto your battered cheek. He didn’t believe in God, or fate or destiny, but he believed in you. You were his and he was yours. That was all the faith he needed. His blood was the thing keeping you alive, coursing through your body, making you sired to him. Maybe it was wrong, he knew that vampirism was a curse, that you hadn’t been able to make the choice for yourself, but this way you had an eternity together. Whatever you wanted, anything you desired, he would get for you. He wanted to take you to places in the world, bring you to his favourite hidden spots and secret escapes, show you culture, art, museums, spend evenings under candlelight and mornings with sun bathing your tangled limbs. He wanted it all, and he wanted it with you, only you.

He made a vow that night, as the car bounced across dusty roads, raindrops splattering along the windshield. He made a vow that, no matter what, he would never let you regret turning that night, he would give you the world and more. He knew he would get it wrong sometimes, he was possessive, easily jealous and sensitive. He could be argumentative, violent and overprotective, but he would never take it out on you. He would help you through the transition, be by your side through anything, because as he drove further into the night, he realised how much you meant to him and what the feeling taking over him was… Love.

Now

You sat on your haunches, cradling your knees with your arms and peering out of the large bay windows watching the sky change with every passing minute. It had been a couple of days since the prank night and the first successful hybrid transformation, but you were feeling less than celebratory.

Klaus’ happiness was infectious. It always had been, his wide toothy grin and contagious laugh always made your insides light up like a furnace. Klaus had a reputation, he was the most powerful being on the planet, and he made sure everyone was aware of that. Speaking his name alone was enough to make even the most impressive of vampires cower with fear. You were one of the lucky few that had seen the other side of him, whilst you were familiar with his ruthless, barbaric and ferocious ways you were blessed to see the side that was hidden from most.

He was without a doubt the funniest person you had ever met, always able to make you crack a smile no matter how down you were feeling. He was playful and flirtatious, whispering teasing words into you neck when you both attended lavish dinner parties, making you blush and giggle into your palm. Mornings in bed were filled with lighthearted banter and funny anecdotes of his past, and he always had a witty comeback whenever you were feeling argumentative. You had never met anyone like him and you knew no one could ever possibly compare.

That’s why it was so bittersweet to see him radiating with happiness. Even though you would never fully understand it, you knew that creating successful hybrids meant the world to Klaus and whilst you were pleased at his victory, you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. It was clawing deep inside your gut, the feeling that something much bigger was going on, and you were both in the centre of it. Despite the animosity between the both of you, he was unable to stay away when he was so ecstatic, because you were the only one he wanted to share good news with.

The night everything happened and you all returned to the mansion to a bewildered Elijah and Kol, Klaus was practically bouncing off the walls with glee. You slunk in behind him with Rebekah, still on edge from the evenings events but more so from the uneasy butterflies in your stomach. On the car ride over, Klaus had opened the door for you and made you sit shotgun, he spoke loudly and animatedly into the phone to someone, beaming with pride as he discussed future plans.

As he finished the call and smiled widely, he reached for the gearstick before casually reaching over and placing his hand atop yours and squeezing your palm; making you instantly freeze. The touch lasted merely a few seconds but sent electricity through your whole body, his large thumb stroked over the delicate skin on the back of your hand and then he returned it to the steering wheel, placing another call as if it was nothing. You were sat unmoving, your mind racing and heart pounding at his sudden display of affection, nervous but still yearning for his touch, you didn’t know how to react and glanced up at the rearview mirror, catching sight of a gobsmacked Rebekah staring back with large eyes.

“Where have you all been?” Elijah asked, placing down his book and uncrossing his legs from his spot on the armchair.

“We’re celebrating, brother!” Klaus replied with a grin, reaching over to the bar and rummaging around the bottles of liquor, grabbing something dark and bitter looking.

Kol smirked, leaping over the cream coloured sofa and grabbing his own bottle, uncapping it and taking a swig, grinning at the taste. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

“Celebrating?” Elijah asked, shooting you a look, you shrugged exasperatedly, offering a wan smile of support as Rebekah linked her arm with yours and pulled you towards the fireplace, a bottle of wine in her arms and a knowing smirk on her perfect pink lips.

“We made history tonight, Elijah! Call up everyone you know, they’re going to want to be a part of this.” He held his drink above his head, a large smile on his beautiful face, practically illuminating the room with his happiness. He glanced around the room, nodding at each of the people gathered in it, finally settling on you. He placed the neck of the bottle to his lips, pausing as he said, `’To us.” He threw his head back and drank, and you could feel everyones eyes on you, burning holes into your head, you swallowed thickly and grabbed the bottle from Rebekah and took a long swig, relishing in the burning feeling at the back of your throat.

It was going to be a long night.

———————————————————

An hour or two passed, you were sat in the enormous kitchen, perched on a barstool away from the crowds, watching the party unfold around you. Klaus and his siblings must have called every witch, vampire and werewolf they knew in an 100 mile radius; as the house was practically heaving with people. Your glass was empty, and you ran a finger over the rim as you watched the guests fawn and gush over Klaus, congratulating him exaggeratedly. He relished in their attention, he was practically a God to them, and you knew it was beyond entertaining to him, watching them almost kiss his feet, desperate for his approval. Often, after encounters like this, Klaus would tease and mock these pathetic conversations in private to you as you laid in bed, making you giggle into his shoulder, but you didn’t imagine that would be happening tonight.

You put your head down, determined not to torture yourself with memories of the past, and decided to eavesdrop on the guests, tuning you're hearing and listening to the conversations around you. If you were going to sit and wallow in self pity, you might as well get some entertainment out of it. You were engrossed in a vampire from New York attempting to flirt with a disinterested Rebekah when you felt a presence beside you, instantly recognising the warm comforting smell of pine and bourbon.

“Something tells me you aren’t enjoying yourself.”

You smiled gently, not sure where to look, focusing on the tiny beads of wine at the bottom of your glass, round and plump like drops of blood. How did he make you this nervous, even after all this time? Regardless of the situation, even when things were perfect between you, he could make you blush and squirm like you were a child.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” You meet his gaze for a few seconds, feeling his eyes dart over your face, and you turn back to the glass, blushing as red as the wine. “No, I’m fine. Really I’m…” You think for a moment, plucking up the courage to say what you feel, turning back to him and taking control, 'I’m proud of you Klaus, really.” His eyes flicker with emotion, disappearing as soon as it appears, and you swallow, stifling a fake yawn. “I’m just tired, not really in a party mood if Im honest, I think I’m going to head to bed.” You swung your feet out from under the stool, ready to head upstairs to think in silence, when his large hand gripped your shoulder, fingers around your flesh.

“No,” he said, his voice was soft, but his tone was firm and explicit, making you stay rigid in your spot. “Stay,” he continued, ‘for me.” A second passed and his voice changed, softer and gentler, like new snow. “Please.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Your eyes met for a moment, lingering too long on one another, and you watched them glimmer and shine, mimicking the grin widening on his face. All thoughts you had in your head vanished, and you sat dumbfounded.

“Besides,” he said, reaching for a bottle of something dark and bitter looking and pouring it into your glass, “I need someone to help me carry Kol up the stairs later.” He joked, motioning to his younger brother who was completely intoxicated, dancing on the mahogany dining table.

“Klaus!” You squealed as your glass started to overflow with alcohol, copper coloured droplets sliding onto the table. You lurched forward to stop him from adding any more and looked up at him with wide playful eyes, “Stop it! Or else you’ll be the one carrying me to bed later!” The unplanned innuendo is out of your mouth before you can stop it, and you blush beet red at your comment, closing your eyes from embarrassment.

You feel him lean into you, hot breath on your skin, that god damn smirk rising on his beautiful face. “Don’t tempt me.”

If your heart was still beating it would be racing into oblivion, you melt at his words and it makes you grimace at how pathetic you can be towards him. His eyes meet yours over the rim of his own drink, and he takes a sip of bourbon. The smell instantly hits you and memories flood your brain, one glance at him and you know he’s thinking the same. Long nights, dancing until your feet bled, drunken kisses and skin glistening with sweat. You’re reminded of his whispers of affection, lips buried into your flesh, “I love you’s” shared under neon lights, the weight of his hips against yours, giggling into his hair, his possessive hands around your waist as you partied together,  

He gives you one last dark, knowing look before he parts to talk to the rest of the guests and you bite your lip, staring down at your drink and then hastily reaching for it; downing it in one, Rebekah watching you intently.

—————-

That was a few days ago, and it replays in your head like a movie as you drum your fingertips against the windowsill. The party had been fun and everyone had been in great spirits, but as soon as your head reached the pillow, exhausted and exhilarated from the night, and you fell into a deep sleep, everything went back to normal. Klaus’ never allowed himself more than a moments rest, and you were sure he didn’t even sleep that night, rattling around the house, making phone calls and sending messages until the sun rose.

You had woken up to an empty house, and been informed by one of Klaus’ overzealous workers that everybody had left on their own private missions. To make matters even worse, when you tried to grab your coat and explore the town on your own, two of his henchmen grabbed your arms and told you they were under strict orders to keep you in the mansion. You obviously protested, but as you struggled to come free, the younger one looked at you and said through his compulsion, “If you leave, we have to kill ourselves.” At that you swore angrily and rolled your eyes, stomping back upstairs and flopping dramatically onto the bed. Fucking men. 

Being left to your own devices was torture, and you couldn’t pry anything out of anyone during the stolen moments when they returned home and you were feeling utterly sorry for yourself. You had flicked through all the magazines you had found in Bekah’s room, watched hours and hours of mind numbing reality tv, and even scrubbed the bathroom until it shone, but the days still dragged and you were devastatingly bored.

You watched a wood pigeon dart onto a branch and exhaled loudly, tapping your feet to a made up rhythm, you paused mid step, ears twitching rapidly as you swore you could hear footsteps approaching. You twisted your body to the sound, waiting for the tell tale twist of the doorknob, and expecting it to be one of the servants, telling you that you were going to be alone for the nest few days.

Only it wasn’t, it was Klaus.

You stared dumbfounded at the man before you, even though it was his mansion, filled with people working for him and you were only there because of him, he was the last person you expected. He looked as beautiful as ever, tousled curls and flushed cheeks, and that damned cheeky smirk on his lips.

“Klaus?” You asked, sitting up straighter and messing with your clothes. You were wearing fuzzy leggings and an oversized sweatshirt you had stolen from Rebekah, and you had haphazardly thrown your hair into some kind of up-do, tendrils falling into your eyes. You brushed them behind your ears and glanced up at him, pink hitting your cheeks.

“What are you doing here?” You said, staring up at him, curling your toes in your fluffy socks.

He stared down at you, offering a smile that made your insides do flips, as he simply said “I have something to show you.”

———————————-

The garden was as beautiful as you remembered from your walk with Elijah all those weeks ago, and under the moonlight it looked magical. You glanced at the blooming flowers and decorative statues, borders of rose bushes and fragrant lavender, trailing your fingertips across them as you walked. You were so caught up in the beauty that you hadn’t noticed Klaus staring intently at you, watching you and your childlike wonder at everything that surrounded you. He felt the familiar sparks igniting inside him that only occurred around you, the heat in the pit of his stomach whenever he looked at you. He was amongst some of the most breathtaking and striking scenery but none of it came even close to you.

‘So, where is it you’re taking me?” You asked, your words snapping him out of his trance.

“Not too much further now.” Was all he offered, picking up his pace and rounding a corner towards an archway covered in vibrant indigo flowers. You were in awe of the colours and smell, bunches of pretty plants overhead, leading down a path towards something in the distance.

“Wow, Klaus. I’m impressed,” You teased, “I had no idea you were such an avid gardener.”

He rolled his eyes at you, quipping back. “Well, I’ve always had an eye for beautiful things.” He gave you a look before raising a brow and stepping further into the darkness.

You paused, unable to hide your flush and silently cursed him out. Damn him and his stupid looks and stupid words.

He was a ways in front of you, you could see his silhouette morphing into the distance and you turned on your heel to catch up. You dipped and dashed under the vines and petals, careful not to crush the grass underfoot as you chased after him, wondering when he got so fast. You were about to call out to him, when you came to a halt, exhaling in wonder. You could see the lines of his frame, his hands resting on the balcony of a regal stone gazebo, rustic and beautiful, overlooking a vast tranquil lake. It was stunning, and you tentatively stepped up, there was a marble bird bath in the centre and statues of cherubs and angles resting on arches above your head.

You stood next to Klaus, watching him gaze forward like a king surveying his kingdom, which actually wasn’t that far from the truth. It was so quiet, the lake was still and calm and reflected like a diamond under the moonlight, the stars twinkling above you both. You steadied, relaxing and gazing out at the lake. A moment of peaceful silence passed, and you heard Klaus fidget next to you.

“My family owned land here, in Mystic Falls.” You nodded, letting him continue. “We would often come here and stay, but I don’t have many fond memories of it here.”

You weren’t surprised. Klaus’ rarely opened up about his childhood but when he did, the anecdotes made your heart hurt, you knew how evil his dad was and how much of a challenge it was growing up.

“When I heard about the Petrova doppleganger living here I knew it wouldn’t be long till I was coming back. I thought I’d collect her and leave; be in and out of this town within a couple of days, but of course, nothing is ever that easy. The Salvatore brothers obviously had to get involved and some challenges rose up on my end as well.” He added, looking at you with a playful smirk.

You mirrored him, watching his face under the light of the moon, illuminating his sharp jaw and ocean eyes. His voice was as soft as the water beneath you as he spoke, “At first, I despised being back. Towns like these always stir up things… memories.” You know what he meant, Mystic Falls was a rainier, woodier, gloomier version of the town you had met and fallen in love in, it was like déjà vu, the small city life reminding you of the past.

“This house has been in my family for centuries, but nobody ever had any use for it. It was just sitting here, covered in dust.” He pauses, his eyes flitting over the scenery “I came out one day when I needed some air, and I found this spot hidden away.” You nod, listening to his words. “It was breathtaking. I had no idea it existed, no idea that all of this was out here. So much innocence in a town I’ve always despised.”

Thunder crackles overhead. A storm appearing, grey clouds looming in the dark of the night. A few stray droplets of rain fall onto the lake, you watch it form ripples and you sigh.

“It’s beautiful.”

A moment of silence. “It reminded me of you.” His voice is quiet, and you look at him, struck by his words, but he keeps his eyes away from yours. I had so much on my mind.” He says, letting out an exasperated laugh, finally turning to face you. “So much. The Doppleganger, the Salvatore’s, my siblings and that bloody hunter Saltzman. I thought for once you might be off my mind, that for once I could get something done without constantly thinking about you, but thats bloody impossible isn’t it?”

You gulp. Feeling completely bewitched under his gaze you are unable to do anything but stare at him, losing yourself in his eyes.

“It’s crazy how all of a sudden, all of my thoughts can turn to you, just by seeing something that rivals your beauty.”

You shudder.

“I wish I could lie and say that I haven’t spent every single day thinking about you, but I can’t. You drove me bloody insane. I thought I was losing my mind, nothing made sense without you.”

He gazes down at you, the rain pelting down now, droplets splashing across both of your faces as it bounces off the side of the gazebo. You’re inches apart now, the heat of your bodies mingle against each other and he can’t resist the urge to clasp your face between his palms. It sends fireworks through you both, his fingers are like electric wires torching through your skin.

“When I found out where you were I lost it. I’d gotten so used to the idea of never seeing you again, I thought it was my punishment. Penance for all the evil things I’ve done, karma taking away the only thing in my life I care about, no one like me deserves something so pure, so good.”

His fingertips graze along your cheekbone and you can feel your eyes welling up at his words, you’re breathless, wanting to explain everything, but he’s too wrapped up in his own thoughts.

“I needed you back, I didn’t care what I had to do, I had to have you. The idea that you were out there, possibly with another man…” his jaw clenches, “The thought of you with someone else, another bastard making you happy when it should have been me, it drove me crazy. I needed to see you, to touch you, to know you were safe.”

With hesitation he pushes himself off you, the pressure from his fingers leaving burn marks on your skin. He’s back to staring out at the water, the torrential rain and wind thundering around you, your hair whipping round your face.

“Klaus?”

“I hated you. Despised you for leaving me. I trusted you, and you left.”

“Klaus… please.” Your voice cracks, salty tears making their way down your face and catching on your lips.

“I didn’t want to look at you when you came back. When I knew you were safe I locked you in that  room, I couldn’t bear seeing your face. Until I heard you crying.”

You think back to that very first night, overwhelmed, exhausted and emotional you collapsed into a heap of your own tears. You had fallen asleep on the bathroom floor, waking up in the plush bed. Someone had changed you and tucked you in, you had suspected it was Klaus, but know you were certain.

“I wasn’t sure what I was doing, but hearing you cry broke me. Knowing that i was the cause of your pain, it was too much. Seeing you after all that time… I realised I was a fool to think I could ever not love you.” The moon is wide and full, he watches it, almost as if the wolf inside can’t contain itself. “I hope you can forgive me.”

Forgive him? You almost look up to see if pigs are flying across the night sky. These aren’t the words you expect to hear from him.

“The way I’ve handled things has been… regrettable. I’m realising that now, I should never have treated you as if I owned you… it was wrong of me.”

You open your mouth to reply but he cuts you off, slicing through the dark like a blade.

“I’ve asked for all the spells to be removed, I’ve taken off my compulsion. You’re free to do as you like.”

He falls silent again and you can swear you see him visibly exhale with something, almost deflating, as if all the energy and power has been sucked out of him.

“What changed?” You ask, stepping towards him.

“I love you too much to keep hurting you.”

“Hurting me?” Love. Love. Love. He loves you, it fills you up like thick warm gooey honey, but it’s not as simple as it sounds.

“I’m letting you go.”

You falter, furrowing your eyebrows as you watch him, trying to understand what he’s saying.

“If you leave, I won’t follow you. I’ll… I’ll let you go… You’ll be free of me.”

“Klaus.” You begin, inching towards him, reaching out to grab his arm but he turns red, anger getting the best of him, the alpha hybrid clawing its way back to the surface.

“No. Just go! Tonight!” He bites his tongue, eyes filling with emotion and the vein in his throat pulsating rapidly, “Pack everything and leave before the sunrises, I… I can’t have you in the same house as me.”

“What if I don’t want to leave?” You bite, snapping him out of his own rant.

“Then you’re an idiot.” You scoff and resist the urge to give him the finger. “You know what I am. I’m a monster! I ruined us once and you know I’ll do it again. Leave! GO!”

He’s speaking with fury, crimson in the face. If you were anyone else you would be cowering with fear, terrified of the creature before you and everything he’s capable of, nut you know him better than anyone, and you aren't scared.

“You know what Klaus? If you hadn’t have brought me back, I don’t know if I would have ever returned.”

He swallows thickly, mouth agape, hurt in his beautiful eyes.

“Because I’m a coward, not because I stopped loving you.” You force him to look at you, taking his face in your hands this time, holding him firmly in place. “What I did… How I left… I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life. I thought I was doing the right thing, I never meant to hurt you.”

You rest your forehead against his, your breath hot and heavy. Its magnetic between the two of you, pulses synced and intertwined, the way you are supposed to be. Silence fills up the space between you both, thick like smoke, neither of you know what to say. You’re speaking through your eyes, domineering stares and hands gripped on one another, terrified to let the other slip away.

“I’m leaving for Portland tomorrow.”

“You are? Why?” You ask, lips milliermeters away from his own.

“There’s a pack of werewolves camping out, I’m going to go and have a talk with them.”

You give him a look, knowing exactly what that ‘talk’ is going to consist of. A lot of blood and arguing, possibly death.

“Besides, I didn’t know if you were going to leave, I didn’t want to be around if you did.” His voice was bashful, so rare to be heard coming from his lips. He pulls closer to you, his nose brushing yours, the rain still thrashing and thundering around you sending chills between you. He sounds so vulnerable, so innocent, as he mumbles against you, “Will you be there when you get back?”

You don’t answer. Instead you do the thing that you’ve craved since you saw him, you pulled him impossibly closer and kissed him. He was in shock, dazed by the taste of your familiar, enchanting lips, you were as addictive as bourbon, making him feel a high like no other. His hands on your hair, mouth opening to drink in as much as you as he could, what he would give to take you right then and there, but he knew he had to be patient. Under the moonlight and the claps of thunder and icy rain, you kissed feverishly and frenzied, he was possessive and dominant, marking you as his.

You were pressed up against one another, his hands clambering over you, on your tiptoes, desperate for as much of him as you could get, you had been starving for his touch for so long. You were breathing into one another, a mess of hair and sighs and fireworks that sparked under your skin. After a moment he pulled away, reluctant and breathless, resting his forehead against yours once more, bound to one another with invisible chains.

He looked up at you with big playful eyes, a mocking pout on his now swollen lips. “Does this mean we’re friends again?”

You exhaled, reaching for him and pulling him onto you again, burying yourself onto his lips with a teasing smile and a flirty wink, “I’d say we’re a little bit more than friends.”

—————-

to be continued….

[saffitm]

╱   –     IN  CHARACTER  QUESTIONNAIRE    –     ╱

whats your name ?

she   wonders   if   she   can   get   away   with   lying.   it’s   definitely   something   she’s   good   at   –   but   saffi’s   pretty   good   at   everything   as   long   as   she   just   concentrates.   steely   grey   eyes   look   from   the   paper   to   the   others   writing   down   their   answers   and   she   methodically   works   her   way   through   every   consequence   that   could   come   from   lying.   it’s   a   questionnaire   ,   she   finally   decides.   if   they   really   wanted   to   learn   her   dirty   little   secrets   ,   they’d   try   harder.   her   left   hand   writes   down   her   answers   ,   hubristically   signing   her   name   instead   of   just   writing   it   down.

                                     —   '         saffi      michaelides         ’   —

what’s your age & birthday ? 

her   handwriting   is   neat   ,   almost   so   neat   that   it   might   look   like   it’s   computer   generated   –   just   kidding   ,   but   she’s   definitely   been   there   before.   if   she   had   more   time   ,   maybe   she’d   try   a   little   more   for   perfection.               ‘         i   celebrated   my   twenty-third   birthday   on   june   sixth   this   year.         ’               she   contemplates   a   smiley   face   ,   but   decides   against   it.

where are you from ?

she   almost   cracks   a   smile   ,   thinking   of   home.   but   almost   immediately   thoughts   of   home   and   what   awaits   her   when   she   goes   back   flood   her   ever-busy   mind   ,   erasing   all   thoughts   of   even   attempting   to   smile.               ‘         boston   ,   massachussets.         ’            she   doesn’t   even   want   to   go   back   home   ,   she’s   smart   enough   to   disappear.   she’s   already   formulated   enough   plans   to   disappear   without   getting   anyone   in   trouble   ,   she   knows   all   she   has   to   do   is   execute   it.

describe yourself in three words.

her   lips   purse   ,   a   signature   look   when   she’s   actually   thinking   hard.   most   things   don’t   take   much   effort   for   saffi   nowadays   –   she’s   old   enough   to   know   most   things   and   she’s   always   two   steps   ahead   of   everyone   ,   but   ask   any   question   about   herself   and   she   magically   doesn’t   know   the   answer.               ‘   hard-working,   ’         she   writes   down   one   ,   slowly.               ‘   ambitious,   ’   her   black   pen   scratches   the   paper.               ‘   enterprising.   ’            perhaps   she’s   being   too   nice   to   herself   ,   but   god   knows   she   deserves   it.

what fictional characters do you relate to the most ?

this   question   makes   her   smile.   she’s   always   resonated   with   one   character   and   one   character   alone   ,   physically   and   mentally.               ‘   easy   –   annabeth   chase.   ’         she   misses   her   childhood   ,   reading   the   books   without   a   care   in   the   world.   she   wishes   she   used   greek   mythology   more   in   her   real   life   ,   but   the   law   doesn’t   really   call   for   the   memorization   of   seventy-thousand   ancient   myths   or   quotations   from   the   odyssey.               ‘   rumor   has   it   ,   rick   riodran   based   her   off   of   me.   ’               a   rare   moment   of   witty   humor.

who are you closest to ? describe your favorite memory with this person.

it’s   a   tough   reality   ,   but   saffi   doesn’t   think   she’s   close   with   anyone   ,   really.   this   comes   from   years   of   fake   friends   and   series   of   manipulations   ,   but   at   the   end   of   the   day   –   there’s   nobody   to   blame   but   herself.   she   blinks   ,   pen   hovering   over   the   white   paper.               ‘   my   dad.   ’               she   guesses   ,   it’s   a   good   enough   answer   and   nobody   will   second   guess   it.   she   is   probably   the   closest   to   him   ,   after   all.               ‘   he’s   a   good   role   model   and   he’s   helped   me   through   every   step   of   my   life.   sure   ,   he’s   not   perfect   –   but   nobody   is   and   i   can’t   fault   him   for   being   human.   ’            it’s   not   what   was   asked   ,   and   she   chews   the   inside   of   her   cheek   –   gently   ,   not   wanting   to   give   herself   another   injury.

              ‘   my   favorite   memory   with   my   dad   was   when   i   was   graduating   high   school.   i   hadn’t   turned   seventeen   yet   but   it’d   been   a   really   rough   year   for   me   –   especially   with   my   dad   returning   to   congress   and   everyone   throwing   his   name   around   for   a   presidential   candidate.   the   tabloids   were   ruthless   that   year   ,   i   remember   instead   of   writing   articles   about   me   graduating   a   year   early   and   attending   yale   ,   they   were   talking   about   if   i’d   lost   my   virginity   to   my   newest   boyfriend.   silly   ,   right   ?   considering   i   was   literally   sixteen.   anyway   ,   i   cried   after   graduation   because   while   it   should’ve   been   a   proud   moment   ,   i   had   been   humiliated   all   year.   my   dad   took   me   out   for   milkshakes   at   one   in   the   morning.   we   ditched   the   bodyguards   and   we   went   to   a   little   boxcar   diner   and   we   just   talked   for   maybe   an   hour.   i   don’t   even   know   why   i’m   writing   this   down   ,   nobody   else   knows   this.   it’s   kaos   ,   i   guess.   ’           her   handwriting   here   is   especially   messy   ,   almost   illegible.

what’s your favorite holiday ? why ?

she   doesn’t   celebrate   holidays   ,   truthfully.   they’re   childish   and   she   really   doesn’t   see   the   point   in   them   ,   but   she’s   had   the   same   answer   since   she   was   six   ,   when   adults   started   asking.               ‘   christmas.   ’               she   doesn’t   want   to   elaborate   ,   but   she   forces   herself   to   continue   writing.                  ‘   i   love   the   atmosphere   of   the   holiday.   it’s   snowing   ,   it’s   winter   ,   people   are   kinder   ,   people   are   more   grateful.   it’s   a   good   holiday.   ’   it’s   a   bullshit   answer   ,   one   she’s   perfected   over   the   years   as   it   became   unacceptable   to   say   she   enjoyed   to   expensive   presents   and   the   wine   her   parents   let   her   drink.

what’s a little known fact about you ?

everything   about   her   intelligence   was   a   little   known   fact   to   general   america.   she’d   grown   up   as   the   daughter   of   the   handsome   politician   and   the   ex-beauty   queen   ,   she’d   only   ever   been   known   as   a   rich   girl   with   a   pretty   face   and   a   stunning   smile.               ‘   everything   ,   honestly.   ’               she’s   pressing   down   a   tad   harder   when   she   writes.               ‘   let’s   see   ,   i   graduated   high   school   with   one   year   of   college   complete   and   one   year   early   ,   i   got   a   perfect   act   score   and   near   perfect   sat   score   ,   i   graduated   from   yale   when   i   was   twenty   and   i   got   the   highest   lsat   score   of   my   class   –   but   i’m   sure   you   know   about   my   list   of   boyfriends   when   i   was   a   teen   ,   right   ?   ’               the   words   are   laced   with   bitterness   ,   but   she   can’t   help   it.   she   crosses   the   whole   thing   out   ,   outlining   the   block   of   words   and   coloring   it   in   so   it’s   just   a   block   of   black   ink.   underneath   it   ,   she   writes,               ‘   i’m   allergic   to   strawberries   !   ’

if you could describe your life six word story style, what would it be ?

a   wry   smile   plays   across   her   lips   ,   pen   gliding   smoothly.               ‘   i’m   so   much   more   than   that.   ’               a   sentence   she’s   said   to   herself   all   her   life.   no   explanation   wanted   ,   so   no   explanation   needed.

what’s a song you think will describe your summer in kaos ?

she’s   stumped   and   it   doesn’t   happen   often.   she   doesn’t   know   many   songs   that   describe   her   situation   ,   girl   is   tired   of   everything   so   she   runs   away   from   home   and   tries   to   stay   away   for   as   long   as   possible.               ‘   a   sky   full   of   stars   by   coldplay.   i   don’t   know   ,   it   just   reminds   me   of   my   brother   and   what   i   could   feel   this   summer.   ’

[simkaswriting]

The First Wife-(Negan)

Characters: The wives, Negan and (Y/N).

Warnings: some swearing(obviously)

Pairing: Negan x wife!reader

Word Count: 1226

Summary: in which (Y/N) defends Negan and he overhears. 

A/N- this is a oneshot I wrote about two years ago, but it’s been in my drafts for far too long, so here it is!

I was the first wife. Long before Frankie, or Amber or the rest of them. The moment Negan established the Sanctuary, I was by his side with a supporting smile. When he began making deals with other communities, I was there again, admiring his vigilance. I was by his side, holding Lucille whilst he raged at some poor bastard unfortunate enough to make a bad first impression. I thought it would be just the two of us, ruling over countless communities, including our own one. Just the two of us, ruthless and invincible against what little humanity there was left.

But no way in hell did I think Negan ever loved me, and I accepted that. Hell, my own feelings have always been unclear. He isn’t the type of guy to settle down and lead a simple life. Depp down, I know he was destined to accomplish great things, and he does too. And he further proved that when he brought the first one around. Frankie, a whiny ginger.

I didn’t know what to think at first, my mind a whirlwind of pieces of different thoughts. She was quiet at first. Negan spent a lot of his free time with her, and it wasn’t like he was neglecting me. But all of a sudden, it was Frankie who stood by Negan, the way I used to. I then decided that as much as the company was welcome, I wouldn’t associate myself with her.

Next came Tanya and Amber, of which only Tanya was bearable. I think that’s when I first realised that he’s collecting wives. Almost like trophies he could show off to his enemies, ones that he felt proud of but most importantly, they were only his. I was a part of his newlyfound harem. I only spoke to him when he spoke to me, or when we fucked. But at the end of the day, despite having another 6 wives, I was still the only one with her own room. I was still the one who the Saviors listened to when I barked orders at them. And I still am. That won’t change. These thoughts have been the only thing keeping me sane, keeping me from running away, or lashing out. But despite the bitter disappointment over the whole ordeal, I couldn’t see myself leaving Negan behind.

A tap on my shoulder brings me out of my slightly depressing yet sobering thoughts. I look away from the window and notice Sherry sitting on the sofa next to me, a glass of wine in her hand. She’s the one I hate most. She’s selfish, ungrateful and just plain annoying.

“Why are you off in your own world again?” Sherry asks with a condescending tone to her voice. She thinks she’s special, just because two men fought over her. She thinks it gives her some sort of advantage to the rest of us, but really, I could knock the bitch down a few pegs and Negan would only glare and shout for the sake of causing a scene. She has power over nothing.

Before I can answer, she scoffs and shakes her head as if in disbelief. Sherry calls over the rest of the wive who form a lazy semicircle around us. It’s amusing. 

I take a tentative drink from my glass of bourbon before raising my eyebrows at her. “You’ve got the attention you want now. So, what is it?” I smirk a little, loving the way her eyebrows furrow at the fact that someone dared to question her.

“Why do you still fantasise about him? He’s a manipulative pig who kills for fun.” Sherry spits, standing up and glaring at me. The rest of the wives hush as they watch us intensively. If this was Amber and Sherry arguing, they’d be stepping in. But they’ve seen me break a girls nose because she tripped me over. And this is like straight up pushing me down a flight of stairs.

The cup in my hand smashes against the wall at the other side of the room as I stand up and get right into Sherry’s face, chest heaving.

“Listen to me you ungrateful bitch, you wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for Negan. He feeds you, clothes you and you live the life many dream of. You had your chance to get away, and you’re back again because you’re weak without 4 walls around you and men guarding you.” I growl at the brown-haired woman, who isn’t backing down. She rolls her eyes, and crosses her arms over her chest defensively.

“You were here first, we get it. You think you have some kind of power over what he does. Well, newsflash, you fucking don’t.” Sherry spits at me. A calming hand is pressed to her back by Tanya, who’s been around long enough to know that if she doesn’t cool it she’s going be on her knees counting her teeth very soon.

“Nobody fucking controls him! He does what he wants, and all I do is support his decisions. I mean, I haven’t jumped his bones in a year, whilst you’re at it every other night just so you can get some fags. I suggest you shut the fuck up before you develop a nice shiner on you fucking face.” I yell at her, my voice gaining in volume as I go on. At this point. Sherry is seething and Tanya along with Amber are pulling her away from me. For her own safety.

An amused chuckle interrupts our little feud. By the door, a freshly shaved Negan is leaning against the door frame, Lucille set down next to him. If I wasn’t feeling adrenaline rushing through me I probably would have been scared shitless. But I’m not, and that frankly scares me.

“Holy fucking hell. I’ve got a pole in my pants just by watching the two of you argue over me.” Negan chuckles, an amused expression on his face. A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth at his choice of words.

The wives move out of the way quickly, and busy them selves with board games and books, whilst Sherry and I stand still and look at Negan.

He lifts Lucille and points the deadly weapon at me, before walking out of the room. I take that as my queue. But before I leave, I spit at Sherry’s feet. The bitch deserves nothing less.

The adrenaline fuels up again when I see Negan standing outside, a small grin in place. If I’m correct, this is the first time in months he’s directly looked at me. Whilst it does sting a little, I can’t control what he does and I’ve made my peace with it.

“I almost forgot how fucking passionate you can get, (Y/N). Never let me forget that again.” He chuckles a little, before leaning in close to whisper in my ear, his beard tickling a little.

“You’re still my favorite. don’t forget that.” His deep voice sends chills up my spine, and a small smile spreads across my face.

I step away from him, before shrugging a little.

“5 more minutes and she would have a missing tooth.” I laugh a little, as does he. I knew that I missed Negan. I just didn’t realize how much until now. I missed the Negan he is when he’s around me.

“I believe every single word that just came out of your pretty little mouth. Come with me.”

[cometomecosette]

“Les Mis” review: US Tour, San Francisco, August 25, 2018

When I heard that the Les Mis tour was coming to San Francisco, I knew right away that I had to make the 2-hour drive and see it. I hadn’t seen the show onstage in three years and I’m always eager to see a new performance – only time and money limits stop me from traveling to see every professional production.

The current US tour is, of course, Laurence Conner’s 25th Anniversary production, which has been sweeping the world since 2009. The sets, costumes and basic staging were familiar and my feelings about them haven’t changed a bit. I could nitpick about all the details that feel inferior to the classic Trevor Nunn/John Caird production (the lack of any chairs or tables in Empty Chairs, the excessive slapstick in the Thénardiers’ scenes, the awkwardness of some scenes that were clearly written to be staged on a turntable, etc.), but overall, it’s a beautiful way to experience the musical. The impressionistic imagery derived from Victor Hugo’s drawings is both Romantically beautiful and appropriately somber and gritty, and for the most part, the staging excellently serves the story. So many little details enhanced the action’s moving effect: for example, in the Well Scene, Valjean found an exhausted Young Cosette collapsed in tears over her heavy bucket, and he gently approached her from behind and helped her to her feet, perfectly mirroring the moment when the Bishop first found him sleeping on his doorstep.

Believe it or not, this was my first time seeing the 25th Ann. production since 2012, before the movie was released. Since then I’ve only seen non-replica regional productions; I missed the 2014 Broadway revival and have never been anywhere near the International Tour either. So I noticed a fair amount of changes that have been made to the production since the original 2009-13 tours. Some of these changes I had already read about in other people’s reviews, but others were surprises. Here are all the differences I noticed:

*All projections that used to tell us when and where the action takes place have been cut. Maybe this was already the case in 2009-13, but I don’t remember. This must make the time skips confusing for first-time audience members who haven’t read the synopsis.

*In the Prologue, during the farm scene’s instrumental passage, two little girls run across the stage playing tag. One trips and falls, and Valjean approaches to make sure she’s all right, but her parents hurry protectively to her side and glare him away from her.

*Petit Gervais is included. Valjean takes his coin during “Now every door is closed to me…” I know this bit of staging has been in and out of this production since 2009 (it was present in the UK tour, then absent in the 2010 US tour, then reinstated in Toronto…), but for now it’s back. I think the placement is awkward, though, since it comes just on the heels of Valjean showing compassion to another child. I personally would have placed Gervais after the inn scene during “And now I know how freedom feels…” to show that Valjean’s increasing mistreatment has made him even more bitter and ruthless than when he was first released from prison. (Future directors, take note.)

*Fantine’s dress is now a solid turquoise in place of the stripe-and-flower pattern from the 2009-13 tours. I already knew this from the 2014 Broadway photos of Caissie Levy, though.

*In “At the End of the Day,” the Factory Girl now has a “girl posse” of two other women. They’re the ones who initially snatch Fantine’s letter and sing “And what have we here, little innocent sister?” then pass the letter to their queen bee, who reads it.

*Fantine’s first customer in “Lovely Ladies” is now the Factory Foreman. (This may have been the case back in 2009-13, but I don’t remember; it was the case in the 2006-07 Broadway production, though.) We get a long, horrible moment where they stand and stare at each other, Fantine appalled while the Foreman leers back at her, before she finally gives him her hand.

*Same scene: Fantine doesn’t sing “Come on, captain, you can wear your shoes…” anymore. Instead, she and the Foreman emerge from their “transaction” and two other whores ask the departing Foreman “Tell me, captain, did you wear your shoes?” “Don’t it make a change… etc.” while Fantine stands still and traumatized. She only starts singing at “Easy money, lying on a bed…”

*Fantine’s cause of death is once again TB, as Hugo wrote it. Back in the 2009-13 tours she wasn’t portrayed as sick; instead Bamatabois gave her a powerful kick in the side, which apparently broke her ribs, punctured a lung and killed her. But now she’s coughing before Bamatabois ever sets eyes on her. I suppose after Anne Hathaway’s dramatic weight loss and oh-so-believable illness in the movie, Laurence Connor decided he couldn’t kill his Fantine differently.

*In “Master of the House,” we get a more elaborate variation on the movie’s quick “watering the wine” bit. Halfway through the song, a man desperately needs to go to the bathroom; Thénardier directs him to Mme. Thénardier, who holds a chamber pot while he uses it. At the end of the song, she secretly pours out the chamber pot into the wine jug, then brings the jug to her husband, who drinks, then gags.

*I remember that the first time I saw the 2010 US tour, Mme. Thénardier tried to seduce Valjean during “The Bargain,” but later in the run, that bit of comedy was cut. Well, now it’s back. She “treats” him to some dramatic leg- and cleavage-flaunting and sprays herself with much too much perfume, making him cough when she comes near him. A little excessive, if you ask me.

*Gavroche’s costume seems to have been tweaked. Instead of the all-brown outfit of the 2009-13 tours, as seen on Robert Madge in the 25th Ann. Concert, he now wears a light blue shirt with a tan vest. Also, instead of “This is my school, my high society…” in “Look Down,” he now sings his more political lyrics from the movie, starting with, “This is the land that fought for liberty…”

*The street fight between the two women in “Look Down” has been cut. Why that vignette wasn’t cut to begin with when the show was first trimmed down in the early 2000s, yet actual characterization material from major characters was cut, I’ll never know.

*Enjolras and Marius’s lines in “Look Down” are now a public speech to the beggars, delivered on soapboxes with one or two other Amis (I don’t remember which ones) present too.

*In “Attack on Rue Plumet,” Éponine now snatches a knife from a gang member (I don’t remember who, though I don’t think it was Montparnasse – either Babet or Claquesous) and threatens all the men with it as she sings “I know this house, I tell you…”

*When Éponine delivers Marius’s letter, she doesn’t run straight up to Valjean and announce her purpose anymore. Instead the scene is staged more like the original Nunn/Caird version; she creeps into the garden and looks up at Cosette’s balcony, trying to determine how to get the letter to her, but then Valjean catches her and she gives him the letter out of fear. She also takes down her hair and reveals her gender on “He said to give it to Cosette,” though I’m not sure why.

*Gavroche flips off Javert the end of “Little People.” Not the Arm, which other Gavroches have done. The Finger. My friend who saw the show with me was disturbed that they let a child do that.

*Éponine’s death is now a self-sacrifice. When she enters over the barricade, she almost makes it to safety, but Marius, in his eagerness to talk to her, jumps up from cover while bullets are still flying and is almost shot. Éponine pushes him out of the way and takes the bullet instead, though she doesn’t let him realize she’s been hit until after they climb down to the ground.

*Gavroche’s death is no longer offstage, but now handled in the style that seems to be near ubiquitous in productions with no turntable. Gavroche makes it back to the top of the barricade, but is shot at the last moment and falls into Enjolras’s arms. Then Enjolras hands him down to Grantaire, who mournfully carries him from the barricade.

*Post-Final Battle, Javert now has a movie-esque moment of sympathy over Gavroche’s body. He finds the boy on the ground, kneels and contemplates him, then does a sign of the cross before lifting him up onto the cart next to Enjolras.

*Likewise, Javert now has a gun in his last meeting with Vajean. This has seemingly become ubiquitous in post-movie productions.

*In the wedding scene, midway through the Thénardiers’ exchange with Marius, the majordomo announces “Ladies and gentlemen, the cake!” A gorgeous wedding cake is wheeled onstage – and Mme. Thénardier promptly grabs the knife, cuts a piece and stuffs it into her mouth with her bare hands, much to the shock of the onlookers. In disgust, the majordomo orders the cake removed. I’m not sure whether I think this is funny or fatphobic.

*When the Bishop appears among the spirits in the finale, he and Valjean hug, rather than just bowing to each other as in 2009-13.

 Now for the cast…

Nick Cartell (Jean Valjean)

Both musically and dramatically, this man commanded the stage. His bright, ringing tenor was capable of all the magnificent power and magnificent gentleness an ideal Valjean should display; his only possible vocal flaw was that he sounded a bit too young. (The same could be said about his looks.) His acting was spot-on too. From the angry convict of the beginning, to the gentlemanly Monsieur Madeleine, to Javert’s fierce nemesis, to Cosette’s loving father, to the dying old man of the finale, he embodied each of Valjean’s identities. One worthwhile touch he added that I’ve never seen from any other musical Valjean was the limp Hugo ascribes to the character, as a result of living for years with his leg chained: at first it was barely noticeable, but as he aged it became painfully pronounced. Another, adorable touch to his performance was this: he took the popular detail of Valjean gently booping Cosette’s nose, and instead of only doing it once or twice, he expanded it into a special gesture of affection for her throughout their years together. Repeatedly he touched his own nose, then touched hers: first when he adopted her, then in “In My Life,” then at the beginning of “Valjean’s Confession,” and finally as he was dying. During the final curtain calls, the audience’s wild applause for him was well deserved.

Josh Davis (Javert)

I’m afraid he was my least favorite of the lead performers. Not in terms of his singing: he had a rich, powerful baritone voice that was just right for the part. But his diction tended to sound strange and his whole characterization was a bit too growly, aggressive and “cartoon villain”-like for my taste. I’m sure this was partly direction: Laurence Connor’s concept of Javert has always seemed more aggressive and neurotic than the novel’s or Trevor Nunn’s, regardless of the actor. But it still didn’t ring quite right for me. I agree with a previous reviewer who wrote that his delivery recalled William Shatner … particularly at the end of “Who Am I?” when he charged after Valjean yelling “CON!” which of course sounded just like “KHAN!” I literally asked myself “Did he just make a Star Trek joke?” (Though maybe it was one, since this was a matinee performance; I know it’s a tradition in the London production to add little jokes in the matinees.) Still, there were moments of his performance I liked a lot: for example, his unique, utterly broken, weary delivery of the line “This man has killed me even so!” I’ve definitely seen worse Javerts in the past. I’ve just seen better ones too.

Mary Kate Moore (Fantine)

A lovely, delicate Fantine with a beautiful mezzo voice and a poignant, pain-filled characterization. I just wish I could have seen more anger, pride and inner strength from her. Maybe part of the problem was my far-away seat, because I’ve read another fan’s review of her performance that praised her strength and anger. But personally, I never felt the complexity of the novel’s Fantine from her. Still, without question, her singing and acting were high in quality. I think my main issue was with the staging, which highlighted Fantine’s victimhood and reduced her agency. The factory “fight” consisted only of the Factory Girl beating her up, rather than letting her make a fierce effort to get the letter back, and the reassignment of lines in “Lovely Ladies” left her standing in mute, broken shock where past Fantines have made active, tough-talking advances to potential customers. She was a good Fantine, but might have done better in a different production.

J. Anthony Crane (Thénardier)

Scraggly, slimy, funny and slightly larger than life but never too hammy, dark and sinister in “Dog Eats Dog”… in short, he was just what Thénardier should be. His marriage to his wife seemed to be one where “pots and pans and underwear fly”: they bickered ferociously, but worked together effortlessly, and at the end of the Waltz of Treachery they “celebrated” their 1500 francs with his head under her skirt. Predictably, the audience loved them both.

Allison Guinn (Mme. Thénardier)

Good, but over the top. Her voice was powerful and strident, which is right for the role, but she made it a little too strident and annoying for my taste. The same can be said for her acting: just as brash, funny and nasty as it should be, but a little too slapstick and cartoonish. Of course she’s far from the only cartoonish Mme. T. I’ve ever seen, and while she didn’t perfectly embody the brute Hugo created, she was still a solid source of comic relief.

Robert Ariza (u/s Marius)

A very likeable Marius: cute and small (he was slightly shorter than Éponine!), with fluffy black hair and a warm, sweet tenor voice. He was adorably passionate and lovesick in the early scenes; I adored the moment in “A Heart Full of Love” when he thought he had scared Cosette away after she ran from her balcony, and was groaning “I do not even know your name!” to the wall of her house (such an INFP!) when he suddenly realized she was standing behind him. He also offered a warm friendship with Éponine and touching grief and tears at her death. His “Empty Chairs” was appropriately poignant too, with its outpouring of grief and anger. Knowing that first-time Les Mis viewers so often react to Marius in less than complimentary way, it’s a testament to his performance that afterwards, my first-timer friend praised the character’s coming-of-age journey and his romance with Cosette. Everything about his performance was more-or-less just right.

Paige Smallwood (Éponine)

A good, strong Éponine, with a beautiful, powerful voice and a solid, affecting characterization. She was a genuine street rat, never cutesy or ingénue-like, yet not too harsh either, but struck just the right balance of toughness, playfulness, anger, heartache and warmth. I especially liked a few of her small yet unique acting choices. On the line “I like the way you grow your hair,” for example, she started to reach out to touch Marius’s hair, but then pulled herself back, and distracted him from what she had almost done by throwing his book onto the ground. I also loved her grimly determined expression at the end of “On My Own,” when she set off to rejoin Marius at the barricade; other Éponines I’ve known have paused in uncertainty at that point, torn between love and fear, but this one strode to her fate with hard, unwavering resolve. Her death was excellent too, with the perfect balance between pain, vocal beauty and tenderness. The audience understandably loved her.

Matt Shingledecker (Enjolras)

I should have known to expect good things from this Enjolras, since his performance as Tony in the 2009 West Side Story revival (he replaced Matt Cavanaugh) was highly praised by the late Arthur Laurents in his last memoire. His bright, ringing tenor voice was just right both for Tony and for Enjolras, and his looks were ideal too: tall, strong and handsome, with a long mane of sunny blond hair. His acting was also spot on, with an excellent balance between stately dignity and rabble-rousing fire. I only wish I had been sitting closer, so I could see his expressions more closely and have more insight into this Enjolras’s relationships with his friends, especially Grantaire. But I have nothing but positive feelings about his performance.

Jillian Butler (Cosette)

A sweet, charming Cosette; not one of the most outstanding I’ve seen, per se, but very good. As with Robert’s Marius, it’s a testament to her talent that my first-timer friend loved their love story. Her voice was a bright, crystalline soprano, slightly thin, but never wispy or squeaky. Her acting was spot-on too; she was just as innocent, lovesick and tender as she should be, angry about Valjean’s secret keeping without being bratty, and appropriately distraught by his death. I do wish Connor’s staging let her show him more affection instead of highlighting their conflict, but of course this wasn’t her fault at all.

John Ambrosino (u/s Grantaire)

Effective, though I wish I had been sitting closer to see the nuances of the various looks he exchanged with Enjolras. They were subtle, but I have no doubt they were emotionally charged. Still, he was convincing as the wild and funny drunkard, as the sad cynic, and as Gavroche’s devoted big brother figure. I was especially struck by his private, despairing collapse against a wall after Enjolras glared at him at the end of his “Drink With Me” verse, and though his “NO!” at Gavroche’s death was slightly underwhelming, his staggering, open-mouthed anguish as he carried the boy’s body and quiet weeping into his chest on the ground were heartbreaking. Overall, an excellent performance.

Sam Middleton (Gavroche)

A first-rate Gavroche, old enough to be convincing and commanding onstage yet young enough to be poignant, with a strong, clear voice and good acting throughout. Besides the usual cheek and feistiness, I loved that this production made Gavroche’s compassionate side clear. He was the one who comforted Marius after Éponine’s death, and when Grantaire collapsed in despair after his “Drink With Me” solo, he gave him the sweetest consoling hug. The characters onstage weren’t the only ones distraught by his death, that’s for sure.

Elsa Avery Dees (Young Cosette)

A delicate, sweet-voiced little thing, just as any Young Cosette should be.

 My friend who had never seen Les Mis before was completely bowled over by this performance. She had endless praise for it our way home (though even she thought the slapstick in the Thénardiers’ scenes was overdone) and right away got tickets to see again with her family. Personally, I wouldn’t want to see the same cast back-to-back, but I am hoping to see the tour again when it comes to LA in the spring. This production might not be perfect, but still, both for first-timers and for longtime Les Mis lovers, it has no shortage of great things to offer.

[korkrunchcereal]

What Futures May Hold

(This is the final part to Act II of Aurelian’s story! Read the previous part here)

Aurelian straightened his sleeves as he stood up, looking across to the body of his relative. There was always something rewarding of a plan coming together perfectly; it even made the wine taste good despite its obnoxious flavor. Illuria Indaris was dead by his hand, and he did not feel an ounce of regret. It was just business, in a sense. Perhaps had he known her for more time he might have felt some form of sorrow yet looking now at her lifeless form he felt contempt.

“Not a true Indaris; hah.” He stumbled a bit as he stepped forward, having to brace himself against the table. He had not lied when he said both him and Illuria had been poisoned, feeling its effects begin to creep into his system even now. It was a bit risky he confessed, but with great risks came great rewards. He looked up to see Balor standing at the doorway, arms crossed.

“Who won the chess?”

“I did, of course.” He straightened himself, walking towards the man who was more than that. “The guards?”

“Disposed of outside. It’s a clear walk from here. Valkorius should be right outside with the full antidote for you…I must say it was a foolish plan.”

“Foolish perhaps, but it worked. See the thing is Aldronya, no one expects your assassin to also poison themselves; that would be insane.”

“Clearly.” She said with sarcasm. “She looks…peaceful. Is she smiling?” Aurelian craned his neck around to look. Sure enough, the faintest tug of a smile had formed on the woman’s lips as she died.

“I think so, though I’m not sure why. Ah, but she’s dead now and could not tell us anyways. Best not to dwell on questions we can’t solve now.” Aldronya, disguised as Balor, eyed Aurelian curiously. “What?”

“Nothing. Come on. Can you walk on your own?”

“Yes of course. The poison hasn’t hit me fully yet.” She gave a nod in response, turning to move through the house. Aurelian gave one final look back towards Illuria, before departing. As Aldronya had said, the way to the front door was clear of anyone save Valkorius, who stood beyond the entrance. He held a small vial in one hand, offering it out to Aurelian.

“Drink.” Aurelian did just that, grabbing it and gulping down the contents. His face contorted in disgust as the man gagged.

“Ugh that’s absolutely awful. That might in fact be the worst thing I’ve ever had.”

“You’ll feel ill for a short while,” Aldronya began, “But it’s better than dying.”

“So she is dead then?” Valkorius asked, tone strangely calm.

“Yes. Does that bother you?”

“No. She had betrayed the Nightborne for power…I merely regret the choices that led to this.” He turned to look at Aldronya, crossing his arms. “We are settled, Aldronya.”

“We are, perhaps…but there is still much I must do. I killed too many good people under Illuria and Erimonte’s orders, and their deaths do not make up for that fact.”

“So what will you do then?”

“Aid the rebels in the way I know best, and secure Cyrenia’s safety.” She paused, sighing. “Gentlemen it’s been awful, but thank you…Cyrenia is free because of you both. While I hope our paths never cross again, if they do drinks will be on me.”

“Farewell, Aldronya.”

“Yes, yes. Farewell, and I too hope we never cross again because I don’t think I’ll survive a second meeting with you.” Aldronya shot daggers at Aurelian, before snickering.

“We’ll see, outlander.” She gave a bow of her head before departing, leaving Aurelian and Valkorius alone at the front entrance. Valkorius turned, eyeing Aurelian briefly.

“Walk with me; there’s some things I’d like to talk about.” Aurelian raised a brow before nodding, motioning for Valkorius to lead on. “We won’t walk far; to the waterfront. There’s no demons near it right now, so we should be safe.”

“As you say, Valkorius. What is it you wish to talk about?”

“I am old, Aurelian…I was on death’s door millennia ago. My magic has aided in keeping me alive, but it will not last forever. The deaths of my children mean that your line is the last of the Indaris. This home?” he turned as they were walking, waving his hand towards the Indaris manor, “Is what remains of my legacy here, in Suramar.”

“So what are you saying?”

“You must do what my children could not do Aurelian. You cannot fail this house. Your recklessness and pride will cost you in the days to come, but you must remain steadfast. Dark shadows gather on the fringes, ready to bring the house crashing down. There will be others like Illuria and Corvayon; powerful individuals cursed with weakness of will, too scared to fight. You cannot submit. When I die, Aurelian, you and your family will be all that’s left of the Indaris.”

Aurelian had rarely considered that. Until a few months ago he was certain his family was all that remained of the Indaris legacy. While that had changed, events had once more resumed such a mindset. He was the lord of House Indaris whilst his brother remained in his coma. Yet what could he show for it? What great deeds of note could he share with the world? How could he ensure his line lasts another ten thousand years, much as Valkorius’ had? These were questions for another time, and so instead he asked a simple question of the elder Indaris.

“What do you suggest I do, then?”

“Fight. You must be ruthless and cold, but you must respect your enemy. You must command respect and fear, but never one over the other. And most important, you must do what is necessary for the house’s survival, even if it is the hard choices in life.” Aurelian was quiet then, as he mused over that. Finally he broke the silence, tilting his head some to look skywards.

“Earlier you said you had regrets over the events that transpired. What did you mean by that?” At that Valkorius went silent, hands folding together.

“No father wishes to see their children killed, Aurelian. We may do what is necessary, but it does not make it simple. I regret I could not be there to steer the course of my children away from serving the Legion’s interests…but what’s done is done. Now we must pick up the pieces of their mistakes.”

“So what will you do now then, Valkorius?”

“I will remain here in Suramar. Illuria and Erimonte were indeed only pawns of a much larger game here. As long as Elisande sits upon her throne, Suramar will never truly be free.”

“What of the manor? Will you take it over once all this is over?”

“Over?” Valkorius chuckled at that. “The war is never over. Enemies will always hammer at our gates, child. Even if the Legion is cast from Suramar, they yet remain beyond the shores and beyond the stars. No, the great game of our enemy will continue to play, and so I must always fight. But…perhaps I will take over the estate, rather than let it rot.”

“A grim outlook, I must confess. One day the fighting will stop.”

“With the Legion? Perhaps. But there is always another foe to face, is there not? Now what of you, Aurelian. Will you return to your home?”

“I think so, if only briefly to make sure things haven’t collapsed into chaos and to dissuade any worries of my fate. Oh, and to drink some proper wine of course; arcwine is far too sweet. After that though? I think I’ll return here.” At that Valkorius narrowed his brow in curiosity.

“Oh? I had thought you wished to leave this place.”

“I do…but it’s something Aldronya said, of all people. This fight is everyone’s fight. I cannot hide away, for something will always come to pull me in. Whether it be relatives or demons, I know I will find myself in the conflict once again. Besides, it gives me an excuse to walk these streets again.”

“Do I detect admiration in your tone?”

“Yes. Remove the demons, hostile guards and near deaths I am fond of this city’s beauty.” Perhaps surprisingly it was true; Aurelian had grown fond of Suramar. In many ways it reminded him of Silvermoon before the fall, when elegance and beauty ruled the streets rather than ruins and bitter memories.

“I’m not entirely surprised. This place is beautiful. Ah, you should have seen it before the Sundering; the crown jewel of civilization was Suramar, despite what Azshara might have said otherwise.” As Valkorius continued talking, Aurelian’s thoughts strayed back to his own lands. He did wish to return home, to hold onto all he held dear. In a way he was homesick of the grass covered plains of Illonia, or the white marble stone of his home. But most of all, he wished to see his betrothed again. Near death experiences had a funny way of making him feel that way, he realized, and he could not help but smile at the thought of it, and of her.

 Far, far away on the roads of the Gilded Lands, a single carriage travelled across the land despite the downpour rain. Lord Arion Moonsworn hated the rain, hearing the raindrops make a dull thud against the wood of his carriage. He was alone, arms crossed as he leaned against the cushion inside. The rain perhaps was fitting, considering his melancholy mood. Discussions with the Lady Calithiel…No simply Calithiel had been sour.

“Damned bitch…” Arion muttered as he sulked. The monumental arrogance Lord Indaris had in making his betrothed, not even his wife, ruler in his place despite her lack of any title had been insulting. Immediately more insulting was her rampant disregard for the way things were in the Gilded Lands. She was an outsider, and worse still one who was a nobody at best.

Yet he could not of course say any ill word of her publicly, and arguably so not even privately for the Lord Indaris had eyes everywhere in Moonsworn’s court. His house remained heavily indebted in many ways, least of all financially towards House Indaris. He was in Aurelian’s pocket, which meant he was in Calithiel’s pocket which meant he could not voice his discontent. It was infuriating, especially so for her disregard of his ‘personal issues’ as the woman had said.

He had gone to request aid in dealing with the local criminal group known as the Unbidden, who had in recent months become more of a nuisance towards House Moonsworn. Even in his throne of Waycrest they were a thorn in his side. He saw little of the riches that passed through his court as it made its way to the coffers of House Indaris, which meant some of his own people considered him merely a puppet to House Indaris. He could not provide fully for them, which meant he needed to be replaced.

He blinked, realizing in his thoughts that it had gone strangely dark in the carriage. He looked outside the window, realizing it had become pitch black. Bolting up, he looked around inside the carriage, hand moving to grab the door handle. As he pulled against it, the door creaked but did not budge. He was trapped inside, and despite knowing little in the way of magic the hair on the back of his neck rose up.

“Lord Arion Moonsworn.” A dark voice that seemed to shake the very carriage boomed in Arion’s ears, forcing him to place his hands over them as he closed his eyes. “Lord of House Moonsworn, and ruler of Sentinel Bay, no?” The voice became a whisper then, sweet and seductive. He opened his eyes then, jumping back against his seat in shock as he saw another occupant in the carriage.

“W-who are you?” It was another elf, clean of features with oily black hair cut short. The man looked greasy, as if touching him would stain the hand.

“Consider me an interested party.”

“Interested? In what? What are you?” At that the elf smiled, revealing an impossible amount of teeth. Arion’s blood froze in his skin, the man cowering against the corner of his carriage.

“Now now, Arion I’m not here to harm you. In fact, I’m here to help you.”

“Help me?”

“Yes. We have much to discuss, and a long carriage ride to Waycrest. Relax, for what i’m about to offer you I know you can’t resist.”

[doublerumnukacola]

Distraction

Sole left Daisy’s store with a sad wave. It had been a difficult few weeks, hell it had been difficult since she left the damn vault… But her mind quickly brushed away the thought, protecting her from dwelling on it.

She was tired of the sights and sounds of Goodneighbor. The excursion this morning had been refreshing, she’d almost felt like her old self. There was something cathartic about sniping a Super Mutant suicider and watching it take out five of its closest friends. Maybe another stroll through the ruins was needed. Maybe she’d stop by the old North Church, there was usually an errand or two to do there.

The ruins were unnaturally quiet. She'd seen to that earlier. Perhaps she’d been a little overzealous. She continued towards the Boston Common. Maybe she could find a quiet spot to collect her thoughts and count her caps. There were a lot of both.

Just then she heard the shift of gravel behind her. She continued, feigning ignorance, but glancing around her using peripheral vision. It was lucky she’d planned this detour beforehand, Boston Common was ideal for unwanted company.

She continued on, towards Swans pond. She could hear the hesitation in their steps now. The white roof of the ancient bandstand was well in view, as well as the infamous sunken swans. Sole could have launched a fat man into this lake any time she wanted, she’d considered it once or twice as well, but she didn't for this reason in particular. She stood at the fence around the murky pond. She bent down, looking for a suitable stone. Sole smiled to herself, and activated her stealth boy...

Hiding out in the Boylston club, she could still hear the behemoths roars, and the crash of lobbed debris. Who ever had been tailing her would be a million miles away by now if they had any sense. Not many had the reckless sense of adventure that would lead to exploring the area, much less find this place.

She sat on one of the dusty armchairs, amongst the former club members. It was a macabre scene, skeletons in decaying suits, some with cigars still clenched in their jaw. Still, aside from the ruckus outside, it was peaceful. There were a few wine bottles dotted around, some still filled, but she knew better than to indulge. After all, she’d snooped around on the terminal behind the counter, and it wasn’t the bomb that finished these gentleman off.

After a while the roars subsided, the behemoth settling back into the pond, returning to their slumber. She'd have to be extra quiet about leaving, couldn't risk waking them again.

She was starting to drift off in the chair, when the front door creaked open, and shut quietly. Her heart rate shot up instantly. Who would come here? Who would be so stupidly diligent in their surveillance? It didn’t match the M.O. of the institute, and certainly not of any raider group she’d pissed off…

“Honey, I'm hooome!” A familiar voice sang out quietly, poking their head around the corner and into the lounge, sunglasses catching the shafts of light.

“Oh dear, you look so haggard. I’ll bet traffic home was just murder.” Sole joked, her heart rate returning. She should have known it was him.

“Oh you wouldn't believe it! Is this seat taken?” Deacon smiled, plopping himself on the couch, careful not to disturb the skeleton beside him. “Some jerk nearly cut me off, literally. A whole car just came at me.” Sole laughed, a little embarrassed.

“Really? Because I had a creep tail me home, had to ask him politely, but firmly, to buzz off.” She countered.

“Alright that’s fair.” He admitted with a grin. “It’s just been difficult to get ahold of you lately.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been in the same place for a month. Not too hard to track someone in Goodneighbor.” Sole snorted.

“Really?” Deacon asked, “All I’ve seen around Goodneighbor is some mopey Vault dweller in your clothes. This morning was the first time I’ve seen you in weeks.” There was silence. He had a point, but he could have made it without being a dick. He took a breath.

“Soooo wanna talk about it?” Another silence. Finally she sighed.

“It was a couple weeks ago, or so people tell me. Feels more like months. We’d just gotten a cure for Duncan, his kid. I knew he’d go back and see his son, but I’d hoped we could do it together… And that we’d do it after we found Shaun...” She paused. “When he left, I kept expecting a letter… A message in a bottle… Even a  fucking smoke signal would be nice…” She gave a small bitter smile. “I forgot how nice it was to swear, at least sober anyway.”

“I’d heard about that,” Deacon noted. “Always struck me as strange that a guy willing to run with ruthless mercenaries would avoid swearing.” Sole shot him a look, he held up his hands in surrender and made a motion of zipping his lips.

“Anyways…. Nothing came. After a week I stopped checking up on Daisy. After two I started to drink. Four days on and I hadn't done anything but cry and drink.” Deacon mimed his comments on the situation, wringing his fist on the corner of his eye with one hand as if sobbing, and with the other mimed chugging a bottle. It was as impressive as it was irritating. Sole ignored him all the same and continued. “Hancock picked me up, gave me a job, I sobered up, and I'm not looking back.”

“Except this afternoon when you came crying to Daisy again.” Deacon added, receiving another sharp look from Sole.

“A moment of weakness.” She admitted. “But hope’s not an easy thing to let go of.”

“The prick used you to save his son.” Deacon said bluntly. His jovial demeanor falling for a moment. “Gold star for motive, dying kid is pretty good justification, but he still played you.”

“No…” She denied softly.

“Going out to kill Winlock and Barnes was a test to see how far you’d go for him. Killing a few feral and grabbing a cure were nothing compared to taking on a fleet of gunners.” Deacon continued, a bitter edge to his voice now. “But don't worry, the sick kid part was true. I checked up on that through quite a few channels. Couldn't believe he wasn't just selling it-” Deacon was cut off by Sole’s hand striking them across the face, breathless with anger.

“You’re wrong…” She countered sharply, eyes welling up. “Sure, he left. And I don't expect him to come back, or understand why, but he loved me. And I… I loved him…” She glared down at Deacon, who was rubbing the red mark on his face. He felt lucky she hadn't just shot him.

“...That was real. Not a manipulation… Not a lie…” She spat at the floor beside him. “ But I know that's something of an alien concept to you.” He stood up, towering a good half foot over her. She stood her ground.

“An alien concept, huh?” He said thoughtfully, rubbing out the last of the soreness, even in her rage he could feel that she held back. “Maybe. But a liar knows a liar.” He started towards the front door. “And you can't lie to me, Sole.” He continued softly. “You didn't really love him. No matter what you tell yourself.” He dodged another swing, letting her fist connect with the doorway, she winced in pain, clutching her damaged fist.

“You can be a real bastard sometimes…” She hissed. “What makes you such an authority on the subject of my love life? Last I checked you wanted nothing to do with it.” A smirk flashed across his face, sunglasses glinting.

“We both know that was just a crush for you. Fresh out of the Vault, you’re bound to fall for the first handsome man that doesn't try to disembowel you.” He said knowingly.

“What about Preston?” Sole countered with a smile.

“OK you were bound to fall for the second handsome-” He tried again.

“Sturges.” She added.

“He is a very pretty man…” Deacon agreed.

“Arturo Rodriguez.”

“The gunshop guy in Diamond city? I mean admittedly I think he’s been on everyone's Christmas list for awhile…”

“Nick Valentine.”

“Not being sythnist but…”

“Danse.”

“Not being asshole-ist but…”

“Tinker Tom.”

“Ooh I’ll have to tell him you said that.”

“Don't bother, he’s too in love with MILA.” Deacon waved his hands in surrender.

“OK I get it, you resisted many a handsome man before you fell for me.” He admitted. “But it was still just a crush. Happens to the best of us. Working long hours in high pressure situations is bound to cause a few sparks to fly.”

“Tell that to a heartbroken Agent Charmer, who launched herself into every available mission and picked up every dead-drop possible to get their mind off their emotionally detached mentor.” Sole started jokingly, slowly growing more dejected with every word, and finishing with a weak chuckle and forced smile.

“And look at Charmer now!” He said enthusiastically. “All grown up and moving on to bigger and better heartbreaks!” Sole smile became more genuine. “You’ll find someone, Sole, but in the meantime just refocus on the Railroad, refocus on Shaun. It takes a lot to keep our little family going, but we’re so close to bringing down the institute and finding him . We can't afford anymore delays.” Sole was quiet. “Clearing out around Goodneighbor was a big help, helped us send out a few packages that had been sitting around. Keep up like that and You’ll get Agent of the month in no time.” He leaned in and smirked. “It's been Carington 6 months in a row, so you got a lot of competition.”

I used to think I could write Deacon well, until I read Thick as Theives by Kyokaen. Curse that beautiful person.

Anyway, for what spilled this mess, click here

For some hot mayor/sniper action click here (spoiler: Its not)

For something I had to write to write this, click here

For some hot mayor/Amari action click here (spoiler: Its not)

For issues regarding your fuckmaster 300 vibrator, please hold.