#she. looks like a ghost. in all the memories. she’s misty and foggy and nothing but vague blurred shapes. she’s no longer real

[ozzyfromthecafeteria]

when will the body stop keeping the score.

[dirt-cup-draco]

Bucky x Reader- Yours

a...ging stops at 18 until you find your soulmate so the two of you can grow old together.  d...amage done to a person also translates into their soulmate’s body (cuts, bruises and all) 

Thank you @starofthedawn! love our bucky boi :’)

Time had become something that simply passed you by. The decades skipped and hopped, one to another and you remained stuck in the body of a young woman that had aged far beyond her looks. The soulmates that aged, the ones that found one another, they watched you with pitying eyes as they saw the heavy weight behind your eyes. It was clear the excitement of waiting on someone meant just for you had taken it’s toll and you weren’t sure if you’d ever find that special someone to grow old with. 

It wasn’t just the time that had chipped at the hope you’d held onto in the 1940s when every one of your peers waited for their soulmate and your parents were hoping you’d find yours before even a week passed. Everyone was eager and you had been too. You had wanted to know everything about whoever was out there. At first you hadn’t wanted to, thinking them a troublemaker, but you were certain they were just clumsy. It’s why you always ended up with a nasty shiner that you had to try and ice down or a split lip your mother helped you nurse. 

When the war started gathering up every capable young man across the country you were certain that you’d lose your soulmate, whether by distance or warfare. It was something you feared once- never finding your soulmate. So you had done the only sane, or not so sane thing, you’d offered yourself up to help the soldiers as their nurse. Every night you went to bed relieved that your soulmate had escaped another day seemingly unharmed, besides the deep set ache in your bones but you had soon forgotten if it was his or yours. 

The war had ended and things from there grew more bleak. Surely you’d know if he had been one of the casualties, wouldn’t you? But doubt crept into your mind. You remember laying on your cot one evening when you found a moment to rest, mind gone foggy from the days constant movement and too little time to yourself. You felt like bricks laid out against the stiff cotton and it was a struggle to even twitch your finger. 

Suddenly, the air was knocked from your lungs so forcefully youd choked out a cough just to remind yourself how to start breathing again. Your head began to ache terribly and your arm held a terrible weight to it. You tried to brush it off, you were just tired or maybe your other half was just feeling a bit lethargic that day- nothing serious. You had let your eyes fall shut but your rest was interupted with a vicious burning that made you scream aloud, eyes burning with tears as you clawed at the junction of your shoulder and arm. 

You shuddered, pulling your cardigan tighter around you as you remembered the night you’d felt unimaginable pain. You hadn’t really felt the same since. Disconnected, odd. Maybe it was a sign that he was gone, that you’d be stuck mourning and living out one existence after the other. You’d tried asking, the few willing to share, what it felt like to lose your soulmate whether it be before or after they’d met but no one could truly put the agony into words. 

Every so often you felt dull aches, a sore jaw from clenching too long, a sharp pain at the back of your skull... But it never lasted and as the world rocketed itself into a new age you believed that you were crazy and that these aches were just a phantom to remind you of a love you’d never get to experience. 

“Don’t look so glum,” Your boss Helen laughed, elbowing your side playfully and pulling you from your thoughts as you trudged through the back door. You tore your hat from your head, blowing a lose strand of hair from your eyes as you gave her a grim smile. 

“How could I look anything other than delighted when I know I’ll be in my lovely place of work for ten hours making grumpy people their caffeine fix for the day?” You teased back, a small grin working its way onto your face. Despite the decades spent wondering where half of your heart was, you had still found people and things to love. 

One of those people was Helen and one of those things was her lovely cafe. She’d employed you nearly three years ago and while you hadn’t aged a single day you were beginning to see the slight shift in her. A gray hair or two could be found in her amber locks, wrinkles at her mouth, eyes and forehead making her look...weathered in a way. Like a well loved book. She had stories full of excitement and happiness and more importantly, a soulmate. 

“You’re a brat but you’re my brat, now get out there and work your magic,” Helen commanded and you had to tear your eyes away from her. She was gorgeous, she was happy, she was loved, she was whole. 

The day went like clockwork, you clocked in at 6 and greeted the morning dump of sour sleepy people. The rush got you far enough along that by the time you were done cleaning your station your coworker James had punched in and you were set free to go on a fifteen minute break. It went too quickly and then you were half goofing off and half doing dishes until you took a lunch, your feet aching in your shoes but your mind gone pleasantly numb. 

Work kept you from the sink hole that had appeared in your chest. 

You hummed a tune, one always stuck at the back of your mind that played when you let yourself sink into the comfortable rhythm of cleaning the plates returned to you by customers who needed a nutritious or indulgent pick me up with their daily espresso or latte. The clouds had blanketed the sky and there was a familiar chill in the cafe that made the warm sink water lull you even further into your peace of mind. 

Now seven hours into your shift you were feeling eager to get home and kick up your feet but anxious to experience the dread that eventually seeped in. Your company had been enough for decades, or you had learned to let yourself be enough, but it didn’t end the longing of wanting someone there who knew you better than you knew yourself. 

“Y/N!” Came Jame’s clear as a bell voice, the echo of his tenor bumping against the glass wall you’d built in your mind to keep everything out. 

“Whatdya want?” You hollered to the front of the shop, drying off a mug as you took a few steps through the archway. James was at the back of the shop, cleaning up a spill and there was a customer hovering near the front counter. Their head was bent low and their shoulders hunched up to their shoulders. They wore a hoodie over their head and their hair cloaked their face, you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger but realized the man at the front must be why James had called for your help.

 “Oh!” You exclaimed, setting the cleaned mug on the edge of the counter as you approached the register. “S-sorry, what can I get for you?” You stumbled over your words and had to shake your head. It seemed you’d gotten a little too lost in your thoughts as you had trouble coming back to the present. 

“Anything with caramel,” Came a voice that warmed you from the inside out. Your eyes snapped out and you found you were trapped by icy eyes that held nothing but a gentle shyness in them. The stranger was strong, his appearance almost intimidating, but behind the curtain of thick hair was an almost boyish face. But yet it was his eyes that you kept going back to as you tried to remember where you even were.

They were the loveliest eyes you’d ever seen, but they were the saddest you’d ever encountered. You didn’t think you’d ever see such a lost look on anyone other than your own reflection in the mirror. Your heart stuttered uncomfortably in your chest and you fumbled to take the man’s order on the register. You gave up completely and spun around on your heel once you realized you’d been staring too long. 

In your sudden movement though you had caught the edge of the already forgotten mug and it toppled to the ground. 

“Fuck!” you cursed, immediately dropping to the ground to pick up the shards. You felt too warm, your head foggy and body floating yet heavy. Your chest was tight and you couldn’t put a name on the feeling. Maybe you were having a heart attack. You’d gone too long without a soulmate and time had finally caught up to your ageless body. 

You were once again trapped in your mind as you fumbled with the sharp pieces, inhaling sharply as you cut yourself. 

“Double fuck!” You whined, squeezing your finger tight, trying to stop the flow of blood as you dropped the pieces back to the floor. 

“Jesus, Y/N, you feelin’ alright?” James asked, coming to your side. You simply nodded and popped your finger into your mouth. 

“H-he wants caramel,” you said airily, nodding back to the stranger but when you looked back at him his eyes had gone wide, hood pulled back from the top of his head. You were nearly about to ask if he’d seen a ghost but then you saw the liquid ruby gathering at the tip of his own finger. The same one you had cut. 

Your breath had been stolen from your lungs and your legs went out from under you as you sank against the counter behind you. 

“Y/N?” Helen asked, the commotion grabbing her attention all the way from her office. “Sweetheart what’s wrong have you eaten? Can I get you-”

“I- um just thinks she’s a little in shock,” Came that lovely voice once more and you felt a bit more grounded. He was much closer now, having come around the counter, brushing his cut finger against his jeans. It was only now you noticed one of his hands caught the light and revealed a prosthetic. 

Your shoulder suddenly ached with memories and your eyes welled up. “Where have you been?” You croaked, hands shaking and knees still weak. 

He sank down to kneel in front of you, ignoring both Helen and James’ protests to be mindful of the shattered mug. His calloused hands were large and gentle as they gathered yours up. His own eyes grew misty as he took you in. 

“I know I’m late, it’s a long story so why don’t I just start with a hello?” He asked, helping you to your feet. 

You laughed a bubbly and nearly hysterical laugh that made you feel lightheaded all over again but he just held on tighter to you and you never wanted to be let go again. “Maybe you could start with your name too,” You teased and you felt nearly as breathless as you’d been the night you’d only known pain. 

You supposed that was going to be a part of his long story and your heart ached already at the thought of him experiencing any of what you’d only felt a fraction of. 

“I’m Bucky, and what can I call a beautiful gal like you?” Bucky grinned, his flesh hand releasing your arm so he could brush his fingertips against your cheek in wonderment. 

“Yours, I’m all yours,” You choked out, a watery grin painted onto your face.

Time had become something that simply passed you by, but now you were ready to begin the rest of your life. 

[browniefox]

The Spectral Turnabout 2/?

Chapter 2! Last chapter was about Phoenix when he got introduced to the spectral world, this one is about Miles :D

oOo

Miles passed out in the elevator with a scream ringing through the air, one that will haunt his dreams, haunt his footsteps, haunt his every moment for the next fifteen years.

When he woke up, his world had been turned on its head.

When he’s a little older, Miles goes through the events over and over and over until the story makes sense, until he knows the events forwards and backwards. It goes like this:

Miles got into the elevator with his dad and Yanni Yogi. There was an earthquake. The elevator became stuck. The oxygen ran low. Yanni Yogi started attacking his dad. Miles threw the gun. A shot rang through the elevator, and the scream chased Miles in darkness as he passed out. And Miles goes crazy.

The days after The Event are a blur, are foggy, and they tell him it’s from the trauma mixed with the lack of oxygen. What Miles does know is that when he’s capable of forming memories again, he sees things that aren’t really there. Creatures, monsters that lurk in the corners, brightly colored mist coming off of them. An energy that Miles could see coming off of himself in muted purple waves. 

They said Yanni Yogi’s lawyer had him plead insanity. Brain damage due to the lack of oxygen. There was a precedent for it.

Miles was an orphan for six months before Manfred von Karma adopted him. Miles’ used those six months to perfect ignoring what he could see. He didn’t want to think about how he’d be treated, how people would look at him, if they knew something had snapped in his head from The Event. Even more so once he was under Von Karma’s roof. Imperfection was not tolerated. So Miles would be perfect. He was perfect.

He was a perfect child, who most certainly didn’t see things that weren’t there. 

oOo

Pess was the first spirit to ever speak to Miles. 

It’d been an entire year since the accident. It wasn’t always easy to act completely normal. When the figments of his imagination actually come into contact with him, he felt phantom pressure, and a time or two they’d run into him with enough force to bowl him completely over. No, that was wrong, they didn’t run him over. Miles tripped or something, and for some reason his brain had decided to place a make-believe monster as the reason.

Pess had slipped into Miles bedroom in the evening, straight through the walls. She had landed on the floor, curling up into a tight little ball in the corner. Miles hadn’t thought much of her at first, aside from allowing himself to openly track her movement. He was in the safety of his room, he’d allow himself to look. 

This one imaginary monster was shaped like a very curly-furred greyhound, if greyhounds had tails longer than their bodies, three pairs of legs, and wings instead of ears. The back two pairs were bird feet instead of paws, and there was another set of wings tightly closed onto the monster’s back.The colored mist coming off of her matched Miles’ own to a ‘T’, but something looked off about it. 

Miles shot a look to his door, making sure it was still closed, and then for extra good measure he locked it and pulled the curtains shut over the window. Then, he got a little closer to the creature that wasn’t real, staring. The mist usually came off of things like steam off of warm water, but for this creature it was also coming from spots that closely resembled would. She had gouges in her sides and bite marks on her legs, long scratches down her snout. 

The hallucination opened one of her eyes and then flinched back at how close he was. Miles responded in kind, head whipping around to check the door once more. He felt like he’s standing at the precipice of something dangerous here, of showing so much acknowledgement to something that isn’t really there, but his curiosity still has a hold on him. 

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t realize a spectral lived here, I-I’ll, um, I’ll…” The thing got to her feet, all six of them, and shook her coat.

“Wait…!” Miles whispered, and then slapped a hand over his mouth, going bright red and shame filling him. This was too much, talking to her was a step too far. But then, she actually stopped, and turned her big and warm brown eyes on him. “Wh… what did you call me?”

“A spectral? You are one, right? In fact, we match.” She said. Miles couldn’t deny that.

“I don’t know what that is.” He admitted, sitting back. Why would a hallucination use a word he doesn’t know? 

“It means you can see us.” She explained. 

“‘Us’?”

“Spirits.” 

Miles looked at the door again and raised a hand to bite one of his nails before yanking the hand down.

“Come on,” He said and crawled underneath his bed and the hallucination - the spirit? - followed after him, “Tell me more about spirits.” 

The spirit introduced herself as Pess, and she explained how spirits weren’t ghosts, really, but more like the conglomerations of leftover energy from dead things. Spectrals were people who were still alive but could see them. There were very few of them, to the point that Miles was the first one Pess had ever met. 

It seemed like far too convenient an explanation. Oh, yes, Miles wasn’t crazy, he was just special, like a character out of a book his teacher’s used to read out loud to the class before he switched schools. 

“I don’t believe you.” Miles told her right to her face. “Ghosts don’t exist.” 

“Oh.” Pess rested her head on her front paws, looking over at him sadly. “Well, why can’t they?”

“If they did, then…” Miles trailed off. He opened his mouth and closed it, unable to form the words. He didn’t like thinking about The Incident, and definitely not talking about it. But… but if spirits were real, if ghosts were real, then why did Yanni Yogi get proven innocent? Why would Misty Fey claim to have channeled his dad, and his dad to have said it was Yanni Yogi.

No, Miles needed to remember to focus on what was real, what was physical, what he had evidence for. 

Pess seemed to understand anyway. The wings on her head closed up tight and her tail swept over to rest on Miles’ hand. It felt soft and warm. No, it was the heater kicking on somewhere, a gust of warm air, and the broken part of his mind had decided to make the hallucination align with it just so. 

“I need to go to bed.” Miles said out loud. He did not say it to Pess, because Pess wasn’t real.

“Okay,” Pess asid, and while Miles crawled out from under the bed, she simply phased right through it to sit on his bed and then settled on top of the blanket. She didn’t so much as rumble the comforter, because of course she didn’t. “Uh, Spectral, I don’t want to bother you, but…?”

Miles knew he should set himself straight again. He’d been working on ignoring what wasn’t there for a year now, he should be better than this. And yet, Miles found himself sighing and looking at her. 

“But?”

“Spirits can heal on their own, but they heal faster around a spectral with a color that matches their own. C-could…? Could I stay here? Until I’m better?” She begged. She had the puppy-dog eyes down pat. 

Miles cast another look to the door, clenching his hands into fists until his fingernails were embedded into his palms. 

“Okay. Yeah, okay. Just until you’re better.” 

oOo

Pess didn’t leave after she was healed up.

Sometime between that night and the time wounds had closed up, Miles had become used to her presence. One would think that having a figment of his imagination that he did acknowledge at time would make things worse, and that was what Miles had feared at first, but he’d found he didn’t deny the comfort of cuddling close to her at night, and she never complained if he ever hugged her too tight when he had nightmares. She followed him everywhere, at first so she might heal up quicker, but Miles found himself enjoying her constant presence at his side. 

It certainly made him feel a little less lonely at school. He hadn’t had much luck yet making friends. Manfred von Karma insisted that Miles didn’t need to think about things like that. Miles nodded to that in perfect agreement.

Pess was very soft, very nice, and very excitable. She always seemed able to pick up on when Miles was starting to get anxious and would come over and rub her face against his hand. He couldn’t say anything to her, or look at her, or purposefully try to touch her. At least, not out in public. He only allowed himself to indulge in that sort of thing when he was sure nobody else could see him, and even then he only ever talked to her in low and quiet whispers both he and pess could barely hear, let alone anybody who might try to listen in. 

He asked her, once, if she’d ever wanted to leave. She must’ve done something before being here, being with him. She’d stopped chasing a smaller ‘spirit’ around his room and looked over him, cocking her head, a doggish grin on her face. 

“Why would I leave? I have you now.”

He wondered if she’d been alone before she’d met him. He didn’t ask. He felt he knew the answer. 

He tried to convince himself over the years that he was passed needing her there for him. She was nothing more than an imaginary friend. He got older, he shouldn’t need it her, he shouldn’t like having her there. A couple times he’d even managed to find somewhere far and secluded and yell at her to go away, to leave, to let him finally be closer to perfect.

Both times, Pess did leave, tail between her legs. 

Both times, it hadn’t sat well with Miles and he’d gone out late at night searching the city and calling her name until he found her. 

The older he got, the more he realized he didn’t ‘leak’ spectral energy constantly. It surged particularly when he had intense emotions. He seeked that out, stifling his emotions, burying them so he came off self-assured. He asked if there was a big reason for the energy, telling himself he was just curious of what his mind would come up with to explain it, and pess told him she wasn’t really sure. She knew spirits were made of it, and she’d heard rumors of spectrals being able to do something about that, but again, he was the first spectral she’d ever met. 

The habit of her accompanying him to court came about naturally. Where he went, Pess went, and where did he need her more than during a case? 

Miles found a balance of almost-nearly perfect that he told himself was Perfection. 

It had to do.

[windup-dragoon]

【Ｔｈｅ　Ｔｉｇｅｒ　Ｐｒｉｎｃｅ　           ＆　ｔｈｅ　Ｓｔｒａｙ】

𝘎𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘕𝘰 𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘦

Word Count: 3,042

Hien x Kiri

Summer had only just begun in Yanxia’s rolling landscape. Mornings begun in a heavy haze of fog that lifted from the One River. The sheet of fog was then cleared away by the rising of the sun, soon followed by the humid heat that left cicadas singing well into the evening. 

It was on one such foggy morning that lead a young boy to the docks of the enclave. Armed with naught but a hunting knife and his own memory to guide him through the morning gloom along winding pathways, he went about his mission. Everyone would still be asleep, no doubt. Not until the cry of the cock would the others rise to greet the day. That was precisely why he traversed such an eerie morning. 

The ferrymen had spoken days before of a ghost that plagued the docks. Several had laid claim to having witnessed its appearance first hand. At first such fairy tales were dismissed, not even the mind of a child could be so easily swayed by men who spent their evenings in cups. But when the soldiers who kept watch over the enclave whispered of the ghost, armed to the teeth with rifles and science, he knew a thorough investigation was in order. 

“A ghost? Not likely.” Shun mused to himself as he marched on, into the thickest blanket of mist. Eyes of pale jade searched the silhouettes around him. A boat of Garlean make loomed yalms away, a hulking shadow but not worth causing a fright. Unloaded cargo stacked three high but hardly resembling a specter. Unless that specter was Gosetsu, perhaps. Still he pressed on, unfazed by his findings thus far. 

The beat of his sandals against stone came to a halt at the far end of the pier. Melodic in the stillness of morning babbled the One River before him. With the mist hanging like curtains across the waters, he could scarcely see the towering gates that separated Doma’s Castle from the enclave. Gates that kept his father imprisoned in his own residence. Shun felt a pang in his chest, one that he swallowed and buried deep for now. If only he were stronger. Old enough to stand a chance and fight against those who caged his countrymen. Who kept him from his father. But what could a boy accomplish? 

“… No spirit here…” He whispered to himself decidedly, turning on his heel to proceed back the way he came. The guards would be coming through soon to deal with the latest shipment. If he were spotted snooping, it would only cause trouble for Gosetsu later. But as he spun, his eyes snapped wide, all the air in his lungs suddenly sapped from him. 

Hardly even a shadow amid the mist she stood, a small outline of a child. Her dress and hair all but melded with the fog that encompassed them. If not for her piercing eyes and tan skin, she would have been the mist incarnate. 

Shun, shocked to his core, could only stare at the ghostly figure who stood a stone toss away. Neither could pry their eyes from the other. 

He had expected a widow mourning the loss of a sailor husband lost at sea, or perhaps a soldier out for revenge. No one had made mention that the ghost of their stories had been a child of his own age. 

“G-Greetings…?” The boy stammered out. He had never imagined he would truly discover the fabled ghost haunting the docks. What to do after finding her had been a task he left blank up until now. Do ghosts speak? Or wail? Cry perhaps? Could they understand the language of mortals? 

Still a bit shaken by his findings, Shun stepped forward. The girl matched his step but in reverse, keeping the distance between them. 

“Do you speak, Spirit?” He did his best to keep a level voice. He couldn’t risk the guards hearing him and letting the shade before him escape. 

Eyes of two different hues stared intently back at him. Or mayhap she was missing an eye? Perhaps blind in one? With the veil of mist between them, he was uncertain of everything. 

“Come now, I won’t harm you. You can trust me.” Soft, delicate. The way Gosetsu had told him to speak when addressing frightened animals. The lull of a tender voice could quell even a fierce rainbow tiger. One only needed to find the patience inside themselves and be earnest in their intentions. Shun extended a hand. 

“My name is Shun. No harm will come to you, you have my word.” 

Instead of a response, the figure before him collapsed without a sound, crumpling to the stone path beneath her. 

— 

“You should leave spirit hunting to professionals, Shun.” Gosetsu teased with a hum of laughter. 

“How so? If not for my bravery, the docks would still be visited by her, would they not?” Shun protested before taking a hardy bite of rice. 

Gentle rays of morning sun had begun to filter through gaps in the curtains. The enclave had been relieved of its mystifying morning fog, now left to glitter in the morning dew until the summer heat evaporated it. Already the air hung heavy with humidity. 

Gosetsu breathed a sigh. The boy and the Roe shared breakfast together in a small residence, made smaller still by a futon still in use beneath the window. The ghost from the pier laid on her back, eyes open but glassed over as she bore holes into the ceiling. 

“I am afraid not. She collapsed from starvation. The ghost stories would have ended for a different reason.” Gosetsu filled a bowl of rice, patting it softly into place while glancing back at the girl. 

Any appetite Shun had moments ago had vacated, the rumbling of his stomach now replaced with an uneasy feeling. How long had she been out there? Starving and looking for crumbs? It was no wonder the guards complained; she had been snatching food when no one would spy her in the early mornings. But even that seemed not enough. 

The giant roe carefully crossed the room, dish in hand, but stopped suddenly. Shun spun around immediately at the sound of a hiss. 

Despite having hardly the strength to stand on her own two feet, the girl had stirred in her bedding, a hunched but upright position. Her eyes were but daggers beneath thick lashes and unkempt misty white hair. Like a stray hound threatened by the roes presence, her upper lip curled while she snarled. 

“They had it wrong.” Shun announced while blinking curiously. “She’s no ghost but a girl possessed!” 

“Shun!” Gosetsu wheezed. 

“She made no noise at me before. You frighten her, Gosetsu!” The boy scrambled to his feet and took a stance beside his guardian. He stole away the bowl and chopsticks before nudging Gosetsu aside. He obliged, seating himself back at their table. 

“Be at ease. I have given my word that nothing will harm you and I mean to keep it. Remember?” Shun made no attempt to advance yet. Instead he kept eye contact with the girl and lowered his voice once more. 

Her eyes momentarily drifted between Shun and Gosetsu. The feral sounds rumbling from her throat had settled.

“He may be a terrifying sight to behold, but he is a friend and not your enemy.” Somewhere behind Shun, Gosetsu made a scoff but allowed him to continue without interruption. “Pray, accept this food. You must be in tremendous pain.” Shun stepped forward. The girl recoiled with narrowed eyes. “Nothing poisonous. See?” Armed with the chopsticks, Shun made a show of taking a bite himself and eating it. He took a step closer, taking another small bite. 

Before long he had crossed the length of the room, even managing to kneel at the foot of the borrowed futon with the bowl of rice extended as peace offering between himself and the former ghost. Although the tension of her shoulders never ceased, the girl accepted the bowl with two shaking hands. 

Gosetsu, who had watched the whole display in shocked silence, smiled. “Color me impressed, Shun. You could be a beast tamer.” 

Shun flashed him a smile in return, proud of his own accomplishment. “She is no beast, Gosetsu. Just a frightened girl.” He glanced back to her, immediately sighing. “However, it would seem she has no idea what chopsticks are.” 

— 

“Truly? Chopsticks are not difficult to use.” A small raen girl with hair of ebony commented, swinging her feet through the warm waters of the Ruby Sea. 

A trio of children sat perched on the rough, weathered stones of a tide pool. Shun had a collection of stones in his hands, casting them off into the vast expanse of sea before them. Yugiri thoughtfully watched as the stones skipped off the surface while their newest member laid on her stomach, elbow deep in the tide pool and exploring the waters with her hands. 

“Gosetsu has been teaching her. She would have no better teacher.” Shun announced with a grin. 

“A relief then that you should not be her mentor.” Hummed Yugiri, stifling a laugh. Shun croaked, fumbling with the rock he had attempted to throw. It thumped into the waters only yalms away. 

The girl perked her head at the sound, blinking curiously as if she had missed a jump of an eager fish. 

“Has she no name still?” The raen peered over at the girl with snowy hair, with locks so long they dipped into the tide pool and blended with the pale sand like paint on a canvas. 

“No. We brought her to see healers. They called her something but Gosetsu explained that she refuses to speak. She can make sounds and understands when others are speaking, yet she tells us nothing. Not even her name.” 

“Will you name her?” Yugiri tilted her head. 

Shun paused a moment to regard one of the stones in his mass collection. A white piece of sandstone, completely smooth and oval from thousands upon thousands of years beaten by the ocean currents. He shook his head, placing the stone on the girls head where it quickly slipped into the tide pool with a splash. 

“No. One day she will trust me enough to tell me.” The remainder of the stones were discarded into the pool before the children. Shun stooped low beside the two girls, laughing when the former ghost submersed her entire head into the pool, her hair adrift like bleached seaweed. 

— 

Birds sang gentle tunes that afternoon while cicadas cried all around them. The hills were alive with yanxia’s wildlife. From the smallest of insects to the massive rainbow tigers that stalked the rocky terrain, every form of life enjoyed the cool shade of the cliff side that day. Just beyond their perch, Shun and the girl could see pools of glittering water, interrupted by pale diamond crystals that struck out from the earth. 

They sat shoulder to shoulder in the shade, nibbling on onigiri provided by Gosetsu for their afternoon adventure. Weeks had already come and gone since his first encounter with the ghost. Never had he dreamed he would have an opportunity to sit so close to her without some form of growl or protest. Yet in her silence, he enjoyed her company. 

“See that?” Using the back of his hand to clean rice from his cheek, Shun quickly pointed out a figure emerging from a thicket of bamboo. A tiger slinking its way out of its territory to greet another of its kind. “That’s a Rainbow Tiger. They’re really dangerous, so be careful around them.” 

The girl had stopped eating to watch the creatures. Nothing but coiled muscle and snapping fangs. She leaned a bit closer to Shun, squinting against the afternoon sun. But when the creatures met one another with a gentle headbutt and a cheek nuzzle, she looked bewildered. 

“They’re mates. It’s how they greet each other.” Shun explained once he noticed her obvious confusion. She had expected them to fight. After all, he had just mentioned they were ferocious beasts. “They stay together for life, at least Gosetsu says they do. I am no expert.” He laughed, moving to take another bite of his snack. 

Except he was interrupted. A small but calloused hand cupped his cheek, encouraging him to look over at her. Shun’s pale eyes widened when the girl leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his. Almost as quickly as it had happened, she pulled herself away, returning to her abandoned lunch. 

“Yeah. We’ll stay together too. I won’t let anyone take you away. You have my word.” The boy grinned. 

— 

Rain. The enclave was darkened by the rain, all the houses closed up tight to stay warm and dry. Lightning split the sky before thunder rumbled. But it wasn’t the rain that made the day miserable. 

“Take her away?! Why?!” 

The docks were crowded despite the onslaught of rain. Garlean men stood in a uniform line, weapons of all sort at their ready. Behind them was a newly returned boat, metal and ugly compared to the make of Doman boats. 

“She’s been sold off, boy. There’s no need to keep an orphan around.” One of the soldiers spat with a twisted grin. 

Gosetsu, ever at Shun’s side, stepped forward. He towered over the soldiers, using his stature to impose on them. “No one has right to sell another living creature! Especially a small child!” 

The girl in question, her white hair slicked against her cheeks and brow, snarled at the men lined up before them. 

The soldiers were here to claim her. Since having been discovered, it hadn’t sat well with others that an orphan stalked the streets. Domans had begun to whisper, wondering where her mother and father were. It was clear to them she hadn’t been born in Doma, had the Garleans abandoned another lost child to them? Talk of this sort needed to be quelled. The only solution? Be rid of the menace that caused the stir in the first place. 

“Orders are orders,” Another soldier shrugged. 

Shun, who had been shocked into silence at this sudden uproar, finally gathered himself. They wanted to take her away? Then they would certainly have to find her. With a spin of his heel, Shun grabbed the girls wrist and threatened to flee. 

“You cannot have her!” The young prince shouted over another distant crack of thunder. He pulled her with all his might, willing her to run at his side. To quit this enclave and escape. And for a moment she complied, just as eager to leave her fate behind as he was to see it be forgotten. Until another crack tore through the pelting rain. It was no thunder this time. 

A soldier stood with a smoking rifle in hand, cursing his bad aim. 

The girl collapsed to the stone as pain ripped through her small frame. Shun turned with only enough time to see an arch of blood mixing with beads of falling rain. Immediately he dropped beside her, gathering her in his arms. Even with all the rage and anger he felt drumming in his heart, he first scrambled to check her wound. Her white robes, borrowed from a neighbor, had it’s left shoulder torn completely, blood spilling from a gash where the bullet had grazed muscle. 

She pressed a hand to the wound, knowing enough about injuries to apply pressure to stop bleeding. Shun covered her shaking hand with his own quivering palm, glaring at the soldiers responsible beneath rain heavy lashes. 

Gosetsu moved to stand between the soldiers and their line of sight of the children, only to hear a chuckle from behind. Casting a look over his shoulder, the roe felt his stomach drop. Another garlean stood at Shun’s side, a gun trained on the prince. 

“Gosetsu, is it? You have two options. Save the girl or Doma’s heir.” The soldier clicked his tongue, giving a disgusting, twisted smile. When no response came except for a sinking of Gosetsu’s shoulders, the man leaned down and grabbed the girl by the wrist. 

A cry filled the enclave. She was hoisted against her will to her feet with complete disregard of her injury. Yet, despite the pain and agony, or the fear of an uncertain future, the girl kept her eyes trained on Shun. Her lips quivered, torn between snarling and snapping her jaws at her tormentor, and calling out for Shun. 

“Struggling with a kid?” Laughed a soldier, amused that his comrade found difficulties restraining her. 

“She’s tough. A feral beast at heart.” Gosetsu spoke somberly, half proud of the struggle she put up, entirely heartbroken that he could do naught to save her. 

As if to punctuate his sentence, the girl pitched forward and latched her mouth around the mans wrist. Her teeth sunk against flesh, tearing into muscle while blood spilled between her lips. His grip loosened as he cursed to the heavens, casting aside his gun in favor to nurse his injury. 

The girl, free for a moment, dropped to her knees before Shun. Her mismatched eyes, fire and ocean beneath crystalline tears and beads of rain, looked his features over once more. For the last time. She raised her hands, despite the pain that racked her body, and cupped his face. Their foreheads touched, the tip of her nose matching his. 

Shun hiccuped on his tears. “…Forgive me. I cannot… M-My promise.” 

— 

The thunderstorm that hit the enclave that day lasted for several days. The heat of summer had come and gone. The cicadas finished their chorus and returned to the eerie silence of falls approach. Even the Rainbow Tigers fled into the bamboo thickets to hunker down with their mates and cubs. Time pressed on, life continued as planned. 

— 

“Hien, did you know Rainbow Tigers mate for life?” Kiri announced one day, standing on the rolling hills just outside the House of the Fierce. 

Hien quirked a brow, a sudden sense of deja vu overcoming him. “Hm? And how would you know that? Are you an expert?” 

But Kiri only wistfully smiled. “Unlikely. Probably read it in a book once.” 

“Huh…. Maybe you did.” 

[yutaya]

Iron Fist Rewatch: 1x03: Rolling Thunder Cannon Punch

That's so terrifying. You look an entitled asshole in the eyes and say "no" when he tries to pressure you into doing something morally corrupt that would actively hurt another person - one who has specifically asked you for help - and then armed home invaders break in in the middle of the night. Ward is basically the mafia boss that Colleen has just pissed off, from her POV. No wonder she hates him.

Wow, now I want the fanfic where Colleen keeps calling Ward a mafia boss to his face. "Just because I'm under your mafia family's protection NOW doesn't make that time you put out a hit on me any better, mobster." "'Mob-' I never put out any 'hit'. I'm not the mafia." "You don't need to bother with pretence here, mob guy." (Danny helpfully does not point out that Ward definitely put out a hit on him, but the entire room is still painfully aware.)

Danny: Sorry the people trying to kill me broke your lock.

Colleen doesn't for one second find it out of the question that the cops might be in on the whole "corrupt rich white man is doing shady illegal things and trying to have a 'problem' 'fixed'" thing. Danny does, ("I haven't broken any law?") because Danny spent ten years as a rich white boy and then the next 15 in a culture completely separated from the rest of the world's reality. Or: Danny, a rich white boy, trusts the police. Colleen, who tries to make her dojo a safe space for a bunch of underprivileged majority bipoc kids living in the "bad part of town", does not.

Possibly the reason they speedrun us through Ward going up to the penthouse again is to remind the viewers how obnoxious it is to get up there before we see Danny climb the building later?

I forgot about this freaky tube thing. What is that? High tech coffin? lol. There's an implied "you should be unsettled by this" vibe to Harold's whole "it's so peaceful in here, I can't help but doze off" but when I don't know what the tube is the context is kind of lost on me.

Again with Ward calmly asking for an explanation about such a seemingly insane business choice, especially one that he's going to have to explain to people, and Harold brushing him off. Infuriating. And let's just toss in a sprinkling of "Joy has always been and always will be better than you, who can't do anything."

Harold: "Doesn't it occur to you that I'm doing this all for you?" Me: "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP I HATE YOU." He doesn't even just say "I'm doing this for you." No, he has to say "Doesn't it occur to you that I'm doing this for you?" Rather than simply lying, he just has to back Ward into that corner. Ugh. UGH.

Ward: closes his eyes, long huff of breath. I should start a count of how many times he does this.

MY SKIN IS CRAWLING. Freaking Harold. Ugh ugh ugh he's the worst.

Danny you realize you're both disrespecting Colleen AND talking about pretty sensitive subject matter right in front of her student?

Joy: "We need to do the right thing." Me: "You keep telling yourself you're a person who cares about that, Joy."

Joy used to do Ward's homework for him????

Like, what?

Seriously, what?

Was this supposed to be a cute exchange? Because my Asian American upbringing says it's NOT.

Joy: "In another life, this would have been romantic." Danny: "Gross, you're my sister."

"You and Ward, you're the only link to a life that I had. It kept me going under very difficult circumstances." ;___;

Joy talking about clinging to her dreams of Harold meeting her after school and holding her hand and smiling at her in her grief after he died is making me so miserable. To Joy, Harold means comfort.

Danny: *Starts talking about ghosts* Joy: Oh right, he's crazy.

Colleen: "You dishonor yourself when you fight for money."

Jeri, who has literally been mind-controlled, almost got murdered slowly and painfully, and brought a killer to her wife,

Young intern Jeri Hogarth calling the boss's secretary a "hatchet faced bitch" and then bribing said boss's 10yrs or younger kid not to tell is. Well. It sure is a thing.

I still want Danny inviting Jeri to Defenders friend group hangouts and Foggy and Marci both blanching. Jessica and Jeri can snark at each other and Danny can be like "You're friends too! I didn't know!! :D"

Honestly, I would have watched a whole show on the intricacies of classism issues, with the Elite like Jeri and the Meachums teaching Danny how to live and maneuver in that world and Colleen and the dojo and Big Al teaching Danny about the reality of life for the lower class, and our golden-hearted Danny in the center of it, consistently determined to do what's Right,

Joy: lol, isn't this such a fun, teasing, sibling-banter thing we do, me joking about how I'm going to close this deal and you would only endanger it?

Harold: punches trainer full in the face, then casually suggests weapons next time while the guy is still groaning on the ground

Is Gao terrorizing Harold and making him kneel on glass supposed to make me feel for Harold? No one deserves this but that doesn't make Harold magically not a monster.

Danny.... just taking over lecturing the class is not respectful to Darryl or Colleen either.

Danny: "What kind of soldier training is this? They're acting like kids!" Colleen: "That's the POINT! I am not training them to be soldiers, I am creating a safe space for them to be kids when they usually can't be in the rest of their lives." Danny's warped K'un Lun upbringing really shows here. It's heartbreaking to remember that Colleen isn't just some good samaritan either - that she was raised in a cult too and has her own warped upbringing viewpoints.

A line I need to appear in a Ward/Misty/Claire pov fic: "Colleen tends to seem normal because most of the time she's next to Danny. It's easy to forget that actually, she's completely batshit."

Colleen keeps throwing Danny out for bringing trouble to her doorstep and then not really fighting it when he sticks around anyway (Which: Danny. Danny, this is problematic behavior, Danny.) - it's when he becomes a danger to her students that she gets serious about it. Even if Danny wouldn't physically harm them again, he is now a drain on their mental health: he represents a potential danger, a reason to be constantly on guard, and a removal of their safe space.

Ward clearly has no idea what the heck Joy is doing. It's all very troubling and this family is so messed up.

The way Ward ever so slightly shakes his head at Joy as she bribes Patel with his nephew's actual life.

The blanket into snow is a great transition shot

Joy feels like Ward refuses to tell her things the same way Harold refuses to tell Ward things! But Ward doesn't actually have the ability to tell Joy anything because he doesn't know anything! Ugh!!

On Joy's desk: a photo of her and Ward toasting at some party. She also has a copy on her shelf at home.

Joy poured her blood sweat and tears into Rand. She's proud of it. To Ward, it's a prison.

Wait so their plan is that there's no record that Danny Rand ever existed? Like, besides. The city's collective memory? People know about Danny Rand, guys. You need to delete the ability to connect this adult man to Danny Rand, not young Danny's entire paper trail. I mean, anything linking them would be included in literally everything about Danny but still. Seems unnecessary and suspicious?? I know nothing about crime.

Jeri casually constantly reminding Danny that the Meachums are the corrupt villains of this story must be really messing with Danny's head. Not that she's wrong. Poor boy.

"Isn't it obvious!? I'm not your sister. He's not your brother. We don't want you here." brb crying forever

I have to appreciate that this fight moderator is actually trying to run a semi-safe tight ship behind the showmanship

"Cut the Floyd Mayweather shit." Floyd Mayweather: a former professional boxer, competed from 1996-2015. Often referred to as the best defensive boxer in history, as well as the most accurate puncher. Nicknamed "Pretty Boy" by his amateur teammates because his defensive technique left him with relatively few scars.

That whole Randy biting Colleen (breaking the rules about going too far laid out at the start of the fight) and then her climbing on top of him to keep on punching after he's down was really framed like one of those troubling "the hero loses control and it's bad" type scenes.

I am very curious about Jeri and the Meachums' history. Jeri and Ward snark at each other so much in this meeting. And they definitely seem amused while doing so. Also Joy was like "Hogarth" at Ward earlier, and Jeri described their relationship as "complicated" to Danny.

Ward slumps down in his seat so he's lower than anyone else in the room, despite probably being the tallest. This is probably meant as a show of dismissiveness: Danny's case is so insignificant that he doesn't need to respect them by sitting up straight - but it IS interesting, from a power dynamics in staging perspective.

Ward, who has a constant escape plan of stealing from his employees and running away with Joy, plus was literally talking about leaving and starting over with nothing earlier in this same episode: "It could have been easy. You could have taken the money and had a great life."

The elevator level can be controlled by the lobby man???

Another picture of presumably child Joy on Harold's desk, as a toddler this time. How many does he have?? This is cruel set dressing.

Harold playing on Ward's loyalty again. "I need you to help me. I don't have anyone else."

[clockworkouroboros]

Misty Eyes

trigger warning for death/drowning

//

The only life in the marsh was that of the animals who lived there. They were unintrusive, quiet. Natural. My Gran always told me the most dangerous place in the world was out on the marsh. Didn’t matter what time of day, but if the clouds covered the moon or sun, you would be lucky to make it out alive.

Gran said a lot of things like that. I believed her, too. When I was about three. By the time I hit my middle school years, I’d stopped believing it.

Of course, I still never went out into the marsh on bad-weather days. It was easy to get lost out there. It was a big place, and it all looked the same. When visibility was bad, when the fog rolled in thick and the rain droplets fell from the sky so aggressively that they almost seemed angry, then it was dangerous to be out there. But Gran always meant it in some weird, mystical way. Not a common sense sort of way. That was more my style.

Still, I didn’t like the marsh. I grew up on its edge, on the border between marsh and hills, mostly farmland, dotted with the occasional trees. It was a colder climate than most: short, humid summers where steam rose off the marsh, making it appear almost ghostly; chilly, wet falls where the damp got into your bones no matter how young you were; long, drawn out winters where the marsh lay frozen and silent. Dead. And, of course, the late springs, that always came with the inevitable flooding as the rains came and the snow melted, making the waters in the marsh rise and get into our basement. That was my least-favorite time of year. Gran was too old to go down the stairs into the basement, so it was my job to go down with a pump and get the water out. I’d spend hours down there every day, bored out of my skull, falling behind in school because I was too busy pumping water out of the basement to do my homework.

The animals that lived in the marsh were different than other animals. Harsher, somehow. Used to living in the cold climate and the dangers of the marsh. Gran always said that the marsh was fickle; that it liked the animals but hated the people. She would get melancholy, then, and turn her face to the east window, where the marsh could be seen coming right up to the backyard. She’d say she understood why the marsh didn’t like anyone. That people disturbed the land, disturbed the quiet.

Gran was an avid bird watcher, and the marsh gave her plenty of opportunity to see birds. There were the ducks and geese and loons, of course, but other, more exciting birds showed up in our yard all the time. Swans and egrets and herons and the rare, beautiful whooping crane. She always seemed happiest when she was watching the birds. Otherwise, she walked like someone with the weight of a thousand secrets on her shoulders. She was only sixty, but she seemed older by at least two decades. Once, when I was little, I asked her about her aging. She told me it was because of the marsh.

That didn’t really make sense to me: after all, I knew lots of people in the area, and they all were normal. But you didn’t ask Gran to clarify her statements. You just didn’t.

One day, when I was about twelve, full of that middle school angst and anger, Gran disappeared. She was there when I left for school and gone when I got back. No note, no nothing. Just a set of small footprints in the muddy yard, going straight down the middle of the backyard, heading towards the marsh.

I didn’t understand it, not at all, why she had gone out there. It was autumn, and with autumn came the fog, the mist rising up from the marsh. When I was little, Gran had told me that the mist was the souls of the people who had gotten lost out on the marsh. They were still looking for a way out, a way home. If there was one thing that scared Gran more than anything else, it was getting lost in the marsh. Why she had just wandered out into it made no sense.

With Gran leaving, or disappearing, or whatever, I was all alone in the world. A small house, white paint peeling off the sideboards, a leaky basement, and twelve-year-old angst, that was all I had.

I didn’t tell anyone that Gran had disappeared. I didn’t necessarily like my life, but I didn’t want it to change. Besides, Gran had long since stopped doing any housework. She was too frail, too worn to do anything other than go from her bed to her chair to the table to eat meals, then back to her chair and, eventually, back to bed. She read, she watched tv, but that was it. I cooked the meals and cleaned the house, I managed the bank account, paid the bills, and faked Gran’s signature with ease. None of the money was mine, of course. My mom had had some sort of life insurance thing that would last me through college if I was careful. And years of taking care of Gran had left me very careful.

In a way, Gran’s disappearance was a relief. It felt wrong to say that, like I was disrespecting Gran and my whole family, but it was the truth. I only had one person to take care of, and that was me. I carried on like nothing had changed, only I didn’t have to take care of an old woman who was supposed to be taking care of me. If the neighbors found out, they’d tell the cops, and if that happened, then I’d have to go to foster care. I didn’t want that. I wanted to be independent, to be on my own.

The only time I ever struggled was when it got foggy on the marsh, and the rain fell with a vengeance, like it had some personal grudge against the ground, and the wind howled through the open marsh air, whispering and wailing, a ghost that rattled the windowpanes and worked its way through the cracks of the house. Then I thought I heard a voice, my Gran’s voice, calling out my name. I’m lost, the voice would say. I’m out on the marsh. Help me.

When that happened, I would sit in the center room of the little house, the living room, where Gran’s chair sat empty and cold, a physical reminder that she was gone, and I’d light candles and sit in the center of the room. I’d wrap myself in a blanket and hum the songs that Gran used to sing to me. The songs she sang to me when I was little and the weather got like this. The songs she sang to me when my parents disappeared, all those years ago. It had been so long ago that their faces were blurred in my memory. I didn’t even remember how they disappeared, or why. Just that they were gone one night, when the weather was like this.

But when I thought about that, the wind sounded more like Gran’s voice than ever, so I didn’t think about it. I wouldn’t go out on the marsh. Gran would have been disappointed in me if I had, and I didn’t want to disappoint her. Even though she wasn’t here anymore.

The autumn was longer than normal. My fingers were cold so much that I began to forget they knew how to be warm. The fog and mist persisted, even when a pale sun managed to break through the clouds to shine weakly on the marsh. But even that happened rarely.

It was late October when my neighbors found out I was all alone. I’d survived on my own for six weeks, huddled in my blanket in the living room almost every night. The neighbors were coming to check on Gran. They hadn’t heard from her in a long time, they said. Over a month, they said. I told them she had been feeling a bit ill—under the weather—and that I’d let them know when she was feeling better.

That was the wrong thing to say. They insisted on coming inside, on making sure everything was okay. You could come stay with us until she gets better, they told me. Poor little girl, with no one to take care of you. They insisted on seeing Gran, on talking about this plan with her. Nothing I said could make them back off.

So they found out Gran was missing. Gone. They asked me how long she’d been missing, and when I told them, they insisted that I come back with them, and they’d make sure I was okay, and wasn’t I scared? Poor little girl all alone, with her grandmother missing. Why hadn’t I said anything? They would take care of everything. Just put on my shoes and jacket and come with them, please.

I put on my shoes and my jacket like they asked, but when we got outside, I ran away. I was twelve. I was stupid. I was full of middle school anxiety and anger, the type that’s embarrassing later but is just so real when you’re in the middle of it. I don’t remember, but I think I might have flipped my neighbors off when I ran away. It would have been an uncharacteristic move for me; I was the sort of kid adults worried about, but couldn’t actually find cause to worry about. Flipping anyone off would have been a shock for them.

I wasn’t thinking when I ran, all I knew was that I needed to get away. To hide. I needed somewhere safe. I was going to run down the road, but there weren’t any trees to hide in, and the neighbors had their car with them. They’d catch up to me easily. So I ran the way I knew they’d never go. I ran to the marsh.

My footprints cut down the middle of the backyard. The weather had been so wet that the grass was spongy, sinking down with every step I took, preserving the imprint of rubber on the bottom of my old secondhand farm boots. I ran straight out into the reeds of the marsh, wrapping my coat around me tightly, wishing I’d brought gloves.

The neighbors wouldn’t find me. They avoided the marsh. Everyone did. There was the old, abandoned nature center that had taught children about the marsh; abandoned after people started going missing on its trails. There were the abandoned tour places that took people out on the marsh in boats. Those started closing down after boats started sinking, with everyone onboard sucked into the loose mud at the bottom of the marsh forever. I knew all about the dangers of the marsh. Everyone around us did.

But I kept running once I got out of the backyard, kept running farther and farther into the marsh. Cold water sloshed over my boots, getting deeper and deeper. I was grateful that my boots were waterproof, but unhappy that the water was turning the rubber so cold. My feet felt frozen. The reeds and cattails cut my cold hands as I pushed my way through them, breathing hard. Webs of purple began to appear on the backs of my hands, reminding me just how cold I was. When I finally found some land, a soggy piece of hill out in the middle of the marsh, I was far away. So far away that I couldn’t see anything. Not my house. Not any house. Not a road. It was just me and the never ending marsh. I sat down to wait, and I tried not to see the drowned face of my Gran in the water. It was just my imagination. I knew that.

So why was it so hard to get that picture out of my head?

When the night fell and the winds picked up, howling and wailing like never before, a cacophony of sound, a symphony of souls trying to find their way home, I crouched on my bit of soggy, mossy rock and tried to block it out. But, just like when I was at home, the wind made its way through me, chilling me to the bone.

Another noise cut through the sound of the storm, and when I looked up at the sky, squinting into the raindrops, I saw a helicopter with a searchlight. I didn’t have to be a genius to know they were looking for me, the poor little twelve-year-old whose grandmother went missing, who lived alone for a whole six weeks. She had probably gone insane, hadn’t she? Living all alone, not knowing where her grandmother was. When the neighbors found her, she’d run off into the marsh, like some sort of wild animal.

That poor girl.

I didn’t know where to hide, but the helicopter was getting closer, and the wind was getting louder. It was too loud. The searchlight was too bright. The water was quiet. The water was peaceful. They wouldn’t be able to find me in the water.

The water was cold, but it was quiet. It deafened all sound. I saw the searchlights of the helicopter above me, but it couldn’t find me. Not with that wall of water between it and me. It moved on, and the world turned to black. It wasn’t until I tried to get back out of the water that I realized I couldn’t move. I should have known that the marsh wouldn’t just let me go. That Gran was right all along.

A different sort of black began filling my vision.

I’m so cold. I’m looking for my grandmother. You haven’t seen her, have you? She’s lost in the marsh. But, then again, so am I. And you might not realize it, but I think you are, too. It’s dangerous to get lost in the marsh.

You clearly aren’t from around here. Everyone who lives near the marsh knows: you don’t listen to the stories of a poor little dead girl. Not when she died in the marsh.

[bendywackyadventures]

Pokemon Let’s GO Adventures Chap.5

So I got this chapter done yesterday, but I was busy after I got this done I'm posting it today. As I worked on this I suffered though the weekend with a headache due to some stuff going on, but I'm feeling better...sort of.

I would rather not go into detail, but enjoy the story!

Susie shivered as she slowly walked to the next town; Lavender Town; The town where dead Pokémon are laid to rest. The girl gave a gulp as she took the step into town. Alice shivered and stayed close to Susie. “Its okay Alice. Stick close to me and you’ll be fine.”

The Eevee whimpered and jumped into Susie’s arms. Susie pets her Eevee giving the little Pokémon some comfort. The two walked into a Pokémon Center to get rest before heading to Saffron City to compete at the gym.

Once she walked in, she felt the atmosphere wasn’t like at most Pokémon Centers. She felt sadness, worry and gloom all around her. Trainers holding their Pokémon close to them, some waited crying or shaking over the fate of their Pokémon. Susie never saw a Pokémon Center like this before.

“What happened here?” Susie asked.

A trainer spoke up, “our Pokémon.” He replied. “A spirit took over the tower and we tried to battle it, but our Pokémon was no match for it.” He explained. Susie looked up as one girl ran up and cried holding her injured Flareon who was just released from Nurse Joy’s care.

Susie felt sorry for the young girl, but felt relieved that her Pokémon didn’t suffer far worse. Though Susie was determined to see this spirit and battle it. “Where did you find this spirit?” She asked.

The man sighed and pointed over at the tower next to the Pokémon Center. “The Pokémon Tower. Legends say a spirit of a Pokémon lives there and harms other living Pokémon.”

Susie gulped; Alice shivered seeing the tall tower. All they needed was thunder and lightning in the background and it was the perfect setting for a horror movie. Susie walked towards the entrance of the Pokémon Tower and felt the gloomy presence lurking around.

The young female trainer saw tombstones of Pokémon, trainers crying over their dead Pokémon. It was awful! Susie slowly walked not taking her eyes off the morning trainers. Susie walked up the stairs and felt she got hit with a wave of cold air.

Alice shivered holding on to Susie close. “Its okay Alice. You’ll be fine.” She assured. Susie pets her starter Pokémon, which gave the little Evolution Pokémon some ease. Susie went into her bag and grabbed the Silph Scope she got from Celadon City. She put them on, but sees nothing in the distance. Susie took it off and she kept on walking.

Then what got the trainer and Pokémon all worked up was something that scurried in front of them. Susie yelped stepping back from what just ran towards her. Alice jumped from Susie’s shoulders and looked for what was there. She growled and went to walk forward towards what was there.

A small figure showed up with glowing eyes making Susie and Alice run in fear back downstairs. Susie was so scared she bumped into Joey who was crossing these same steps. Joey glared seeing the same trainer he met back in Cerulean City. “Oh you again.” Joey replied.

Susie looked up and glared at the young boy. She remembered the battle the two had not too long ago where Joey defeated her. “Joey.” She growled.

“Vee.” Alice growled as well.

A Charmeleon and Gengar then appeared next to Joey giving the little Eevee a scare jumping into Susie’s arms. Susie got up and brushed herself off. “What are you doing here?” She asked.

Joey didn’t answer, but asked Susie, “what about you? Isn’t a little girl like you scared of haunted places?” He asked.

Susie glared and went up in his face. “I’m not scared!” She snapped.

Joey smirked and went up to her face, “so why we’re you running?” He asked. Susie blushed, but glared at the young boy.

“T-That’s none of your business!” She replied back. Joey chuckled and walked up the stairs headed towards the top of the tower. “Hey! Come back here!” Susie yelled. Joey ignored her heading up the stairs. Susie glared and sticks her tongue out at the young trainer.

Alice made a noise putting her paws on her trainer’s hands. Susie looked down at her Eevee and gave a smile, calming her down. Susie nuzzled her Eevee, “come on! Let’s find this mysterious spirit!”

“Eevee!” Alice replied.

The two went back up the stairs and went to look for this mysterious spirit. Susie grabbed her Silph Scope again and put it on to find the spirit, but there was nothing. “Come on.” Susie whispered. She figured if she whispered, the spirits wouldn’t hear her.

She went up the stairs and saw many misty figures floating around. They were Gastly and Haunter lurking around the room. Susie slowly walked away from them, but one Gastly was sneaking up on the young girl.

Alice saw the Gastly and jumped from Susie’s arms, battling the ghost Pokémon. Gastly went in with a Shadow Ball, but the move went passed Alice. “Alice, Bite!” Susie commanded.

Alice jumped on the ghost Pokémon and bit onto it, making the ghost Pokémon disappear. The little Eevee cheered showing she defeated a ghost-type, but this cheer caused other ghost-type Pokémon to come towards them.

Susie then grabbed her Poke ball, and threw it, “Ivysaur, help Alice!” Ivysaur, which was the Bulbasaur she gotten back in Cerulean City. “Ivysaur, use Razor Leaf!”

“Saur!” Ivysaur yelled as he let out blades of leaves towards the ghost Pokémon. The ghost Pokémon cried as they got hit. Alice jumped and used another Bite attack on a Haunter, causing it to disappear.

One of the Gastly used its mist to turn them into fist to use a Sucker Punch attack. Ivysaur and Alice dogged the attack before Ivysaur decided to use its vines to push the Sucker Punch away. Then Ivysaur used its vines to grab hold of Gastly, but the ghost Pokémon disappeared slipping away from the grass-type Pokémon, and sneaked up behind him.

Ivysaur turned and got hit by a Sucker Punch. “Ivysaur!” Susie yelled. Ivysaur got up and shook it off. “Are you okay?”

“Ivysaur!” Ivysaur called out. Susie sighed seeing her grass-type Pokémon was all right.  Susie turned and saw Eevee using Bite again on the Haunter causing it to disappear like the others.

The ghost Pokémon saw they we’re out numbered and disappeared hiding away from the trainer. Susie cheered hugging her Eevee and Ivysaur tight.

In the distance a little figure was looking behind seeing the entire battle go on. The figure slowly went up the stairs not getting noticed by the trainer or her Pokémon.

Susie, Alice and Ivysaur were walking up the stairs and saw there were no Ghost-types lurking around, but it was dark and foggy to the point Susie’s Silph Scope was getting blurry. She removed the device and walked around the place. “Hello!” She called out. No one responded, but Ivysaur and Alice knew something was here. “Anyone here!”

The figure moved from gravestone to gravestone keeping itself hidden from the trainer and her Pokémon. The Pokémon, which was revealed to be Cubone whimpered as it ran up the stairs.

Cubone then heard a cry coming from the distance. Cubone cried as well and ran up to the stairs only to be blocked by Joey’s Charmeleon and Gengar. Cubone got worried and tried to escape, only for Joey to step in. “So you’re the Cubone that belongs to the mother Team Rocket took out.” He explained. Cubone shivered as Joey came closer with a Pokeball in hand. Cubone walked slowly as it tried to get to the lower level of the stairs, scared of Joey and his team.

Soon, blades of grass appeared and attacked Charmeleon and Gengar. Joey turned around seeing his Pokémon slammed into the wall. “Joey!” Susie growled coming up the stairs with her Pokémon. “So this is why you’re here?” She asked.

Joey chuckled. “You finally caught on.” He replied.

“Tell me. What did you do to Cubone’s mother?” Susie asked.

“Its not what I did. Its what Team Rocket did.” Joey replied. “You see Team Rocket got a hold of Cubone’s mother and well let’s just say she…didn’t make it.” He explained with a smirk.

Susie glared, “Alice, Bite!” She commanded. The Eevee jumped on Gengar and bit it, but didn’t do too much damage. The Gengar moved out of the way, and got Charmeleon into the battle as well.

“Charmeleon, Metal Claw! Gengar Sucker Punch!” Joey commanded.

The Pokémon jumped into the attack as Ivysaur and Alice dodged it. “Alice use Quick Attack on Charmeleon! Ivysaur use Vine Whip on Gengar!” Susie commanded. Alice ran and tackled the fire type Pokémon in the stomach as Ivysaur used its Vine Whip to grab a hold of Gengar and threw it in the air.

Gengar was able to go pass the wall and sneak up behind Ivysaur using a Sucker Punch on it. While Ivysaur got hit, it was able to stand its ground. “Quick Ivysaur, use Sleep Powder!”

“Saur!” Ivysaur let out a green powder towards Gengar and Charmeleon. Gengar vanished out of the way as Charmeleon got hit with the powder and fell asleep.

“Alright! Alice use Swift!” Susie commanded.

“Eevee! Vee!” Alice set out a bunch of stars as it attacked the sleeping Flame Pokémon. Charmeleon was knocked out. Joey glared at the young girl and returned his fainted Pokémon back into the Pokeball. Gengar then went behind Joey and whispered something into his ear. Joey smirked and nodded, understanding his Ghost Pokémon plans.

“Gengar, now!” Joey commanded. Joey’s Gengar snuck up behind Susie using Hypnosis attack on her. Susie froze as Joey’s Gengar used its attack on Susie making her relive a memory. Alice called out to her trainer, but she wasn’t responding. All she was doing was staring out into space as tears fell from her eyes as she relived a horrible memory.

“Eevee! Vee!” Alice called out. Susie wasn’t listening; she then fell to the ground and started to sob. “Eevee! Eevee!” Alice cried worried for her trainer.

The Cubone saw Susie suffering and went up to battle the Gengar with Alice. “Cubone. Cu.” Cubone replied to Alice.

Alice’s eyes sparkled as she nodded, “Vee.” The Eevee, Ivysaur and Cubone faced Joey’s Gengar, which chuckled seeing the three Pokémon facing him. Gengar then launched a Shadow Ball as the three Pokémon jumped missing the attack.

Ivysaur used Razor Leaf, but Gengar missed it and was about to use Shadow Ball on the grass-type Pokémon. Ivysaur got hit, but Alice jumped in and used Swift on the ground to create dust so Gengar couldn’t see.

Out of the smoke, Cubone used Bone Club dealing critical damage on Gengar knocking it out.

With that, Susie managed to snap out of her trance. She touched the tear that fell from her eyes and whipped it away. Alice and Ivysaur smiled seeing their trainer all right. They ran to her hugging her tight. “Alice! Ivysaur!” She beamed. Susie looked and saw Joey putting Gengar back into its Pokeball and walked away not saying a word. He walked passed her, not giving a glance. Susie was about to say something till she felt a cold wind pass by.

Looking up she saw the spirit face Cubone. Cubone was calling out and crying over the spirit. The spirit transformed into a Marowak. “Is that’s Cubone’s mom?” Susie asked whispering. Susie saw Cubone cry hugging its mother’s spirit. She felt bad for the ground type Pokémon. She walked up to the ground type orphan and gave him a pet. Cubone and Marowak looked up seeing Susie petting her baby.

Susie looked up at Marowak and gave a determined smile, “I won’t hurt your child.” She said. Marowak saw something in Susie, giving her permission to comfort her baby. Marowak’s aura turned gold as she slowly started to disappear. Cubone and Susie saw this, as Cubone ran towards his mother crying out to her. It made Susie realize she couldn’t leave this little Pokémon alone she walked next to Cubone and said to the peaceful spirit, “I’ll take care of him! I promise!” She yelled.

Marowak smiled giving a nod as she slowly disappeared. Susie gave a smile till she heard a whimper, turning around she saw the spirit of a Growlithe smiling and barking at her before it disappeared with Marowak. “Growlithe?” Susie asked seeing the spirit of the Puppy Pokémon.

Outside of Lavender Town Joey looked at the tower before walking off. His phone rang as he picked up. “Hello.” He answered. A voice talked to him on the other side of the line. “No a trainer beat me to it.” He paused as the person on the other side talked to him more. “Don’t worry we still have the back up plan.” He replied as he took out a card showing an ancient drawing of the mythical Pokémon…

Mew.

[moonsandstar-s]

The Final Warning - Chapter XXXV

Chapter XXXV - Night Gives Way to Dawn 

Summary:  As the year draws to a close, peace has finally dawned. The time for unity has arrived. In the Vytal festival, it is time for heroes to rise, bringing glory to their kingdoms. But as autumn dies, the first winds of winter blow over Remnant, chilling the hearts of the people; breathing doubt into their souls. Long-buried secrets will triumph, and every action will have a consequence. Ruby must reconcile herself with her own fate. Weiss struggles to escape her legacy. Blake cannot erase memories. Yang’s search leads her into more peril than ever— but none of them can outrun fate. Shadows turn on shadows, and bonds shatter as they are tested to the limit. For in dividing them, they will fall and burn; at the eye of the storm, no peace lasts forever. In the end and beginning of time, there is a place where the sun never rises, and the dead delight to teach the living. A great danger is rising from the darkness. It’s time to take sides. The final warning is coming. The first chill of winter is the most deadly; it is the chill that kills more than any other. The first betrayal is the most damaging; it is the act that shatters bonds of love and trust, crushing even the strongest heart, tearing teams apart. AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7745314/chapters/23892387 Blake

“It’s awfully warm for winter,” Yang commented, her prosthetic hand shading her eyes as she swept her gaze over the docks on the shoreline. “Don’t you think? Look, the ice on the sea’s already broken up.”

True enough, the white floes on the ocean had melted away to nothing, leaving sucking and swelling tides in their wake. A breeze that was brisk with a softer, warm edge swept over the air, bringing the scent of salt and blossoms with it. Yang rolled her bike forward slowly, and Weiss and Blake followed, trekking over the gritty, sandy docks. It was empty here, with only the occasional sailor or citizen scurrying past. Many people had packed up and moved away after the resulting events of the Fall of Beacon, namely the influx of Grimm that had poured in, but things seemed to be recovering.

After three days and nights spent traveling at top speed, they had arrived at the eastern coast of Vale, Mistral a distant landmass on the horizon of the glittering sea. They had passed through the city, skirting Beacon Tower, unwilling to confront the demons, personal and physical, that haunted the ruined school— not yet. One day, they would go back, Blake imagined. Sort through the memories, exorcise the ghosts. For now, they were on a mission: to find Ruby and the remnants of Team JNPR.

The White Fang could very well be on her heels even now, Blake suspected. They might be tracking her with a vengeance… but then again, she had seen neither hide nor hair of Ayran and Adam’s minions since the Fall, not the slightest sign of them. The fear of being hurt again— of Yang being hurt again— had not left her, and she doubted it ever would, but somehow, the knowledge that she would be over the sea and constantly on the move helped to combat the fear. That, coupled with Yang’s acceptance and forgiveness, made the urge to stay with her team stronger than her urge to run.

She walked forward and took Yang’s prosthetic hand in hers, their fingers lacing together. The tiniest smile curled the corner of Yang’s face, and the prosthetic almost seemed to glow warmer, as if her Aura was responding accordingly. It didn’t feel like her hand— even now, Blake couldn’t shake the terrifying image of Adam’s cold, cold eyes as he sneered down at Yang’s unconscious, bloody body— it felt like metal and Dust, but it was warm and strong. As if Yang sensed her thoughts, she gripped a little bit harder, letting out a deep sigh. Her anger and grief when they had reunited had been terrifying, but in the days following, she had shifted— not becoming the old Yang that Blake knew and loved, but someone stronger and more balanced all the same. Someone who had found equilibrium between chaotic fire and cool calmness.

As they proceeded down the docks, it became glaringly obvious that boarding a boat to embark to Mistral was easier said than done. Guards and sailors milled about, and the presence of three apprentice Huntresses in their midst became more conspicuous by the second.

“Do you think we’ll have to stowaway for real?” Yang muttered out of the corner of her mouth, her eyes darting to and fro as she searched the docked boats for some option they could take.

“I think we’ll have to. They’re not letting any passengers on, right? The General stopped all oversea travel except for the absolute necessities, like food and Dust.” Her eyes narrowed. “If we made a diversion and snuck on while they were looking the other way…”

“Time to employ our almost nonexistent sneaking skills,” Weiss muttered. “Great.” She and Yang shared a glance; Blake wondered if they were thinking of when they’d had to escape Vincent Schnee’s manor. “Well, who’s going to take the fall and make the diversion?”

“I’ll do it,” Blake volunteered instantly, a mixture of guilt and determination making her ears flatten.

Blue and lilac eyes flicked over to her, surprise ringing clear in both of their looks. Yang frowned, lines appearing between her brows. “Blake, you don’t have to—”

“I do… I owe you both. And they can’t catch me.” She took a rattling breath. “I’m not easy to keep a hold of.”

Yang’s gaze shadowed. “Be careful.”  

“I will. The moment everyone’s looking the other way, you two board the ship. I’ll circle around and join you.” Not allowing time for further protest, she gave them a resolute nod, and quickly strode off, leaving her teammates to creep down to a shipment boat, bound for Mistral. Once she was far enough away, Blake drew out a matchstick from her pack, followed by a vial full of a mixture of powdered fire and lightning Dust.

She dumped the mixture just under the dock, scarlet and white flecks flaking down and settling in a shimmering pile. Glancing to the right and left, trying to look nonchalant and unobtrusive, Blake lit the matchstick with a quick strike, watching fire bloom to life on the end before she flicked it into the pile of Dust.

BOOM.

A mushroom cloud of black fire and sparks billowed up as bright white light flared outward, the whole world shrouded in thick smoke within seconds as the wood of the docks exploded outward, splinters of wood raking past her like shrapnel. Blake was beset by a surge of panic— firelight dancing on cafeteria walls and silver light dying the whole world to a radiance greater than the sun— before she turned and fled, choking on the thick gray smoke. She stumbled out of the explosion, ash drifting down like rain, and crashed through the foggy air to the boat, scaling the ladder on the side. The world was still completely veiled from her, and she climbed like a mad animal, going on touch and hearing alone. She could hear sailors screaming in fear and confusion, milling about the docks where the explosion had originated.

Pulling herself up with one last heave, she vaulted over onto the deck of the boat, which rocked with the swell of the tide. Eyes streaming, she staggered forward, blinking in desperation. Where were Weiss and Yang?

She opened her mouth to call for them, before someone hissed her name, and a hand wrapped around her wrist and yanked her down into darkness.

/ / /

Yang

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Yang whispered, trying to hide her prosthetic under her shirt so the glow of the Dust wouldn’t give them away, but it still emitted a faint orange radiance even through the cloth.

Blake’s voice, still raspy from the smoke, drifted out of the darkness. “I’ll live.”

Weiss had been watching from beneath deck; she and Yang had made it to the belly of the ship, where the cargo was being held, and she had seen smoke suddenly turn the world to a misty gray before Blake had staggered out of the surreal grayness, looking half-dead. She’d grabbed her and pulled her down into the cargo hold, and now they were hidden behind a stack of boxes, their duffels around their backs, the motorcycle on its side and covered with Yang’s cloak so it would not gleam in the light and give them away.

Yang inched closer to Blake. She couldn’t deny that something had fundamentally changed between them when Blake had run— perhaps so much so that it was a rift that would not heal in a while— but with a quiet sigh, her partner held her close, her breathing uneven. Yang could feel her heartbeat, quick and unsteady.

“I’m sorry,” Blake whispered.

“What for? You did great. The diversion gave us plenty of time to sneak on here, and the boat’s already moving. We’ll be to Mistral soon, thanks to you.”

“That’s not what I’m sorry for.” Blake let Yang go, her amber eyes appearing with a reflected, eerie glow, as if she had abruptly opened them. Cats’ eyes, Yang thought, noticing how the pupils widened, as if soaking up every scrap of light belowdeck.

Yang’s smile fell from her face as guilt raced through her, before she realized it wasn’t her own, it was Blake’s.

“You don’t notice how much you get used to a Bond,” Blake said quietly, “until it is gone.”

“You know why I did what I did, and I’m not going to apologize,” Yang retorted, before Blake’s hand closed on her wrist.

“I’m not blaming you… I could never blame you. It was well deserved on my part, don’t you think I know that?” Blake’s voice hitched. “I just wish… you didn’t deserve to lose so much for me.”

“I chose to do it. If it meant protecting you, I’d do it all over again, Blake. Every time, I’ll choose you. Don’t you get that? Partners fight for each other. We never have nearly as much time as we think, so we have to make every second count… but in the end, everything will be okay, I promise.” Yang felt Blake stiffen ever so slightly, remembering, perhaps, another day very long ago, in the scarlet forest of Forever Fall, before they had been Bonded, before they had fallen in love, before they had even been friends.  

“I promise,” Yang had said.

“Yang, don’t. Don’t make promises. Don’t ever promise me anything.They aren’t worth anything.”  

“They are with the right people,” she’d replied.  

“No, they aren't! I have learned the hard way not to put my faith in people, let alone people like you— ”

“People like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“People that make promises they can’t possibly keep,” Blake had replied wearily. “A promise that everything will be okay. The real world doesn’t work like that, Yang, and it never will.”

“You’re right, it probably won’t. But that doesn’t mean you can’t try— to let someone help out every once in a while. I’ve been nothing but nice to you since we met—“  

“I don’t need your kindness!”

“Then why did you choose me in the forest, then, out of everyone, knowing how I was? Don't even dare deny it. You chose me, Blake. You could have run away long before making eye contact. But you didn't."

Yang had crept closer to Blake, not knowing her then, not knowing how she worked, what made her tick and what her thoughts and dreams, hopes and fears, were. “Okay,” she had whispered, “so maybe it was wrong of me to promise something I don’t know will come true. I get that. I get having bad stuff you just don’t want to talk about, and we’re partners, so even if you don’t trust me, that’s still okay, too. I won’t promise you things. But I do believe you’ll be okay if you give yourself time and stay optimistic about the situation.”

“You really don’t know a lot about having demons, do you?”

“I do, actually. But I know about other things, too. Like … like partnership, and helping people out, and trusting, and I want to do that with you, Blake. I want to be your friend. And I know—  I know you act like you don’t want to have friends, but maybe… maybe I could be, you know? Maybe you could try to, you know, befriend and trust people more?”

Blake had looked dubious. “People can be very awful.”

“I know. People have hurt me, too. You forget that I have the same feelings you do.”

Finally, Blake had said, “Okay.”

“Okay …?”

“We’re friends, Yang.”

She came back to the present, rubbing her thumb across the back of Blake’s hand. “I think that was when I started to love you, just a little bit,” Yang murmured into the sheltering dark. “Maybe it’s idiotic of me to think everything will be perfect now, so I won’t think that. We’ll all struggle as much as it takes to get to where we need to be, just like everyone else. We’ll have our trials and tribulations and suffering fear… but we’ll have good times, too. We won’t leave each other behind, not ever again. Good endings don’t come to everyone, but if you try your hardest, you can hope to have a shot at getting there, as long as you just hold on— hold on to what matters, and hold on to those you love. And we’ll get our happy ending, one way or another. No matter what it takes… because it’s always going to be you and me, Blake. All of our days, it’ll be the two of us, together.”

Blake was silent for a long time, before she breathed out a single word, so quiet Yang could barely hear her.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” Yang whispered, and she held her closely, both of them protecting each other from the demons that lurked in the shadows, letting the gentle swaying of the ship rock them both into the dark oblivion of sleep.

/ / /

Weiss

“Wake up, you two,” Weiss hissed, shaking her teammates awake. They had both fallen asleep, curled in to each other in the shadowy hold of the ship, but after long hours spent enduring the repetitive sway of the ship on the swells of the ocean, it had grated to a stop, and Weiss knew they had docked at the shores of Mistral. Sea travel was fairly quick, with water Dust to power it, so Weiss wasn’t surprised that it had only taken a day to go from Vale to their new destination.

Yang blinked her eyes open first, looking bleary and confused before stretching out and shaking Blake away, who was slower to rise. Weiss turned away, pulling her duffel closer and propping up the motorcycle as quietly as she could, as Blake and Yang put on their own cloaks and packs. Happy as she was for them— Blake’s absence had obviously been eating Yang alive— she couldn’t stifle a pang of jealousy and longing. They didn’t have their whole team reunited, not yet, and until they did, she would not be able to rest.

“So what’s the plan to get out of here without getting in trouble? Mistral’s stricter, so I’ve heard… I don’t want to get tossed behind bars for stowing away.”

“Another diversion?” Yang suggested, but she didn’t sound as if her heart was in it, and Blake winced.

“No, not after the last one, I think.”

“Unless we just knock out whoever opens the cargo hold and run before they get a good luck at us,” Yang offered. “Can’t do much harm, right? You get the glyph ready to launch us out of here, and I can do the punching.” She patted her prosthetic, looking satisfied. “It packs a good punch, too.”

“We’d have to be very quick, and Weiss’s glyph would have to be swift and strong enough to launch us, and your cycle, out of the hold,” Blake added, looking thoughtful.

“Of course, that would be your plan, to knock someone out,” Weiss said, coupled with a roll of her eyes, and Yang grinned crookedly; Weiss realized why moments later— they had fallen back into old routine, back in the days of Beacon Academy, with Yang coming up with the plans, Weiss criticizing, and Blake perfecting them.

But we don’t have Ruby to praise the plan and put it into action, Weiss thought, her smile fading. She turned her face away and drew Myrtenaster, before saying, “The idea about the glyph is sound enough, but how about I do something altogether more impressive?”

Yang’s gaze sparked in the gloom. “Summoning, you mean?”

“Yes. If I summon a Grimm once we’re out on the deck, it will distract the sailors enough that they won’t give us a second glance, and we can be on our way. And that way, we don’t have to punch anyone, and we’re less likely to have charges and angry men on our heels.”

“In that case, make it a King Taijitu, won’t you?” Yang said, her teeth flashing in the dark as she smiled. “Those are the scariest. You’ll have some of the sailors wetting their pants and crying for Mommy. But yeah, overall, it sounds like a good plan. Let’s do it.”

They waited for several minutes, before a loud creak ripped through the silence, and a square of light opened above their heads.

“Now or never,” Yang growled.

The blinding edges of the sun appeared around the silhouette of a sailor, followed by a shout and the sound of rushing sea and wind. Weiss narrowed her eyes, and immediately, she shot a glyph out.

Yang instantly jumped on it, the glyph shimmering as it launched her above-deck, followed by Blake, who disappeared like a streak of shadow vaulted into the sky. Weiss grabbed the handlebar of the cycle, leaping on her own glyph, and then she was flying, soaring upward and shooting through the trapdoor into the blindingly bright sunlight.

She landed on the deck amid screams from the crew, and she caught a glimpse of Yang and Blake jumping the side of the boat, followed by two distant splashes. Weiss drew out Myrtenaster, slashing it out. After the hours of darkness, it felt like the light was sinking vicious claws into her eyes, and she squinted before gritting her teeth and pulling on her Aura, feeling Mysternaster grow white-hot before a silver streak shot out of the tip.

She didn’t stick around to watch the King Taijitu grow to full size. Without a backward glance, she sprinted to the railing of the ship and vaulted herself over, into the undulating, glittering sea.

/ / /

She met Blake and Yang in the trees bordering the shoreline, and they were both soaking wet. Yang looked exhilarated, wringing out her hair with her prosthetic, but Blake looked borderline furious, her ears pinned flat to her plastered hair. With a growl, she shook herself out, drenching them both again, following by yelps.

“Blake!”

“Gross!”

Weiss shivered, before letting out a swear as she realized she still had her duffel on. Everything in it was probably drenched with seawater, and ruined. “We’ll have to restock,” Yang said with a frown, evidently realizing the same thing. “Oh, well… we’re here, at least, which is more than I’d hoped for. Do you have my motorcycle? If not, we’re really screwed… that’s our transportation and supplies lost in one go.”

“You’re welcome,” Weiss grumbled, still angry about her now-ruined clothes as she pulled the motorcycle forward, passing it off to Yang, who looked giddy. “Not a word of thanks for a flawless escape, of course, but you’re welcome.”

“Not flawless; we’re all wet, aren’t we?” Yang didn’t sound too upset about it, though, and she smiled. “That was great, Weiss. You’re getting really good at Summoning in a pinch, you know that? My blood’s pumping, and with the sun bright as it is, we should be dry in no time. Let’s ditch these stupid docks and be on our way to the town, why don’t we?”

“Does your cycle still work after taking a dunk in the ocean?” Blake sounded more dubious.

“Lucky for Weiss, it’s waterproof; if it wasn’t, I’d be making her pay it off,” Yang warned them, fishing the keys out of her pocket with difficulty, and shaking out her wet hair. “Weiss, we’ll let you take the lead— you know where to go, right?”

Weiss nodded. She could feel her Bond— like a golden thread connecting her to Ruby across the vast ocean of distance that seperated them— but if she concentrated every ounce of her will upon it, she could dimly sense Ruby’s surroundings. A flash of blonde hair, Ren’s eyes, Nora’s laughter, and the beginning of a snowstorm, before she lost focus and was pulled back to her own surroundings. Even then, she could still sense Ruby’s cold determination. “She’s still pretty far away from the actual kingdom itself. She’s not even over the mountains. I would say she’s about two, three days ahead of us.”

“Then let’s get moving,” Blake murmured, and with one last backward glance at the shining sea and the faint shadow of Vale on the horizon, they strode into the forest.

/ / /

They made a stop in the town, tossing their soaked duffels and ruined supplies and purchasing more. Luckily, the vials of Dust had survived the plunge into the ocean, and so had most of the Lien, which had been in plastic coverings, but everything else was ruined. With half of their money, they bought a single duffel, fuel for the motorcycle, nonperishables, matches, and ammo— enough to last for weeks, if need be. With the rest, they bought new clothes, because the seawater had effectively ruined their old cloaks, which hadn’t been top-notch anyways, seeing as they had been lifted from old homes wrecked in the Fall of Beacon.

Feeling refreshed— dry, with her cloak billowing around her ankles, the snowy peaks of the mountains backlit by the distant sun, and the hint of ice on the wind— Weiss looked over at Blake and Yang, who were hand in hand. Since their reconciliation, they seemed different. They had always been fine together, but they seemed to fit more now in places where they hadn’t before. Yang had toughened up and lost some of her humor, and Blake had traded away her cowardly tendencies for steely grit. It almost saddened Weiss. If they had changed so much in the span of a month, how much worse would Ruby be, when she had been through more than all of them combined?

They boarded the motorcycle, zipping out of the town in a wake of smoke and the smell of burning rubber. As they bounced pass the entrance to the town, and onto the broad dirt path that wound away into the distance, towards Mistral’s capital, something stirred Weiss’s hair. She cried out— it felt like wingbeats— and looked up as a shadow swooped low over their heads. Yang gasped as it let out a triumphant cark, zipping away into the sunlight. Weiss frowned— it was just a bird, a crow by the looks of it, flying off ahead of them— and wondered why Yang jerked the motorcycle to the side, as if startled from her smooth driving.  

“Yang,” Blake shouted above the wind, “was that who I think it was?”

“It was! That was my uncle Qrow,” Yang said, a note of surprise in her voice. “He’s letting us know we’re on the right track. He’s been tracking after Ruby this whole time, but he…”

“He must have been keeping any eye on you, too,” Blake murmured. “You’re his family, with all that entails. He wants to make sure you’re safe, and if he was here, it must mean Ruby is okay, too.”

Yang bit her lip. “I hope you’re right.”

She didn’t say anything further, but Weiss noticed that she hit the gas, gunning the cycle harder than she ever had, and they shot off, a stream of dust billowing up in their wake.