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k1nky-fool · 3 years

Text

Between Regulations and Protocols

Part 1/?

Pairing: Thrawn x OC

m/f pairing

Rating: Teen

Warnings: bit of angst, introductions to characters and story.

Taglist: none yet. If you want to be tagged in future chapters, feel free to DM me or comment on this chapter.

It wasn’t as though she could have prevented this disaster. However, there were certainly moments which, in hindsight, could have been changed just by thinking through a decision with a wiser mind. By now, it was much too late, and the mess left in front of Ceka was as regrettable as it was dangerous.

For her at least, this was dangerous. She hadn’t meant for it to get so out of hand. As far as she was concerned one or two of the indulgences she allowed herself were fine. It was when these “indulgences” became so regular they might as well be the rule, that it began to be a problem.

Every time Ceka gave herself that allowance, every rule in the book ran through her head, making sure that none were being broken. As far as the book was concerned, crushing this hard on a superior was not forbidden so long as it was not acted upon and the individual in question’s work is not compromised.

There were rules for relationships. Probably because Ceka’s current predicament was not uncommon. Especially when one was serving under an officer as respectful and intelligent as Grand Admiral Thrawn. Feelings happened, and rules were in place. And while rules were not broken, Ceka could snake her way around them without even so much as bending them.

It was necessary with her situation. Long before she was ever harboring feelings for the Grand Admiral, Ceka had to claw her way to the top as a Togruta in a system that was clearly designed to cut those like her down.

Perhaps that was what drew her to Grand Admiral Thrawn in the first place. As shallow and rude as it sounded, him being a non-human, thriving in such a rigged system was astounding to Ceka. She knew first-hand what it takes just to get out of the academy in one piece. It took bone, blood, and tears just to get to her current position. It was probably another level of hell in reality to get to a position where people took orders from him instead of having to fight for enough recognition to be respected as a living being.

Of course the first thing she did when assigned as an ISB consultant on The Chimera was to do her research on her superior. Even if he wasn’t such a sight for sore eyes, she would have looked into him, just to get a map of the territory she was treading on. Ceka had served under her fair share of slimy bastards and downright war criminals.

Much to her surprise, he was almost spotless. A court marshall, but it wasn’t a severe offense, at least not to her. Above all else, nobody had anything very malicious to say about working under him. There were plenty of people who were conflicted, taking orders from a non-human. However, the vast majority of people, even Stormtroopers, had relatively nice things to say about working under him.

What they did say was that Grand Admiral Thrawn was a rather imposing presence. He ran a seamless ship, left little room for error so long as the crew did their work. It was said he was a ruthless strategist, which didn’t surprise Ceka in the slightest considering what she had read of him. He was intimidating, but very few had any elaboration on that comment. She didn’t see for herself until she was called into his office the next day. Ceka hadn’t the slightest idea of what he wanted.

Entering his office was damn near surreal. Ceka hadn’t met anyone in Imperial High Command that held such a collection of art. And especially not such a diverse lineup either. Everything from a Mirialan statuette of a goddess she couldn’t name, to a segment of a durasteel wall covered corner-to-corner in generations of graffiti, to a Clone’s painted helmet from the war it was so known for. The Grand Admiral, himself, was nowhere to be found.

Right away, this struck Ceka as odd. The art was the lesser of two analyses in her mind. She had been called over her wrist comm to meet Grand Admiral Thrawn in his office, where he is not currently present. If it were a prank from a superior officer for some hazing she was too familiar with, then it would have been a better move to call her here while the admiral was present. If it was indeed the admiral that sent for her, then there was a reason for this.

In interrogation, making the suspect wait was a tactic to put them on edge. And if that was the admiral’s goal, then it was working. But it wouldn’t do well to leave an unknown individual in your office, especially since she knew it was more than likely that he knew she was looking him up as soon as she got here. Letting her in here without supervision was a foolish move.

Unless of course, she wasn’t unsupervised.

Keeping her wits about her, Ceka began walking around the office, carefully observing everything in the room. To anyone watching, it would look more like she was admiring all the art on display, when in reality, she was scanning over every surface in search of anything that might be a recording device. If it’s sending a live feed, then it’ll be in something that can easily conceal wires or large enough and shaped well enough to hide an antenna to transmit the data to a screen somewhere.

She mentally cleared a random painting, and the durasteel graffiti wall. A few of the sculptures could barely fit enough material in them to remain standing, so those were cleared too. The Mirialan statuette was too small to hide anything. And it would be easy to see the mechanisms of a recording device inside.

More suddenly than Ceka would have liked, she stopped dead in her tracks. She turned to the clone helmet. She felt stupid as soon as she noticed it; this particular helmet was outfitted with a recorder by its visor. They were used to record and review battlefield footage in the Clone War. The antenna on the helmet and the device itself fit the categories to send live feed to a holoscreen somewhere. “Very subtle, Grand Admiral. I wish I had noticed sooner, but if you were looking to challenge me, you certainly did a good job.”

A door on the side of the office hissed open, revealing the man that set up this whole charade. “Not one new crew member has deduced the design of the test until now. Most giving in to impatience long before they attempt to find reason.”

“You do this with every new crew member?” She asked.

“Everyone assigned to The Chimera ranked Lieutenant or higher.” He said. “However, as mentioned, you are the first to realize you were being observed. Let alone to find the device I was watching from.”

Ceka wasn’t sure exactly how to feel about that. She was half certain he was complimenting her, but there was also a chance he was just thinking out loud about what he had observed. “Seeing as I am an ISB agent, and in charge of interrogation, I would hope I know my way around observation tactics.”

“You have found a place where your talents are put to good use.” He said, “However, I do find myself rather curious about you.”

Ceka moved to the space in front of his desk as he moved behind it to take something out of one of the drawers. "I'm more than happy to answer any questions you have." She said.

"I will keep that in mind." He noted, pulling something up in the holoprojector. It was just about every file The Empire kept on her. Every mission, every report, every personal file, and even her academy registration. "Much like yourself, I did my research when you were assigned to The Chimera. I must say, your talents are exemplary, yet based on the impression you made when faced with my test, your files do not add up."

Clearly the lack of reaction from her made him all the more interested. In truth, she expected he might say that. "What specifically do you want to know?"

"Agent Lo, I am no stranger to the ruthless ends humans will go to in order to assure they are not upstaged by someone they deem less than themselves." He cut in. "Yet you have managed to reach your current rank without any recorded incident. Not even so much as uniform code violation marres your record."

"I consider myself an upstanding agent." She said, as though to tell him respectfully to get to the point.

"Then tell me, Agent, why is it you actively dull any record of your success?"

"Sir?"

"I understand the need to blend in with your peers." He continued, "However every record that mentions an accomplishment of yours has been buried in unnecessary details; even your own reports follow this pattern."

Ceka could feel her throat tighten and her face heat as Thrawn observed her carefully as though he could see through her skin. He was indeed as intimidating as everyone had said. She had said she was willing to answer whatever questions he had, and now she wished she hadn't said that.

She forced herself to relax. "You said it yourself. I need to blend in with my peers. And you know better than anyone else what they're willing to do to cut me down should I rise above them." Ceka explained. "It's a method of survival, that is all. Remaining at the average minimizes the harassment I receive."

Thrawn considered her words. "Why minimize it?" He asked. "It would be far easier to simply retire from military service."

A small smile graced her face. There was so much more to her than just self preservation. "Because retiring is not my goal, sir."

"What is your goal, agent?"

There was the right question. "To make my home planet whole again." She answered without hesitation. "The Galactic Empire has redistributed the population of Shili to only major cities and tribes they had the ability to commit troops to. My tribe was among the many to be forced off their ancestral territory. My goal is to climb ISB ranks until I can bring to light that it is more dangerous to The Empire to force Togrutas off their homeland than to commit minimal troops to the smaller tribes."

"A noble cause, Agent Lo." He noted. "I have come to a decision. I expect you to take full credit for every successful assignment I give you. Should I find in any of your reports that you belittle your role in the accomplishment, the report will be rejected, and I will require a new one."

"Ah- sir, I-"

"That will be all, Agent Lo, you are dismissed."

Ceka opened her mouth to speak again, but the rulebook went through her head again. Disobeying orders was an offence one could be court marshalled for. But voicing disagreements were not prohibited, even though any officer would find a way to punish you for questioning orders.

However here, Ceka would risk it. "Indulge me for one more minute, sir." She all but demanded, causing him to once again pay close attention to her. "I understand what you're doing. You want me to step up; to be something greater than I am. Because after hearing what I am trying to accomplish, you believe you have a better strategy than I do."

Her words caught him off guard. She didn't give him enough time to recover before she continued. "I acknowledge that I probably don't have the best strategy. However, if you are going to require me to bend to your plan for my own life, then you're going to need a better strategy to get me to follow along." Ceka held her head high, and hid her nerves behind a strong voice. "Because if there is anything I know you have learned from your test and our minimal interactions, it is that I am patient, especially when I am being beat down and discarded."

"This is your way of telling me you do not intend to abandon your methods?" He inquired.

"This is my way of showing you the merits of my methods." She clarified. "And hopefully, I will change your mind."

Thrawn scanned her face once again, coming to some unknown conclusion. "It is unwise to reveal your end goal to the enemy."

Ceka offered a modest smile. "You are not my enemy, sir."

With that, she turned on her heel and made her way out the door. Ceka's heart raced and she had to make a solid effort to slow her breathing. Right then she promised herself that arguing with him would be forbidden from there on out. That was far too dangerous, and it was a miracle Thrawn hadn't cut her off and refused to hear her out. He could have her off The Chimera by morning. But even then she knew that this was an empty promise.

-X-

As it turns out, eighty-four was the magical number of rejected reports before Grand Admiral Thrawn finally gives in and calls you into his office to renegotiate the terms of his orders. It took twenty-eight days to reach this point. Every day, she would eat her meals and write out a new report to the same mission, even if Thrawn had yet to notify her that the last one was rejected. Ceka stood in front of his desk once again, as he flipped through all eighty-four reports on the holoprojector.

It was one single mission. An investigation into disappearing medical supplies from a medicenter on Pantora, that Ceka had figured out pretty quickly. But every single one of them was worded to shine the light of success into anyone other than her.

Thrawn must have been looking for something in the reports, but he was coming up empty handed. It was another brief moment before he shut off the holoprojector. "I admit, I underestimated your talent for persistence."

She couldn't have been more excited to hear that from him. In all honesty, it was wearing her out. Finding new ways to reword the same events was exhausting. "However, what you have shown me is something I did not expect to find." He said, now slowly walking around his desk to circle her. "My attempt to outsmart you was quickly turned into a challenge to outlast you. However, it has answered more questions about you than I could ever ask."

"I am glad the experience was illuminating, sir." She was careful not to appear smug or prideful in any way, even if she was rather proud of herself for this.

"What has come to light is exactly how you managed to remain unseen by those that wish to do you harm, yet impress those that you wish to be more visible to." He explained. "I would like to see you put this to use more often."

"What do you have in mind, sir?"

"To start, I will rescind my orders to take more praise in your reports." Thrawn said, causing Ceka to smile. "In light of your tenacity, I have another duty for you. As it is already one of your many tasks on my ship to assess the officers and troopers for information leaks, I would also like you to send me reports of those who rise above their peers."

Ceka was surprised to receive such a request from him. "Pardon me, sir, but can't you select your elite by looking at the reports yourself?"

"It has occured to me that you are far from the only officer under my command that hides behind their more obnoxious coworkers and modest wording in reports. Unfortunately, due to their efforts, it is difficult to find the more competent workers of my fleet." He explained. "You are in a particularly beneficial position to solve this problem. Seeing as you are not only interacting with the lower ranks of my fleet on a closer level, you also know what to look for in those that possess the same skill set as you."

"It takes one to know one." Ceka chuckled awkwardly, knowing exactly what he meant. Honestly it was a miracle he even saw her point of view at all. Let alone be open to changing his mind and instead giving her an assignment that they both agreed would suit her talents. "I can do that, sir."

"That is much appreciated, agent." Thrawn said, "You are dismissed."

Ceka turned to leave, but she stopped herself. Once again the rules made her hesitate. It might not be professionalism at its best, but she would give herself this allowance. "Oh, grand admiral, sir?"

Thrawn turned to face her once more. He was no longer a stranger to how bold Ceka Lo could be, but this time she wasn't angry. Instead, she smiled kindly. "Thank you. For giving me a chance." It was a split second, so fast she wasn't even sure it was completely real; Thrawn returned with a small percentage of a smile to her.

There was a faster moment that Ceka felt herself take a moment to recover, where her heart stuttered at the sight of him just smiling for a fraction of a second. However it was gone the moment she reminded herself where she was and who he was. "Sir." She nodded with a stern voice, bidding him goodbye before she marched back out the office door.

It was rare a superior gave her the time of day. And so rare to be given respect and a smile that Thrawn was the first to offer after many, many years of serving the Empire. Ceka held onto that image in her mind every time someone would say anything hurtful, or when someone would do something rude. She allowed herself to remember Thrawn gave her a chance to prove herself, and he respected her for it.

There were moments that she stood in his office again, whether it be for a strategy meeting or a PSA for the higher ranked officers, Ceka hoped to whatever god in the galaxy was listening that she might catch another glimpse of his smile.

He smirked quite often, she found. Not that it was very easy to notice those either, but once she was watching, she noticed. It was usually when he was explaining his strategy to his officers that his expressions were slightly more discernible. For the most part, he kept the same even tone, and strong, calculated glare. Red eyes kept up with every little detail going on around him, and Ceka had to wonder exactly which details he noticed.

Really at this point, Ceka found she looked for any reason to be around Thrawn. He was an island of peace in an ocean of exhausting people. But what really made her start to worry was when he probably figured out he was her island.

It was rather chaotic in the aftermath of an attack. The way The Chimera was run made the battle itself run like a well oiled machine. However, trying to get everyone on the same page, especially if there were significant losses, was pretty much hell.

One particular flight officer was being specifically infuriating. She just wanted to know how many TIE fighters they had left. Ceka did not need to know who was flying, and who came back, or why only four fighters could land properly. Cykla went off on another tangent about how they were going to need repairs before she finally cut him off. "Cykla, just tell me how many TIE fighters we have left in the fleet."

Despite her even tone, Ceka had murder on her mind and it must have shown on her face with how he shut up immediately. "Six."

"Great…" She hissed out. "Now I can go to my job and tell the Grand Admiral we need more TIE fighters. You are dismissed, Cykla."

He gave a curt nod, running off to do whatever the hell else he had to to get this ship running at full capacity again. Ceka busied herself punching the numbers into a slow datapad, being on the verge of throwing it against a wall.

"I take it Officer Cykla was being difficult." Thrawn's voice made her jump slightly, but the second her eyes landed on him, she gave a small smile, and she visibly relaxed.

"Just a little slow." Ceka chuckled, still trying to hit the datapad to get the damn number to punch in. "Which seems to be a running theme today."

"Is there something wrong with your datapad, Agent?" He asked.

"I dropped it off the hyperdrive room railing when the ship was first hit. Didn't have the chance to get it back until a few minutes ago, but it looks like a few people might have stepped on it." She explained, knocking it against her montral and hearing something make a pinging sound echo around in her head. That couldn't be a good sign. "Well, that's unfortunate. I have a few nostalgic files on this datapad."

"I am curious of what you might keep on a datapad that one would find nostalgic." He said.

"Oh, it was just a few of the Pantora Medicenter Investigation reports I never got to give you. I kept writing them until you told me I could stop." She shrugged.

"How many reports did you write?" He asked with clear curiosity.

Ceka actually had to think hard for a moment. "You gave up at eighty-four, but I had a few extras on queue. I wrote a total of one-hundred-two reports."

Thrawn usually did a great job of hiding his emotions, but ever since Ceka started paying close attention to him, she began noticing the smallest expressions he gave. Right now his eyes went to the side, as though he had to give himself a moment to process that information. There were eighteen more reports on that one mission. All of them ready to be rejected, where she was ready to write more.

When he did look back to her, Ceka was smiling again, now trying to stop herself from laughing. "Do you find something amusing, Agent Lo?"

She really wished she could say no. Usually when a superior officer asked that question it just meant to stop smiling and take things seriously. However it was not in Thrawn's nature to use many euphemisms or human sayings, so he was genuinely asking. "Yes, sir." She nodded, still smiling as she explained herself. "It's not all that difficult to read your expressions. And when I told you how many reports I had written it was like every gear in your head stopped turning all at once. I thought it looked a little uncharacteristic is all."

Thrawn became more interested in her words. "I have rarely heard that it is easy to read my expressions. In fact most say the exact opposite."

Now it was her turn to stop and think. How in the hells did she hope to explain this to him? Was she supposed to tell Grand Admiral Thrawn that he spent just about every moment of every day hoping to see him, or that if she did get to see him that she carefully watched him in hopes of seeing him smile again? No, that would be very bad. But lying to a superior officer was quite specifically stated in the regulation.

"I'm in ISB. I guess I'm just very good at watching for small details." Both statements were true. She didn't have to tell him that the two statements had little to no correlation in reality or that she was only good at watching him for close details. Everyone else she just knew how to interrogate.

A beat of a moment went by before she caught it. Another split second where he gave a genuine smile, only for it to be gone the next second. The instant that passed by in silence before he answered felt like an eternity. "Indeed you are."

His answer left Ceka more distressed than trying to figure out how to avoid confessing her every private thought to him. Did he know she was hiding something? Did he know all along what she was doing? She wanted answers, but nobody but Thrawn could give them to her. She was all the more terrified of what those answers might be.

Though, it was nice to come back to her cabin late that night to find a new datapad waiting on her desk.

She didn't see Thrawn for a while after that. Not one on one, at least. She would occasionally catch him in the bridge as she was doing rounds with all the stations. Though when Ceka looked over to him out of habit, more often than not, he would already be closely observing her. Every time he did, she would tense up again and focus back on her work.

The heart stopping call came later that week. Thrawn asked to see her in his office once again. She had no idea what this could be about, and nothing about the last week really stood out. And especially not since their awkward conversation.

Though, he didn't waste any time as soon as she entered the art-filled space. Right away, she could tell something was up. Thrawn had never looked so worn out, not even after talking to the lieutenants. "Agent, if you are not currently indisposed, I would appreciate some assistance."

"What do you need?" Ceka asked without hesitation. Either she would get this over with or she would have to prepare herself for a long task.

"There was an incident with a terrorist group on the planet surface this afternoon. Unfortunately, Commander Bengts is on medical leave for the next three weeks, and since you and I are the only officers left with the clearance and skills necessary to review the reports, we are the only ones to be able to complete the processing." He explained.

"Would these usually just go into filing? Unless there's something specifically abnormal about this incident?" Thrawn had already sent the reports to her datapad.

"Yes. According to several eyewitness accounts, an imperial officer was seen giving information and weapons to three of the attackers just before it began."

Ceka took a long breath, calming her nerves. It didn't help that she was already on shaky ground with Thrawn as she was still questioning if he was aware of her growing fondness for him. Good thing endurance was her specialty, otherwise she would have given up the first time he smiled at her.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she came to her choice. "This probably means they're waiting on some kind of information to pass on. They're not yet ready for a full attack, which is why they simply aided the terrorists and didn't blow their cover. By your estimation, how long do we have before such an informant gets their hands on severely damaging information?"

"Depending on their rank, approximately two days. In the next fifty hours, I will be receiving a transmission from the Imperial headquarters on the surface to account for the current number of troopers on guard and officers working." He answered.

Ceka took her datapad and began searching through the reports. "The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can sleep." She said. "Unfortunately, time is not something we have the luxury of."

-X-

-Thrawn-

"Let us start with who was present on the ground during the attack-"

"No, we need to start with who exactly these terrorists are, and what they were doing. What was their mission? How did they accomplish it? Where did they escape to after its completion? Or if they completed their mission at all." Ceka interjected. "We've been here on Wutellou for about a standard month. Start with the locals. What do we know about them as a people?"

Her interruption surprised him to say the least. To be completely honest, she hadn't ever stopped surprising him. However, Ceka had the right approach to the problem. He was certain she would just let him take the lead, but it was becoming increasingly clear that despite her near religious commitment to subtlety, when it came to him she was anything but reserved the way she was with everyone else. It was easy to see why Agent Ceka Lo had captured Thrawn's attention.

"Tellouans are a very spiritual people. They also place most of their values into unity and connection to one another and their planet." He explained. "The population seems to worship the ground, as a way of giving respect to the very thing that gives them the vegetation they grow for food and spiritual practices."

"That… sounds awfully familiar."

"I imagine it would." He said, pulling up a few sources on his holoprojector. "Watellou shares many similarities with your homeworld, Shili."

"However, they're largely vegetarians, from what I can gather. There aren't many animals big enough to eat on Watellou." Ceka noted, in a somewhat short tempered way. "So, they probably aren't as culturally focused on hunting as my people."

Thrawn noted how she grumbled about the lack of meat on the planet. It had occurred to him that Togrutas were carnivores, and unable to eat most of the food served in the mess. Though, he did make sure she wasn't starving, even though there wasn't a whole lot of good food for Ceka to eat. "You did say they hold a deep connection to their planet." She recalled. "So, it would be a fair assumption that they don't want the Imperial agricultural project on their planet, since it is so sacred to them."

"That is logical, yes." He agreed. "Which means their attacks are not likely to be carried out on a large scale, so as not to harm the ground."

"Let's take a look at the reports." She turned to her datapad, connecting it with the holoprojector. "The report of the soldier that saw what type of weapons were being smuggled said they were E-11 blaster rifles. However weapons were not the only thing given to the insurgents."

"The inventory report after the attack states several crates of empty gas canisters were also missing." Thrawn pointed out. "An attack utilizing poison gas would assure the land attacked would not be harmed."

One look to Ceka proved she was enjoying herself while digging for information. "Guess what the most poisonous plant on Watellou is." A smile cracked across her cheeks as she pulled an info file of a simple flower onto the projector. "The Osella blossom is a flower that is only found in the very few coniferous forests on Watellou. The one closest to where the supply warehouse was attacked is owned by a local businessman, who employs many people to gather these flowers. Oddly enough, four days ago, he reported that a large portion of his freshly picked flowers had gone missing."

Thrawn looked over the file on the flowers. "Only the roots are poisonous. The flower petals are dried and used for a tea that is very popular among the locals. Boiling the roots will secrete a poisonous gas known as Lesurra gas." He read. "We know the insurgents are planning a large gas attack. More than likely on the Imperial command center that has been established."

"So we know what they want, how they plan to do it, and because of the information you will be getting in the next two days, we know when they plan to do it." Ceka concluded. "Now we just need to figure out who is planning to leak that information to them."

"Now we must narrow down the list of suspects based on reports." He said. Ceka took a deep breath, finding a seat on his desk as she began reading through reports.

The low light of the holoprojector illuminated her more now that she was seated right next to it. The blue light did little to change the tone of her skin. It was rare that Thrawn met many Togrutas in his line of work, however, even Ceka was certainly something of a rare specimen of her species.

When Thrawn was researching her, he found that the specific shades of light blue that showed on her skin were only found in two clans of the Lo Tribe, and nowhere else on Shili. Ceka had a very soft appearance. Her age wasn't shown anywhere other than the length of her lekku, which placed her perhaps a year or two younger than himself. Her montrals rounded backward off her head and spiked back up like horns. The patterns across her skin were soft, bubbled shapes that spread all around like water.

But it didn't take a military genius to know she was so much more vicious than her appearance suggested. Particularly her deep violet eyes, that scanned everything as though it could give her something if she just convinced it of such. Ceka bit her lip in focus on the task at hand. She was quite brilliant, even if she was convinced her only talents were in enduring brutal treatment. Thrawn wanted nothing more than to show her that she had other talents that could help her never see such brutal treatment ever again.

In some ways Thrawn noticed Ceka's favor of him, though usually only through her demeanor. It confused him how she could manage to be both comfortable expressing herself to him and rigid the second he acknowledged her comfort.

In many ways, Thrawn saw himself being drawn to her. He rarely bothered to know his subordinates more than basic research, and in truth, Ceka was one of only seven people to ever peak his interest enough to give them the test she passed with such ease. Her response had only heightened his curiosity of her character. Even this was an opportunity for him to learn more about her. And every time he learned something new, his interest only grew.

This was indeed going to be a long night.

-X-

It had been nearly eight hours. Four a.m. galactic standard time. Every report from the warehouse had been looked through, and even people that weren't planetside had been looked into. Nothing looked even remotely suspicious.

"I don't suppose you've already ruled out the possibility that they had someone impersonate an officer?" Ceka asked with a dragging voice. She laid on her back on Thrawn's desk, staring up at the holograms that still hadn't given them a lead.

"You ruled that out three hours ago." He reminded her. "If I recall correctly, you said a Tellouan with a skin color and texture similar to a human's would be more rare than finding one with horns small enough to fit into an officer's uniform. I also agreed, stating that using an infiltrator would not guarantee they would be able to get the information they need for their attack."

"You're right." Ceka groaned, rubbing her eyes again. "Either way, we're running out of time. Forty-seven hours to find a traitor with no leads is damn near impossible."

"You say 'near impossible.' Is there something you believe would make the task at hand possible?" He asked.

"The ability to drink three gallons of caf in a minute would be helpful." She said, "More people to look through the reports would be useful. Many hands make for light work, after all, but alerting our subordinates that there is a traitor amidst them is too high of a risk. I think it's impossible to find the culprit in time with only two people."

Thrawn was impressed with Ceka in the eight hours they had spent together theorizing and even arguing at times. However, he would admit he would have never gotten this far on his own, this fast. Most of the investigation is credited to Ceka. It was his job to help her investigate, then come up with a plan once they had found their traitor.

"Agent, you are an exemplary investigator. If there is anyone that can accomplish this in the given timeframe, it is you." He said.

Suddenly, Ceka sat up. About a million thoughts looked to be passing behind her eyes before she settled on one. "Timeframe…." Her voice was quiet, as she once again took control of the holoprojector, still sitting on his desk. "We're looking at the wrong timeframe."

She pulled up personnel files from everyone who was planetside for the last four days. "Remember, four days ago, the report of a missing batch of Osella flowers was given by a local businessman?" She asked. "We know his own employee probably stole them, right?"

"That was the logical conclusion, yes." Thrawn agreed.

"First, what if the traitor isn't working alone?"

"Then I suppose only half of the information would be present in the reports of the warehouse attack. The other half would be with someone we have already ruled out, thus making it impossible for us to find the culprits on those reports, alone." He reasoned. "Who do you suspect?"

"Four days ago, Commander Bengts was hospitalized. The morning after the Osella flower batch went missing." Ceka explained with a smile on her face, searching for a minute before pulling up the commander's medical file.

Thrawn read the file thoroughly before landing on something that Ceka must have known would be there by the way she smiled. "Reason for hospitalization: Toxin inhalation." He read out loud.

He turned to Ceka once again, only to find her still smiling. "We can order a test for the Osella toxin and have the results in the next two hours."

"That only leaves her accomplice." Thrawn noted, searching through the reports again to see which officer specifically has been stationed with Commander Bengts for their assignment to Watellou. One name stuck out. "Supply Officer Cykla was planetside, stationed at the warehouse during the attack." He pointed out. "Cykla was also the officer that filled out the inventory report of what was stolen. And has also been assigned to the command center tomorrow to report inventory, where he will have access to the transmissions being sent from the command center."

Ceka placed her feet on the ground, standing tall, but a little wobbly from the sleep deprivation. "Shall I set up interrogations, sir?"

"No need." He ordered. "I will give the order to have Commander Bengts tested for the Osella toxin, and I shall reassign Officer Cykla to accompany me to organize the information from the command center. He will be forced to abandon his original plan and act in panic, giving us the evidence we need to incriminate him."

"I can help, sir. You don't need to carry this out alone." She was nearly pleading even if she could keep it behind a thin layer of professionalism.

"I am sure you can offer your skills to the mission. However you are sleep deprived, and until you are well rested, you would be unnecessarily placing yourself in harm's way if you were to continue like this." Thrawn reasoned. "As of now, you are relieved of duty until you have recovered."

"But, sir-"

"That is an order, Agent Lo." His voice became stern, but as he watched Ceka, she appeared to halted all cognitive thought as she suppressed a shiver. Thrawn noticed how her face became hot and the muscles around her throat tightened. He was unaware that Togrutas not only blushed on their face, but also their lekku.

Ceka had to force herself to breath again. "Yes, sir." Was all she could get out from behind tense muscles and a figure frozen in place.

"You are dismissed."

She marched off in a hurry, though Thrawn didn't get the impression that she was scared at all. In fact she seemed to be enjoying herself quite a bit.

Thrawn decided to focus on the task at hand. He had just barely learned the nuances of human behavior, he didn't have the time to figure out what made Ceka tick before his command center was eradicated.

-X-

-Ceka Lo-

After Thrawn had commanded her to get some sleep, Ceka was having a surprising amount of difficulty letting go of consciousness. There was a lot to process, particularly about how the entire night had gone.

She hadn't meant to so casually sit on his desk, though when he didn't stop her or even mention it, Ceka allowed herself to get comfortable. They had started the night speaking with formalities, though as time progressed and exhaustion began to take hold, she began interrupting him when she felt like it, as he would for her. She swore a few times without any shame. When she laid down on his desk, he didn't say anything. She took every liberty, and Thrawn gave them without any question.

But at the very end of it all, the order he gave her wasn't what surprised her. It was her own reaction to how he spoke. Heat shot up her spine and she stood at complete attention. What shocked her was that she honestly didn't expect to be given an order, despite everything Ceka had drilled into her head from day one at the academy. Somehow, she felt comfortable enough around Thrawn that it was a surprise when he did normal, imperial, things.

Though, even then Ceka knew this could only be the beginning of something terrible.

-X-

Somehow she managed to pass out after an hour. When she awoke again, everything appeared to be working smoothly. No trooper was out of place, no officer looked worried, and all was as though Ceka never fell asleep in the first place. Though, a quick look at her wrist chrono told her it had been nearly six hours.

Walking through corridors to Thrawn's office, she found something must be working well. There were two troopers standing guard instead of just one. "I take it Cykla is in there?"

"Yes sir." The command trooper confirmed. The other flinched when he spoke. Suddenly the other trooper was very interesting.

"Is something bothering you, trooper?" Ceka asked with a warm smile. She wasn't ignorant of her appearance. She was rather soft looking, and it was easy for people to underestimate her or trust her. Most people she interrogated were more likely to trust a non-human because of how rare they were in the Empire.

The trooper stood firmly at attention. "No sir." There was something off about his voice. Though, with two words, it was difficult to place.

"It's ok to be anxious. I'm sure anyone would be worried once they wondered why the grand admiral doubled the security in his office." She suggested. The trooper must have been eyeing her cautiously behind his helmet.

"I assure you, I'm fine sir." He said. Now Ceka could place it.

"You won't be." Before he could even flinch, she knocked the blaster out of his hand and rammed his head into the wall. The command trooper aimed his gun at the two of them, unsure as to what was going on. "At ease, soldier." She said, taking the helmet off the unconscious criminal, revealing dark green skin, and very small horns for one of his kind. "He was probably back up."

"How did you know?"

"His Tellouan accent." She said, restraining the prisoner. "Now I just need to see what his plan was. Take him to containment. I'll stand guard here."

"Yes, sir." He replied faithfully, throwing the infiltrator over his shoulder and carrying him away. Ceka pulled her blaster out, and set it to stun, now waiting for Cykla to make a break for it.

A loud crash came from inside the office, and the door hissed open. She stunned Cykla as soon as she laid eyes on him. Thrawn looked between Ceka and the man on the floor with mild amusement. "May I set up interrogations now, sir?"

Thrawn calmly caught his breath, wiping some of the blood off his cheek. "Yes, Agent Lo, that would be the wisest course of action."

...

Thrawn and Ceka stood together, watching the live feed from the two interrogation rooms, waiting for Cykla to regain consciousness. The Tellouan infiltrator nervously fiddled with the cuffs on his wrists, probably trying to find a way to break them off.

"Commander Bengts tested positive for the Osella toxin." Thrawn said, "She has been placed under arrest, but is still recovering."

"We'll need more evidence if we want to convict her. Getting one of these two to admit she's an accomplice should be enough, but I am not confident they'll talk for anything short of their freedom." She noted, looking at the two of them. Cykla was now gaining consciousness, frantically looking around the room and struggling against the restraints.

"Perhaps striking a deal with them is necessary."

Something was finding Ceka rather uncomfortably, and she wanted nothing more than to tear it apart to find out what exactly made it that way. It was Officer Cykla. He's panicking and struggling far too much for someone that had a decent plan until now.

"Perhaps not." She said, exiting the observation room and entering the interrogation.

-Thrawn-

Cykla was quick to stop moving as soon as Ceka entered the room. She didn't say anything as she sat down on the table to his left.

Thrawn couldn't see much from here, yet at the very least he could tell she wasn't trying to be imposing. She reached across the table and released his restraints, sitting back on the table comfortably and without any sign of defensiveness.

She was waiting for something. Pushing this man to the edge of something, but waiting for him to jump off on his own. Ceka remained silent. From the angle of the holorecorder, Thrawn couldn't see her face, but he almost intrinsically knew she was giving her subject a kind smile.

The silence must have become unbearable to the human. "What do you want, Lo?"

"I thought you'd never ask." She said, "You see, a witness at the scene of the attack yesterday saw you aiding the terrorists in their escape, but there's something that's gone completely unanswered, and I want you to give it to me."

"I'm not about to turn on my allies." He hissed back at her.

"Oh- no you aren't. Certainly not yet." She said, "At least not without a reason to. I happen to be in a position to get you just a year of community service, and a dishonorable discharge from the Imperial Navy. Where you can live out the rest of your life doing whatever you want."

"And what in the hells makes you think I value myself over my cause?"

"Why shouldn't you?" She asked as though she were genuinely concerned. "I've seen how much value your life has. And I believe it's worth more than being executed on a treason charge." Cykla broke eye contact and stared at the floor. "I'm not a fool enough to believe you don't have people you're doing this for. Wouldn't it be better to go home and see them again?"

Cykla came to his conclusion quickly. "I want to negotiate those terms." He said.

"Then negotiate."

"I tell you who my associate is, and I take the blame for everything." He said, "Everything was my idea, and she was forced to take orders from me. She gets to live."

"Cykla, you will be executed for this."

"But she won't." He stated. "I want this agreement in writing. So you can't back out after I'm gone."

"Your accomplice must mean quite a lot to you." Ceka noted.

"She is everything and more to me." He said.

Ceka stood from the table and exited the interrogation chamber. Making her way back to the observation room where Thrawn was waiting for her.

She was clearly torn by the situation. She began tapping through her datapad.

"What are you looking for?" Thrawn asked.

"Commander Bengts' medical record." She said, "I have a strong suspicion about why Cykla is so desperate to protect her."

"And why would that be?" Thrawn asked, curious about what Ceka saw that he missed.

Suddenly she stopped scrolling, her shoulders deflating in defeat. Handing the datapad to him, she pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned against the wall, perhaps in regret.

Thrawn looked at the data on the medical file. It was a few pages after the tox screen results, so it wasn't important at the time they were initially investigating. However, it was possibly the most important piece of information in the whole investigation. "She's pregnant."

Ceka nodded. Now it made more sense why she was so torn on this decision. "Tell me I'm being too soft." Her voice held strong, but the tensity in her muscles said otherwise about her emotions. "Tell me we should just execute them both, and move on with our lives. That it's better to just manipulate his confession and charge them both with treason like every other officer would."

"Do you truly believe that to be the wisest course of action in this case?" Thrawn asked.

"I want to believe it is in my best interest."

"Yet you are still questioning it."

"By Imperial Law, I need a confession from him to charge her. But if he doesn't confess to her being an accomplice, then there's nothing I can do, and at most she'll be medically discharged." Ceka went through her thought process. "Either way, Cykla is going to be charged with treason. There's no way I can get around that."

"Then perhaps you don't want him to give up Bengts." Thrawn suggested. "She will be medically discharged, and you don't live with that on your conscience."

"I can't allow Imperial Law to be determined by the weight on my conscience." She argued.

"Then don't allow it." He stated.

"It'll be a failed interrogation on my near flawless record."

"Attempting to rationalize the less favorable option will not help you make the decision you have already made."

Ceka bit her lip and closed her eyes. She took a moment to take a deep breath before neutralizing her expression and leaving to speak to Cykla again.

On the holoscreen, Ceka stood to her full height. "We will not abide by such an agreement for your accomplice."

"You what!?" Cykla burst. "You can't! She has to live!"

"It will take more investigation, but I am confident that I can find a name without your help." She calmly exited the room as Cykla struggled against the handcuffs.

Ceka didn't return to the observation room.

#thrawn x reader #thrawn x oc #thrawn #original chatacter #original story #star wars #ceka lo

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empty-dream · 3 years

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So I read 86 LN vol 1

S1 anime covers the entire Vol 1 except for the latter's epilogue, so full anime spoiler here.

And as of this writing, I'm still on Vol 2 so the things I mention here are solely those that happen in Vol 1. Idk if a thing happens in the latter volume, gotta dodge spoiler so I don't browse about it.

There was an interview with a person inside the anime industry that basically said "The point of an anime adaptation is not to be an exact replica of the original material, but to shine as its own medium for a story." I forgot who it was and I can't find the interview anywhere for the life of me, but that statement opened my eyes. I agree with it, that's why I can appreciate the differences between LN/manga and anime, especially if they turn out good and/or interesting.

And that's exactly what happens in 86. I'll start with this: I watched the anime first, and after I read the Vol1 novel, I actually like the anime more. Because there are a lot of meaningful original scenes in it

And because the Vol1 novel turns out exactly what I fear when I first watched the anime: that I won't care much about the squadron aside from the main 5. (Look, the anime promotional materials mostly only have Lena and those 5 only. As shocked as I was in the anime, I did have an idea where the story would go from those alone). The rest are barely mentioned. Not even the girls are named in the novel, even though they do talk and Lecca is even prominent in anime.

For example, the second half of the first episode, the one that shows Spearhead squadron's daily life right before Lena contacts them, is anime original scenes. Kujo already dies the moment the novel starts focusing on the squadron. Simply put, a lot of the squadron members that aren't the main 5 or Kaie get a *lot* more focus in the anime, like Daiya, Haruto (For characters who appear on the introduction page, their novel screen time is less than I'd expect), Kujo and Lecca. While the other members often appear in the background and actually behave like equal members instead of glue-them-on figurines.

(Idk if those other members are named and/or designed in the light novel before the anime is a thing or when the anime becomes a thing.)

The anime also adds relevant information in the Raiden's talk with Lena in EP7, like Kaie receiving racial abuse from 86 (in fact in both versions, she is the first one to get highlighted about this) and Haruto also having prominent Giadian Empire blood like Anju and Shin. These weren't in the novel.

I might be just nitpicking here because I love Kaie and Haruto, but see, this scene is amazing on its own. This is where Raiden and the squad reveal the weight of their motivation all along, that they *each* have different backgrounds and different kinds of sufferings, yet they are all sentenced to die, and they all choose to fight because they know no side is saintly but some things are still worth fighting for.

The prominent characters' deaths (besides Kaie's) are often mentioned with only one or two dry lines. I expected at least Daiya's to be detailed more, but it's just that so matter-of-fact-ly. Well I came from the anime, so I guess it's normal if I expected something as heartbreaking.

I broke down HARD at the last half of EP10 and that is nowhere in the Vol 1 novel. (Having Hands Up to the Sky playing in the background is also an advantage for being an anime. Fuck that song, I now play it 24/7 in despair)

Having a lot of original anime scenes really complement the story's nature. That there are two different sides of life here, it's not just Lena's or 86's only. And those couldn't have intertwined if not for their willingness to listen and communicate.

I know I mentioned this some days ago but really, I can't get over how many of the merch are Lena (and Annette) being cute doing cute stuff while the story itself is actually depressing. Merch staffs know the market lol.

- Novel side -

That said, the novel does have an advantage that the anime/visual media doesn't: Internal explorations and explanations.

It's obvious from the get-go, but Asato confirms that the inspiration of Republic of San Magnolia and its racial discrimination and genocide is taken from Nazi Germany in WW2. The Republic who favors the white/silver haired-eyed Alba drives Colorata out of the 85 sectors, overtakes their properties, and forcibly sends the now-called-86 to either fight their war and die, or work on the wall and die.

The life inside the Republic is also elaborated on. Class always exists, even inside one race only. The center of the republic is for the elites, Lena and Annette's families included. The farther a sector is from the center, the lower the education and economy there is. Most of the military come from these areas, which explains why Lena herself is in difficult situation. Since no one in the military is either capable or willing to bring change.

It's *insane* how easily the Republic could create such vile lies, and how easily the majority of the citizens go along with it.

Gotta admit, Asato does a good job at foreshadowing the fate of the 86, the truth that we can only see after Ep7 of anime. It is mentioned that supposedly, 86 soldiers will be welcomed back once their 5-years term is up. Lena once wonders about it, but ultimately she buys it thinking that surely they must have come back to another sector. She only realizes it's utter bullshit after Annette points out how, 9 years later, they have never seen even one Colorata inside the Republic when they should have seen at least some. This also shows that Lena has never ventured to the other sectors to find out more, probably due to work or maybe she's still a sheltered noblewoman in the end.

And the mentality of the majority of Alba is shown differently. Whereas the anime uses the academy classroom to show how deeply rooted the racism against 86 is, the novel uses Lena's mother who a) more or less does the same as the classroom, and b) presses Lena to get married and preserve their pure noble bloodline. This, when the nobility doesn't actually mean anything anymore. This version shows not only Alba's racism but also Lena's strained family life.

There is a scene of an Alba high school valedictorian who, during his graduating speech, says “My friends died fighting the Legion.” I’m not sure this will make it to the anime, and it’s just a minor scene in the novel, but the weight of that scene is heavy.

The science of Para-Raid is explained, which has something to do with tapping the collective consciousness of humanity and connecting it to one another. A bit far-etched but I guess that works, science fiction and all. But I like the part where despite (or maybe because?) of connecting via hearing only, the other senses are faintly receptive as well. For example, one can sense that the other side is biting their lips in frustration, something like that. Of course, actual real life things like sensing the hidden bitterness or elation in a talking partner's words are present, this being a story where listening matters.

The novel elaborates on Raiden's stay with the Alba old woman. He calls her Old Hag, but it's clear he greatly respects her. The part where she screams and curses in the middle of the road at the Republic soldiers who take Raiden and the other children away stays in Raiden's mind forever, and so it does to me. Ngl it is quite a chilling scene.

Same with the story of the previous Laughing Fox, Theo's Alba commander. It turns out, the entirety of Theo's first squadron didn't like him at all and bet on how fast he'd tuck tail and run back to the Republic. When he faced his death the way Theo explained, he sent a message to Theo revealing he knew about it and knew his place to not ask for acknowledgment or forgiveness. This made Theo regret why he didn't try to talk more with his commander and he keeps thinking about it forever. Now it makes even more sense why Theo, blunt as he is, is willing to listen to Lena and when he snaps, he wonders if his late commander would do the same.

What actually happens in Kurena's backstory is also touched upon. While in the anime some viewers could think "Man, I get where you're coming from but chill out." The novel graphically shows her parents being toyed on by the Alba soldiers while her sister protected her, the two could only watch, and then the same sister got sent to the battlefield to die. Now at that, anyone would think "Man, no wonder she can't chill out. Not with all that trauma."

I also like the addition that Lena can sense Kurena is the one who dislikes her the most.

The novel describes greatly that it isn't just Alba and Non-Alba. Essentially speaking, Non-Alba is called Colorata, and they consist of different race groups as well. Just as Alba is associated with the color silver/white, the other race have their associated colors as well. Asato assigns races to the named members in Vol1 and what their distinguished color features are. This also explains why Anju is exiled despite looking like an Alba.

It's a question that I pondered on when I first saw Shin's armor plates, and that I pondered harder on when Chise died: What happens if there is no armor plate to carve its processor's name's on? So it turns out Shin would substitute it with anything; piece of wood or some random piece of metal. For Chise's case, Raiden, Chise's leader, suggested using the wing of Chise's in-progress airplane model. Which did my heart so bad because I'm strangely fond of Chise and finding out that in his spare time in his limited lifespan, he was working on an airplane model made me sob.

I'm not particularly into mecha, and could care less about how it moves. But Asato did a good job describing the fight between a glorified suicide car and a line of brand-new solid A-grade tanks. Special mention to I-IV because wow the concept arts for all the mechas are so cool, even though I don't really understand. (Asato even said to I-IV "Go draw a tank so horrible it's stupid for the Juggernaut" and I-IV came up with the current Juggernaut)

You know how the Republic greeting is "Glory to San Magnolia and the five-colored flag"? I won't disclose who says this in what situation, but there is someone of Colorata saying "If you hate colors so much, you should have just colored your flag white" AND OOOH THE BURN SO HOT HOT HOT

Tl;dr: Bottom line is, I personally enjoy Vol 1 because I already watched the anime and got attached to it. If I were to read the vol 1 first, most likely I wouldn't fall this hard for the series. Hell, maybe I wouldn't even pick it up in the first place because I knew it'd be depressing. But this is not to say that the LN is bad. It’s very good, it just does not really touch the lives of other soldiers whereas that’s the very thing that I love from the anime.

#86 #eighty six #random saying #not sure if i have put all my thoughts here so maybe ill edit sometime later

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snarksandsarcasm · 4 years

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Styx: Shards Of Darkness

Sorting The Shards Into A Useful Picture

SoD features A LOT of events, quite a few characters but not so many clear motivations and even less connected boss fights. As with the MoS timeline, I will rather present a cohesive explanation of what happened, filling in some blanks and trying to connect things in a more satisfactory way.

After the fall of Akenash, Styx made his way down the mountain range and rivers towards the more temperate climates of the lush but wet city of Thoben. He arrived there mere months after the incident and has stayed there ever since.

Day 1 - Early Evening

Styx completes a small job for Ephron and heads out to meet him and settle the deal.

After Ephron leaves, a CARNAGE squad has Styx surprised, but instead of killing him, their leader Helledryn offers a deal. She wants the scepter given to human Ambassador Arsidi in exchange for quite a few bottles of Amber. Styx accepts. He will join the Ambassadors airship and deliver the scepte to Helledryn, who is following behind on her own private airship.

Styx has been in Thoben for decades and has earned himself a reputation for being an excellent thief and assassin that doesn’t ask to many questions. Helledryn has thus come to hear about him, possibly via Ephron, and decided to engage his services.

Ambassador Arsidi collects resources from Thoben, a trading hub in the region, about once a month. He has been here already, but his men return to grab a delayed delivery. Styx uses that chance to hop onto that airship (via a box) and join the main vessel. (Alternatively: Styx triggers an alarm upon his approach to the airship which then leaves immediately. He instead nicks a small transporter airship and follows the larger vessel.)

Day 2 - Morning

After making his way onto the main vessel, Styx finds the Ambassador dead hidden inside a cupboard. Without concern he proceeds to the scepters location.

Arsidi shows up and inserts a pure Quartz into the scepter. Styx’s attack fails and Arsidi shapeshifts into his true form, dark elf Djarak. They have a short confrontation that ends with Styx being thrown out of the windows, Djarak turning into a human guard and blaming a goblin to have taken the scepter.

Styx admits defeat and retreats, using a small air balloon to join Helledryn’s ship nearby. Djarak remains on the airship as Ambassador Arsidi.

Same Day - Afternoon

Styx failed his assignment. But considering he now has a personal score to settle with Djarak, he is happy to make up for his mistake and help Helledryn further (with additional favours charged, of course).

We learn that Helledryn is interested in politics (and its effect on her career) and knowing what goes on before everyone else will put her at a distinct advantage. The scepter served as invitation to a secret summit held inside the walls of Korrangar by Lyssril, their leader.

So Styx is dropped off nearby and makes his way inside. He forges the expected incoming vessels to include Helledryn’s ship and secures a general entry pass, provided to all foreigners to Korrangar.

Once inside, Helledryn proceeds on her airship to a mooring place, while Styx has a first look around to find out more about Djarak.

Styx learns that Djarak was expelled, but again seen a couple of days ago inside Korrangar. The other elves despise him openly and display their general hatred towards foreigners and their willingness to kill

Our goblin is at the right time at the right place and witnesses a very special ritual: “The Glorious Blood”. Under the eyes of Lyssril, their leader, and Maolak, their high priestess, the two most accomplished male warriors fight each other to death. The winner is being sacrificed to Lakima, a large mysterious underground critter.

Before Styx returns to Helledryn’s airship, he comes by an Amber storeroom. He learns that Lyssril provides her people with a daily dose of Amber and that those who refuse to take it, are being ostracized, punished, expelled or even killed for their disobedience. Djarak falls into this category. Amber allows a shared mind, one that Lyssril aims to exploit and steer in any way she likes. Styx wonders where the Amber comes from, since they are still on human territory and Akenash’s Amber production has stopped 45 years ago.

Coming back to “home”, Styx and Helledryn rest for the night.

Day 3 - Morning

It is the day of the Ambassadors summit. Helledryn has under some sort of pretence managed to find out who was invited to the meeting: Mahrlok (and his son Arkail) for the orcs of the South, the dwarf Ambassador. and several human Ambassadors, notably from the two biggest kingdoms under the human Empire, Catfish and Solares, the latter being represented by Aaron Barimen (not yet known to Styx).

Djarak has initially taken on the form of Ambassador Arsidi in order to get in but thanks to Styx’s meddling with various entry passes, Arsidi is forced to stay outside the Sanctum. So Djarak takes over the Catfish Ambassador instead for the summit itself. Styx will do some digging and find out who it is, so that Helledryn can flush him into Styx’s direction.

To allow Helledryn access into the Inner Sanctum, the place of the summit, Styx steals a special pass (that even Kastesil have to carry if they want access) and a female guard uniform that will allow her to pass off as a dark elf.

Upon reaching the outer Sanctum, Styx passes the items over to Helledryn. She managed to get that far when other outsiders are nearly killed for trespassing. We are not told how she achieves this, but she might have some Amber on hand to do a little bit of convincing here and there (easy enough on an Amber addicted population), use stealth herself or simply violence to get past an obstacle.

The Sanctum houses the Catfish and Solares embassies. Eavesdropping on the elves leads Styx to the dead body of the Catfish Ambassador. With that information he returns to Helledryn.

The summit starts. Lyssril demonstrates how the scepter with a crystal of pure Quartz can serve as magical weapon against the Green Plague. The energy of the Quartz has an effect on the Amber creature, freezes it and forces it to do anything the wielder of the scepter commands. She offers the Quartz scepters to the people of the continent for free and invites them to use it to catch goblins alive. She further promises to buy those goblins from them with gold. She does not explain why and the summit ends the moment Helledryn tries to get Djarak in disguise to come outside. Djarak knows he has been spotted, reveals himself and tries to assassinate Lyssril. Her bodyguards stop him, injure him and force him to retreat.

Djarak’s injury bleeds and he leaves a trail behind, which Styx follows. They have a small confrontation during which Styx manages to steal Djarak’s small Quartz necklace. With that in his hands, Styx is satisfied and leaves without any further action.

Both, Styx and Helledryn, return to her airship and Djarak goes back into hiding.

Helledryn states her confusion over the nature of the summit but she must have anticipated something of this kind. Styx rightfully suggests she ponders over her future career options.

Day 4 - Morning

Having seen the demonstration of the Quartz at the summit, Styx is greatly interested in that power and he uses his alchemistic skills to have a look at Djarak’s necklace. It may be smaller, but radiates more power than that of the Quartz scepters. Consumption of it’s finely ground powder allows Styx to develop his skills greatly. Djarak revealed that they mine it below Korrangar, so Styx ventures down there to get some more Quartz.

After going through the barracks of the mining operation, he stumbles into Lakima, the worshipped critter the elves sacrifice their very best warriors to. Somehow this giant creature takes Quartz crystals and imbues them with their improved magical powers to subdue Amber creatures.

Because Styx has no sense of self-preservation, he takes on Lakima and kills her. Her death is very soon discovered by the elves, and because Styx cannot keep his mouth shut, they are now looking for a talking goblin.

Styx returns to Helledryn, ready to go home with the Quartz he has secured for himself.

Same Day - Afternoon

The death of Lakima has put all of Korrangar on alert. It is not so much directed at the foreigners but they do feel an even rougher side of the elves as they already have. Helledryn warns Styx that he cannot stay on her airship. The elves have put everyone on lockdown and all airships are thoroughly searched. He needs to be smuggled out. She heard that the Korrangar goblin prison is connected to Wildoran by the foot of the Korrangar cliff. If he was to blend in with the other rakash, Helledryn can in elven disguise assist him with his gear.

So Styx ditches his his clothes (except for his underwear), lets himself be delivered to the elves, thrown into prison and starts his way home.

Styx learns that pure Quartz crystals are installed throughout Korrangar for the Quartz weapons to be recharged and he decides to take each and every single one of them. Even stark naked.

Day 5 - Morning

In Wildoran, Styx has two options to return to Thoben. Use the Thoben airship that happens to be moored here, or have a boat deliver him back. Dropping by the airship he learns that the airship captain is in prison and that he lost his ownership title to another guy. Styx drops by the prison and finds out that the captain is Ephron. The dealer started to sell goblins to the elves and delivered his first batch to Wildoran two days ago, but got himself in prison after an “argument” over a lost game of cards. If Styx can recover his ownership letter for his airship (and free him from behind bars) he would be happy to take Styx back to Thoben.

Even though Lyssril only offered the scepters to the other peoples two days ago, she has for some time now, bought goblins from hunters everywhere. If goblins can make easy money this surely is being spread around. Helledryn, earning her money and career as goblin slayer and not goblin seller, must have noted this. After all, the increase of freelance hunters cause less goblins to be slayed by CARNAGE, decreasing her income and career prospects. This is the reason of her taking such lengths to get into the summit.

Styx steals the ownership papers from Ephron’s playing partner and returns with Ephron on his airship to Thoben. (Alternative: Styx ignores Ephron and simply grabs the drunken Captain he played against and drags him to his (water) ship for a forced ride back home to Thoben).

Once back in Thoben, Styx returns to his old ways, cursing Helledryn for not showing up with her promised Amber.

3 Weeks Later

Day 1 - Evening

Helledryn had to leave her airship in Korrangar but managed to leave regardless. Making her way back to Thoben took her quite some time as she had to take the land route there. She had left her squad and resources in Thoben, but by the time she returns, Grab-Jack and Arlock preferred to deal goblins with the elves, deserting CARNAGE. Bringing the Quartz weapons to Thoben in the last three weeks allowed them both to take over the Thoben Guild. The other members of Helledryn’s CARNAGE squad joined serving under them. However, the locals have found Helledryn to be an impressive woman and wonder where she went and agree how much better a leader she’d be compared those two idiots.

Helledryn manages to meet Styx in his hideout, after contacting Ephron again. She reports to Styx about the lost loot, herself angry and drunk. No more CARNAGE job for her, no more people to command and a dept to a speaking goblin who she would have killed without hesitation 4 weeks prior to all this.

Styx is pissed also. He ventures out to kill those two traitors and hopes to convince Helledryn to take on the Guild leadership.

Both, Grab-Jack and Arlock have enemies of their own, that with a bit of deliberate interference by Styx, end up doing the dirty work for the goblin.

Upon his return to his hideout, Styx finds Helledryn unconscious and tied. Before noticing the presence of the two dark elves, he gets knocked out himself.

Day 2 - Early Morning

He remains unconscious until he is back in Korrangar, where he is being tied and hung up inside the chambers of the Rite Of Passage. His blood will be spilled for the victors of this ritual.

The Rite Of Passage marks the beginning of adulthood for the young Kastesils. When coming to age, they must go through a series of bloody and possibly lethal trials, that will test their strength, agility, faith and so, before they are accepted as worthy adults. The Elders, quite literally the older generation, are present to not just oversee the young ones. but to also test their reactions and defense. They kill any unsuspecting young one unless the young one fights and strikes the killing blow first.

Styx is released from his bound state by a knife thrown at the rope. He cannot see who it was at this point and to find out he will need to open the large gate and leave this area. So he follows the young ones and goes through each trial in order to open the gate.

In one trial, Styx finds Helledryn. She does not need rescuing from the cage she is in, however, she asks if Styx could take care of a large troll in the vicinity, which he does. She reminds the goblin that her airship is still moored in Korrangar and so Styx leaves her behind to proceed.

After completing the trials, Styx opens and sneaks through the gate. He is being awaited by none other than Djarak, the shape shifting dark elf. Styx does not trust him but has no choice but to listen to him and form an alliance. They retreat to Helledryn’s airship, still moored in the same spot.

Djarak informs Styx that Lyssril can control creatures of Amber. It is not clear how she does so. Styx is an exception due to his advanced training and experience, however, she can sense his location. That is why he was found in Thoben. This becomes a problem for Styx, as he really values his privacy and freedom.

The dark elf explains further that the fragile coalition between dwarfs and dark elves have allowed Lyssril to advance her schemes. Mining the Quartz, catching the goblins, securing the Amber… it was all possible due to the support of the dwarfs. To take Lyssril down, it is important to break that allianz. He suggest to have the dwarf ambassador killed in such a way that the elves are to blame. Styx agrees.

Djarak does more research on his own, regarding Lyssril’s large reserves of Amber to supply all her people with.

Styx leaves to find Maolak inside the Sanctum and steal her sacred ceremonial dagger.

The Ambassadors of Catfish and Solares are still housed in the Sanctum and it is there that Styx runs into Aaron Barimen again. After letting Aaron go in Akenash, he now corrects his mistake and kills him here.

On the way to the dwarf embassy, Styx comes by the orc embassy and witnesses Mahrlok berating his son, Arkail, for having needlessly smashed an elf’s head.

Since the dwarf Ambassador is always surrounded by his bodyguards, Styx decides to lure him out into a more secluded area with a fake offer of cheap Quartz. They meet there, Styx kills him and leaves Maolak’s dagger behind.

Styx pilfers a paper in dwarf language about some sort of machine and shows it to Djarak upon his return.

(Not shown in the game) Meanwhile, Helledryn has managed to get out of the cage as she told Styx. She manages to take over one the guards again and dress as a dark elf to sneak out via the prison - Wildoran route. She reaches there the next morning.

Day 3 - Morning

Djarak has had a look at the paper and tells Styx that it is a machine that can produce Amber. Styx has heard the dwarfs talk about a machine as well when he was out the day before. The dark elf wants to destroy it so that Lyssril has no more Amber to subdue his people but Styx is against it. He loves Amber. Djarak swears on the power of Quartz and promises Styx that he would be free from the need to consumer Amber if he only embraced it. So Styx reluctantly agrees to help destroy the machine, sitting below the prison of Korrangar.

First, he will need to find himself some explosives strong enough to create such destruction. Djarak knows where to find them: dwarven made, in Wildoran.

Styx has little trouble collecting three bombs in Wildoran. The dwarfs have already heard of the death of their Ambassador and are leaving Wildoran, ready and eager for a war.

Back in Korrangar, by the prison, Styx places the three bombs in strategic locations in order to destroy Lyssril’s Amber resources: One by the underground connection to Wildoran to stop new rakash from coming in, one by the laboratories, so that the blood Amber drawn cannot be distilled or further distributed to smaller, consumable portions, and one in the heart of the Amber reserve itself.

While Djarak looks at the destruction as a way to free his people from Lyssril’s authoritarian rule, Styx’s heart bleeds at the loss of Amber.

Since the death of the dwarf Ambassador just about 24 hours ago, the elves killed all dwarves inside Korrangar. All foreigners, namely the Ambassadors and their staff in their newly established embassies, have left. And among them, to the disappointment of the Kastesil, Lyssril with her bodyguards. Many lament the lack of her soothing thoughts and fear she betrayed them, that Djarak was right after all.

The exhausting day ends and Djarak and Styx return to Helledryn’s airship for some rest.

(Not in the game) Helledryn being separated from Styx and officially out of his dept, takes whatever airship or boat to return to Thoben.

Day 4 - Early Morning

Styx congratulates Djarak on his stupid plan: Free the elves by creating a war. Djarak defends his position, claiming that his people are strong and prefer death over slavery to a dictator and he confirms again that Lyssril has left Korrangar. Styx thinks he better do the same before the dwarfs appear to stomp down the whole cliff. Djarak is eager to join. He does not reveal to Styx why, but it seems likely that he wants to pursue Lyssril instead of being caught in the war on the ground. Styx agrees. He doesn’t say why either, but considering that Lyssril is still alive she may still be able to sense him and that means no freedom just yet. Thus working with Djarak or assisting him means faster results.

Strong, sudden rumbling of the ground catches their attention. Assuming it is the dwarfs, they hurry to get the airship out of Korrangar.

They find the exit blocked, however, by a large stone golem. A gift by the dwarfs, that is now destroying the city from the inside. Whatever the deal between Lyssril and the dwarfs was, it does not appear to have been very solid and the dwarfs feared betrayal and thus, took some preventive measures.

Djarak suggests shooting it with the two ballistas installed. Styx one, Djarak one. Styx doubts for a moment but lets himself be convinced. He leaves the airship, reaches his side within a couple seconds and shoots at the golem, exposing his energy core in his chest.

Looking over to Djarak, Styx sees him being covered by falling rocks. With a curse and a sigh Styx takes it upon himself to fire the second ballista also.

I makes his way over, collecting some more precious pure Quartz on the way.

When he attempts to fire the ballista he notices that it has been booby-trapped. The golem makes an attack but Styx evades and fires again. Successfully this time. The golem falls and opens up the passage to the outside.

To Styx’s surprise his airship moves on its own! He hurries to jump on board.

Outside of Korrangar, Styx drops down onto the deck and makes his way towards the wheel, to find Djarak alive and well standing by it. Styx readies his small crossbow and points it at the dark elf. “Djarak, this is the last time you are going to bug me.”

THE END

(Not in the game) Helledryn managed to reach Thoben. She follows up on her men, learns that Grab-Jack and Arlock are dead and that the Guild is currently in turmoil over its new leadership. Having earned some respect upon her visit before engaging Styx’s services, she seizes the opportunity to take over. Thus becoming the head of the Thoben Guild for many years to come.

(Not in the game) Styx manages to find Lyssril and Maolak and kills them both, to permanently regain his privacy.

(Not in the game) Djarak returns and leads the remaining people of his into a new era. I think the dwarfs let go of the elves after their defeat at their secret present.

#Styx: Shards of Darkness #Styx #my styx lore #SoD is a huge mess of story stuff #Helledryn is just said to be tough gal but we don't actually ever get to see her do the tough stuff #she even sucks at drinking when we meet her in Styx's hideout #despite the fact some other guys later say how she apparently knew how to drink #poor treatment of you helledryn poor girl #shame that lyssril and maolak get away alive #maybe that was kept open for a sequel?#styx's motivations are also all over the place. in MoS he made sense. in SoD he forgets one past goal over new ones in an instant.#But he certainly still is living just for the day xD

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squaaash · 5 years

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something familiar

a fic inspired by this lovely drawing by @sidetrek because the idea just would not leave me alone

Read on AO3

Summary: Aziraphale is laid out on the couch, seemingly asleep. This is not shocking.

What is shocking, however, is the giant black snake coiled around him from head to toe.

Anathema and Newt drop by the bookshop and make a startling discovery. Aziraphale and Crowley are just trying to have a lazy Saturday morning.

Keep reading:

Aziraphale and Crowley had recently developed a tradition on Saturday mornings.

The past winter had been particularly cold and bitter, and Crowley often had a bit of an issue keeping warm. His cold-blooded origins weren’t helped by his lanky form and bony extremities, so he enjoyed spending his nights snuggled up against his space-heater of an angel.

Aziraphale woke one morning to very peculiar sensation. He felt almost swaddled. The gentle pressure and weight elicited a pleasant feeling in his chest that warmed him to his very core.

He opened his eyes to find a large serpentine head resting on his sternum, still dead to the world, with an incredibly peaceful expression on his face. Crowley has shifted forms (likely without waking, Aziraphale surmises) and successfully coiled himself around Aziraphale’s entire body, the end of his tail brushing against his ankles as it lazily swung back and forth. The warmth in the angel’s chest grows. He can feel the love radiating off of the sleeping serpent, and does his best ensure that he feels the same in return, extending his contented aura outward and brushing his thumb gently over the snake’s head.

But then Crowley wakes and the lazy Saturday morning spell is broken. The serpent’s eyes widen, and suddenly they’re peering out of Crowley’s human face instead. He’s lying flush on Aziraphale’s front, his arms and legs wrapped soundly around him. Aziraphale would find himself endeared by the blush rising on the demon’s cheeks if it weren’t for his absolutely shamefaced expression.

“Sssorry, I didn’t mean to–”

Aziraphale rests his hand on Crowley’s cheek, running his thumb across his cheek before carding his fingers back through his hair. Crowley closes his eyes, sighing pleasantly at the sensation.

“Don’t apologize, my love.”

Crowley rests his cheeks against Aziraphale’s chest, still looking somewhat crestfallen. He focuses on the steady thump-thump of his angel’s human heart. “But I–”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Surely you’d rather not cuddle with a reptile.”

“I think you’re underestimating what a good cuddler you are in your serpentine form.”

Crowley tilts his head to better see Aziraphale, a look of quiet awe on his face. A look that reveals all his fear. That he doesn’t deserve this, that Aziraphale is simply humoring him, is too good for him, that he’ll misstep in his usual demonic way and Aziraphale will leave him and that’s just the way the world is meant to be.

Aziraphale kisses the doubt right off of Crowley’s face.

Slowly but surely, Crowley allowed himself to become comfortable sleeping coiled around Aziraphale in his serpentine form. On Saturdays, Aziraphale would leave the shop closed until the late afternoon so that he and Crowley could bask in the sunlight that streamed in through the front window and onto his well-loved sofa. (He knew that Crowley was particularly fond of the way that the golden light warmed his scales. On the rare occasion that Aziraphale woke first, he loved watching the serpent sleep, tracing his fingers along his spine. He rarely saw him so relaxed.)

This random Saturday morning in March, while rainy and dreary, should have been like all the others. Except for the fact that it wasn’t.

---------

Anathema Device knew that Crowley and Aziraphale were not… people, per se.

Their auras were tinged with something pearlescent and odd-looking that her eyes could never manage to focus on long enough to truly see what it was. Not to mention the odd little magic tricks they would perform now and again, under the impression that Anathema wouldn’t notice that there always happened to be a tray of fresh tea and little sandwiches on the coffee table whenever she and Newt would pop in for a visit. (She did notice.)

Not long after the failed Armageddon, Anathema had come across an unfamiliar contact in her cellphone saved under the name of “A.Z. Fell and Co.” Upon calling the number, Aziraphale feigned ignorance as to how the number came to be in her possession but invited her to stop by the shop anytime if she’d like to take a peek at his extensive library.

And thus, Anathema and Newt had a very odd new friend.

Whenever they were in London they’d stop by the shop, knocking on the door if it happened to be closed. (Anathema learned very quickly that the shop wasn’t for the purpose of selling books so much as storing them, but after a few trial runs to ensure that she was trustworthy, Aziraphale was more than happy to let her borrow to her heart’s content.) While bumbling and awkward at times, the man was sweet as all get-out and knew his books well enough to debate them to the earth’s end. Eventually, Anathema was dragging Newt into the city at least once a week to accompany her and discuss Aziraphale’s vast collection of literature, so it really should have only been a matter a time until they ran into his red-headed companion.

Except Anathema was fairly certain that Crowley was avoiding the bookshop whenever she and Newt were there. In fact, she was absolutely certain. Mainly because she once spotted him out the front window of the shop over Aziraphale’s shoulder as he was ranted passionately about Oscar Wilde’s Garden of Eros. He stopped in his tracks when he spotted the young couple on Aziraphale’s couch and slumped his shoulders dramatically, making an exasperated expression before turning on his heel and briskly walking away. So, yeah. Anathema could say with confidence that Crowley was avoiding them.

It all came to a head on a rainy morning in March.

Anathema and Newt had plans to be back in Tadfield in the early afternoon for Pepper’s birthday party, but Anathema had accumulated a rather large hoard of finished books and felt too guilty to hold onto them for any longer. She figured that Aziraphale didn’t really seem the type for a lie in and that popping in and out around ten in the morning shouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience.

Perhaps she should’ve thought that through.

Anathema can immediately tell that something is off. She’s holding a stack of books up to her chin so Newt knocks heavily on the door, knowing that Aziraphale sometimes can’t hear from his back room, but the door swings open easily. They exchange a look. Aziraphale generally does whatever he can to keep people out of his shop At All Costs, and leaving the door unlocked is… out of character, to say the least.

Anathema worries her lip between her teeth as she nudges her way past Newt, opening the door further with her shoulder, quieting his stuttered protests with a quirked eyebrow in his direction. Surely, if something was wrong, Aziraphale wouldn’t mind them letting themselves in. She looks back towards his desk, as they often find him wrapped up in his notes and annotations, but his chair sits empty. She’s only distantly aware of Newt following her timidly into the store until she hears a strangled gasp.

She whirls around and follows Newt’s wide-eyed gaze before squeaking in shock at the sight.

Aziraphale is laid out on the couch, seemingly asleep. This is not shocking.

What is shocking, however, is the giant black snake coiled around him from head to toe.

It appears to be sleeping as well, resting its large head on Aziraphale’s chest, slung over his shoulders and wrapped around his torso, winding around his right leg with its tail curled at his ankle.

“What the– I mean, well I can tell that it’s– But, I–” Newt whispers, struggling to form proper sentences. “What the fuck is this? Is he a witch? Is this a witch thing?”

“I mean, maybe,” Anathema hisses back. The snake, which doesn’t look like anything she’d imagine is native to the UK, is bigger and heftier than anything she’s seen in a zoo. The longer Anathema looks at it, she realizes that it’s giving off an aura of its own, intertwining with Aziraphale’s until one is indistinguishable from the other.

“Has he been, like, cursed or something?” A look of realization passes over Newt’s face, and he gapes anew. “Oh my god, is he dead?!”

Anathema narrows her eyes, studying the man carefully for the rise and fall of his chest. “I don’t think so.” She steps forward to look more closely, but her movement startles Newt and he throws his arm out, instinctually wanting to put himself between Anathema and the snake.

But all he succeeds in doing is sending her very impressive stack of books to the floor with a large crash.

A couple of things happen at once.

Aziraphale starts awake, clutching at the large serpent, still sluggish from sleep as he slurs, “Wha’s goin’ on?” Simultaneously, the snake’s eyes fly open, a brilliant gold hue, as it rears up protectively over Aziraphale, hissing in surprise and ready to strike against its perceived attackers. As people with just an inkling of self-preservation, Anathema and Newt scurry backward, but Anathema trips over one of the fallen books, taking Newt down with her when she scrambles to steady herself on his arm.

Anathema stills as she sees something peculiar in the snake’s eyes. It’s a startlingly human expression that looks almost like recognition before transforming into something akin to embarrassment. And then the snake is gone.

And red-headed gentleman is in its place, staring back at them with the same golden, serpentine eyes. Crowley.

What the fuck.

Unfortunately, the sudden appearance of a grown man on the couch sends (a still very sleepy) Aziraphale careening off of the couch and onto the floor with a pathetic sounding oof, from where he finally spots Anathema and Newt.

“Oh, lord. Crowley, dear, did you lock the door when you came in last night?”

Crowley sits stock still on the couch, his voice thin as he deadpans, “Obviousssly not, angel.”

Anathema regains her voice first, tentatively venturing, “So, you’re a snake?”

Aziraphale winces. Crowley maintains a carefully blank expression as he says, “Uh-huh.”

Something occurs to Anathema. Between the strange auras and generally peculiar behavior, it wouldn’t be the craziest conclusion to draw. “Are you Aziraphale’s familiar?”

“As in a familiar to a witch? You think that I’m a witch?” Aziraphale asks with an odd look on his face, not dissimilar to a parent trying their hardest to not let a child know that they’re displeased.

Anathema nods hesitantly.

Crowley sputters and then absolutely cackles. Aziraphale shoots him a thoroughly unimpressed look and he laughs even harder, tears streaming down his face. Eventually, he stops wheezing and wipes the tears from his face. “Oh, that was really good. Thank you for that, I’ll never let that go. A witch. Ha!”

“So,” Newt furrows his brow, “If you’re not a witch and a familiar, what are you two?”

Aziraphale exhales, looking rather chagrined.

“You know, I thought you said they knew?” Crowley asks, raising one eyebrow.

“Well, I thought it was fairly obvious.”

“It’s not actually–Hey!” Newt attempts to interject, only to be cut off when Anathema elbows him in the side. It makes her feel slightly guilty, but she has a desperate need to be in control right now, as there’s nothing she hates more than feeling out of her depth.

Aziraphale and Crowley exchange a look, seemingly have an entire conversation in a few moments without saying anything at all, each man wearing a combination of sheepishness and exasperation, until they appear to reach an agreement.

“Get up off the floor, angel,” Crowley tugs Aziraphale up off the floor to sit next to him on the sofa, before looking to Newt and Anathema. “Alright, kiddies, pull up a chair.”

They scramble upwards, not particularly interested in disobeying the unknown supernatural entities, no matter how many times they’ve shared tea.

“Well,” Aziraphale clasps his hands together, suddenly smiling pleasantly. “In the beginning, in the Garden, there was– Well, he was a wily old Serpent and I was technically on apple tree duty. And I–” He cuts himself off as Crowley sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I love you, angel, but you do this every time,” Aziraphale opens his mouth to protest but Crowley turns to their guests. “Anathema. Newton. This is Aziraphale, Principality and Guardian of the Eastern Gate. He is an angel in the literal sense. My name is Crowley. I am a demon, also in the literal sense. Any questions?”

It’s painfully quiet for a moment. Newt chuckles uncomfortably. Anathema shoots him an incredulous look. He stops. She needs to process this.

“So you’re, like, the snake? From the Garden of Eden?”

“Yup.”

“And you’re an angel? Halo? Wings? Harp?”

“Wings, yes. The halo and the harp are a bit of a stereotype, my dear.”

“And you guys are,” She searches for the right word, “Partners?”

Crowley snorts at her dumbstruck expression. “Yup.”

“Well, that’s…” Newt weighs his words, “Bizarre.”

“I suppose so, Mr. Pulsifer,” Aziraphale says, more to Crowley than Newt as he takes the demon’s hand, smiling sweetly at him. Crowley smiles back before averting his gaze to downward, clearly attempting to contain a much bigger grin. “Now was there something you two needed, barging in here on a Saturday morning?”

“Oh!” Anathema hops on from her chair to gather the books from the floor as she abashedly explains. “I was hoping to return these to you because we have to be a Pepper’s birthday party this afternoon, she’s a friend of Adam’s. We’re really sorry for intruding, but your door was unlocked, and that was so unlike you that we were a bit concerned.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale’s expression softens at that. “Well, I understand my dear, an honest mistake. Do pass our regards along to young Miss Pepper.”

“Of course! And would it be alright if we stopped back in tomorrow? I just finished The Cloud Atlas and I’d really love to discuss it with you.” She smiles hopefully, if somewhat sheepish.

“That would be delightful, Anathema.”

As they're making their way out of the shop, Anathema pauses and turns back for a moment. “And I’d love to see you around sometime, Mr. Crowley, and maybe we could all get to know each other better.”

Crowley quickly masks his surprise, settling on a subtly content expression. “Why, yes, Miss Device, I think that would be lovely.”

Perhaps now they would have two very odd new friends.

Once they’re sat in Dick Turpin once again, on their way back to Tadfield, Newt asks Anathema, “So, that all really happened right?”

“Mhm.”

“Giant snake?”

“Mhm.”

“Your book club buddy is an angel.”

“Yup.”

“And his boyfriend is a demon.”

“Seems so.”

“Right. Just checking.”

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clansayeed · 4 years

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Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 22: Cleansing Grimfire

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The Coven Elders deal with the consequences of their actions. Taylor and Elric participate in a father-son activity. The Council takes some responsibility.

[READ IT ON AO3]

The bloodwraith’s neck cranes back at an unnatural angle and it howls to the wind, bloodstained talons reaching out and forward; compelled to attack.

His breath catches in his throat and Taylor squeezes his eyes shut. He braces himself—

For the pain that never comes. The icy grasp of a fate worse than death that he still can only imagine; still must only imagine.

Peeks a tentative eye open to the sight of Cassiopeia’s severed hand stretched out in Vera’s quivering grasp.

A firsthand witness to how the small and humble sparks in Vera’s breast ignite into a blaze that consumes her soul.

“You will not.”

The entire Garden watches in bated awe as the wraith obeys. Hovers back far enough where Taylor can breathe without the scent of rancid flesh in his mouth.

Oh he’s still scared shitless — and rightly so. But just like he can feel the bad things hovering in an aura around them so too can he feel the good.

And the sudden rush of adrenaline, defiance, bravery in Vera is incredible.

The Elders are still together, still united, but their understanding is unmistakable. They know whose hand Vera wields. They realize what has changed with its discovery.

The only thing that hasn’t settled in to their collective hive mind is that it’s over.

“You killed Cassiopeia because she was the necromancer — she was the one in control of whatever creature she summoned and you needed that control to be yours and yours alone. You didn’t realize that you screwed yourselves.”

“‘Cause they were busy screwin’ everyone else,” huffs Nik behind him.

Millet has gone pale, the dark circles under her eyes pronounced against her almost skeletal pallor. “Her body became a totem.” Is that a hint of resignation in her tone? Or maybe just wishful thinking.

“Specifically her hand,” Cadence confirms with a nod, “like the trophies Reimonenq kept in his mortal life. If you had conjured up any random malevolent soul instead of going for sick, twisted irony maybe it would have been different but…”

“But she who holds the Hand holds the power.”

There was a lot about the plan that had been left up in the air. When, or if, the Coven Elders would even arrive. If they would summon the wraith immediately or attack in some other form. If there was even the smallest chance they could be convinced to stop the needless violence; their grab for power stayed in favor of the cooperation that should have happened in the first place.

But the one thing they had all been forced to agree upon was the one thing no one wanted to think about.

They had the totem, now what?

An eye for an eye was the most logical, solved the most problems. But then how were they any better than the Elders?

They may have been forced to agree but that didn’t mean it was without argument.

Cadence had been the last one to exit the underground tomb, his gruesome work finally done. Cassiopeia’s hand had been wrapped in Cal’s flannel and held out between them all as an unholy relic.

It made sense for Nik to take it — for a Nighthunter to be the one to make the final blow whatever that blow may entail.

Instead he held it out to Vera; insisted she take it. “You’re the one who’s suffered the most here. He’s your kin.” And polite Vera, kind Vera; Vera who had been tangled up in this out of fear and a desire to save Kristin and had resigned herself to suffering a curse she could never lift, took the bloodied bundle and made her peace with accepting the burden.

Never said what she planned on doing — it was just assumed she’d send the creature after the Elders; wield the totem the way a hero wields a sword to deal the dragon a final blow.

Maybe it was something Vera didn’t know herself. Couldn’t know until she was in the moment and had to make the choice before hesitation was their undoing.

Well they’re in that moment now. Taylor watches her square her shoulders, her bare hands grasping real flesh for only the second time in her entire life, and knows she’s chosen.

The wind rustles her curls silently as Vera holds out the severed hand in offering to the bloodwraith.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” The words come out of Daniels’ mouth but they don’t sound like her at all — there’s no restraint in her fear now.

Vera doesn’t deign the woman worth an answer. Just watches, waits for the creature to move. But even it doesn’t seem to understand what her intentions are.

Vion sneers — but even that wavers. “Foolish mortal child. If you wish to live you will keep that thing away from its totem.”

“I won’t do it —” —she whips around to Taylor behind her, tears stinging where they well at her eyes— “— I can’t do it, Tay. I can’t kill them.”

She can’t. If she does, she’s no better than they are. She’s the monster her mother is, the monster her ancestor is. Whether it’s true or not it’s how she feels so he feels it too.

“Baby girl if there was ever a time to grow a spine… now’s it.”

Vera stares over his shoulder to her mother’s wavering figure straining down the garden path.

They knew taking her out of the hospital was a necessary evil. She was the wraith’s last true victim. Her presence made some of the uncertainties of the plan less so because they knew it would come to finish what it started. But the fight, rushing her out of the fray; it’s proving to be too much. Ashen-faced and every muscle in her body screaming let me rest but she doesn’t.

Lady Smoke does not run from her enemies.

“Momma…”

Yet even with everything they’ve been through, despite her daughter refusing to leave her hospital bedside, there’s the furrow of command in her hardened face. She looks at Vera in the same way she had back at her club. Not a mother; a mob boss.

“Tonya, don’t —” Katherine tries to stay her advance but she’s shrugged off; hand batted away like a bothersome fly.

“Your whole life you’ve been runnin’ from who you are, Vera Claire. I shouldn’t have indulged it, that’s my sin to bear; lettin’ you make yourself weak. But now there’s lives at stake, includin’ your own. Maybe you still ain’t got the sense to use your gift for me but would you forgive yourself if your weakness killed everyone else?”

Vera can’t believe it. Frankly neither can anyone else. “What — Momma, stop. Why’re you doin’ this now of all times?”

“Because you’ve always been too stubborn to see what needs to be done!”

“No one else needs to die!”

“Then they’ll kill you first!”

“I won’t do it, goddammit —” if Smoke thought scolding her daughter would shame her into acting she has another thing coming, every word pulls Vera back from the murderous edge, “— I won’t be you! I refuse! I refused then and I refuse now!”

Vera’s voice cracks and the dam breaks; tears down her cheeks with the hovering shadow of pure evil behind her and a lifetime of rage and loathing coming out at the wrong moment but it wasn’t she who chose to rip open these old wounds now — so why should she have any mercy, any sympathy for the frail woman who did this to herself.

“We were both here that night. But it went after you — and if you weren’t so obsessed with gettin’ back your damn Touch you’d realize why that is. I won’t do it. I won’t take a life, even like this. I won’t be you — I won’t be a monster.”

And it’s final this time; when she turns away from her mother to face her decision right in the bloodstained face. “Derek Reimonenq was a monster too. I won’t use him and I won’t become him to get what I want. I know there’s another way.”

“You know nothing of the craft,” all of Daniels’ malice shoved into one last push; one last attempt. Her hands twitch at her side but the witch knows better than to act. Acting runs the risk of losing the totem holding the bloodwraith bound — or the wraith itself.

All her power and all the misery she’s orchestrated up to now and she’s reduced to nothing but words. Words that cause Vera to look up at her with pity. The ultimate insult.

Taylor sucks in a breath as she takes a step closer to the creature; can’t help himself even though he trusts her. Trusts she knows what she’s doing and believes in the path she’s taking.

So he has to believe in her, too. Their lives depend on it.

“I know the misery it’s brought. And I know I won’t have a hand in it anymore.” On silent command the bloodwraith opens its ghoulish talons held aloft. And with all of her fear and grief and anger put aside Vera lays the dead witch’s token upon them.

The skin fades sickly pale and bloodless veins spread black and ruinous. A horrific sight not unfamiliar — and Taylor knows in a part of him that’s still tied to the grief of Cassiopeia’s misplaced trust that the unknown magics preserving her body in the tomb lift and allow her to finally rest.

Even accepting the reality that there was a tortured soul powering the bloodwraith like Satan’s battery — he still couldn’t think of it as something with thoughts; something beyond a mindless killing entity. Which probably explains the weird feeling that comes with watching the creature as it looks down at the totem with a curiosity that could almost be called human.

Behind it the Elders close even tighter ranks. He’s not entirely certain they shouldn’t be doing the same.

Then, like all living things the wraith crosses, the hand begins to wither. Flesh pulled taut against skeletal fingers before eating away at itself the way maggots do; reveals the muscles underneath and the tissue between bones until those desiccate too. Until all that’s left are pale off-white bones that fall in little thunk-thunks to the dirt at its… levitating burial wrappings.

Uncertainty hangs over their heads crisp and icy, prickles like needles at Taylor’s skin and tries to choke him from the inside with every breath.

Now what?

The witches strike first. Try to get the jump on the bloodwraith while its back is still turned with three right hands extended and three burning spheres of fire brought together in Daniels’ power and sent hurtling forward.

Like that’ll make a difference.

The blaze collides against the creature’s spine and even manages to set a few tattered edges of it’s billowing wraps alight. But fire is like all things; needs oxygen to breathe and live. And nothing lives that close to the wraith’s existence. Cassiopeia’s hand proved that.

What would have happened if they’d done nothing; if they had fled, or held their breaths and stayed very still? Would they have been spared? Would Reimonenq’s soul take its newfound freedom and flee beyond the Veil?

It doesn’t matter one way or the other. Because they act — they lash out first. So technically there’s nothing against the retaliation coming.

Maybe if they’d kept Cassiopeia alive she could have banished it before the slaughter.

And it is.

The ghastly, gleeful grin Taylor swears he can see twisted back upon its lips will haunt him for some time; whether it’s really there or not.

The bloodwraith makes quick work of the ones who bound it to bone. It may have enjoyed the hunt every other time before but this — this it has been waiting for from the moment it was birthed in blackness and greed. Taking no time to savor their screams.

Not that the Elders go quietly — each new barrage of magic changes the air pressure and makes Taylor’s eyes swim dizzy and confused. They send spell after spell and chant after chant at the bloodwraith’s face, it’s torso, the space between it and the ground. They try to swallow it up with a tear in reality, send blood from their open veins to slake its thirst; things magic might not even be capable of but are made real in those desperate last moments.

As if the universe, the forces Beyond, the things that bind The Fate in rules against intervention give the witches all the power their mortal bodies can hold. In the same way a death row inmate is given a feast for his last meal.

The wraith’s tainted touch is too good for them. Keeps them whole, maybe even alive long enough to continue toying with. It can’t have that.

So it plunges through Millet’s abdomen bodily. Cleaves her in two uneven pieces and the rest of her splattered on the stone wall at her back. The viscera is dark, almost black against the bleach-white bones that emerge like a butterfly that could only come from the mind of H.G. Wells.

Vion’s cloudy eyes are plucked from his skull with veins and nerves snapping like taut strings. His mortal mouth isn’t wide enough to fit the wraith’s claw until it is — but only after flashing the onlookers with the bottom half of the smile he never learned how to give. Like scooping stew out of the pot with knives his organs come out mangled, misshapen.

The smell is awful and Taylor wants to look away but he doesn’t. Forces himself to watch each new torture and indignity those husks are subjected to. Because they are husks now. There’s no way anyone could be alive after that.

Even when he feels Nik’s tension closer than before and a hand inches its way up to the corner of his eye he brushes it aside. “You shouldn’ have to see this,” the Nighthunter whispers. And he’s right. He shouldn’t have to.

But the Coven Elders only have themselves to blame for that. They were the ones who pulled him into the dark and horrible. “I will anyway;” his equally voiceless reply.

And then there’s Elder Daniels. Made to watch the evisceration and mutilation of her kin. The last witches to fall to The Bloody Hand. That’s her fault, too.

It backs her into the Millet-strewn wall but she does not cower. It rakes talons through her throat her gut her four limbs but she does not scream. It hovers in the air over the pile of her it created but she does not look away — eyes brighter in death than they ever were in life.

The hardest part comes after. Waves of nausea and anguish and the taste of blood at the back of his throat that leave him shaking, crying even though he knows there was no other way — that someone had to die. It takes time but the feelings and all their overwhelming wrath do fade.

Belatedly he realizes — the last of the Coven Elders, those tiny wisps of purpose and ill, have left this world.

The fallout of them remains.

The bloodwraith hovers there among its finest work. Takes them in maw dripping blood and tissue stained red and reeking of death and righteous revenge — but still, silent as the grave.

Without tether or ruling hand there is nothing left inside its hollow ribs. Its great work is done.

Elric is the first to speak, voice cracked from exhaustion, and Taylor isn’t the only one who jumps slightly at the broken silence.

“We must destroy the creature before its nature overpowers the echoes of its former self.” Not that he has to tell anyone twice.

“Think it’ll sit still long enough fer us to put it through a woodchipper?” Kristof isn’t joking.

But Elric shakes his head; doesn’t humor even outlandish ideas. “I… do not know.”

Katherine favors her left side as she hobbles close enough for Ryder to prop her up. “We could pursue another necromancer — but the odds of one being close enough to get here in time…”

“An’ I definitely don’ have enough arrows to banish it to the Veil.”

“So we’re fucked?”

“Every passing moment deteriorates its complacency. It will go rabid.”

“If we had the totem —”

“— the Elders would still be alive, so stop lookin’ at me like that mother.”

Through the din of arguments and ideas tossed forward and debunked Taylor sees their guest again. Watches as The Fate holds his gaze then looks out, slow and with purpose. Over the grass and gravel stained black that now shines like glass under the revealing moonlight.

The stars shine much the same but the trails left by Elric and Garrus’ valiant effort in cornering the witches are a different beauty. Something ethereal and as bright as it is dark. Scorched trails of obsidian creating beauty in destruction.

With all the weird and cryptic help they keep giving, he’s gonna need to get The Fate a fruit basket delivered or something.

“Do you have enough strength to do it one more time?”

Elric looks at him with a furrowed confusion — takes a moment to understand before he withers further. “I worry not even Garrus’ aid will be enough to burn the beast. Not alone.”

Taylor’s heart sinks, but Nik catches it before it gets too low.

“So help ‘em out, Rook.”

“Me?”

“You did it before.”

“Yeah but not on purpose.”

“So get Elric to channel it to you again.”

Then his father is at his side with pale palm turned up in offering. “You are not the same person you were then. You may not need my help.”

Everyone’s stopped arguing now; listening intently. Talk about stage fright.

“Yeah I — I don’t think so. The other fae, the ones inside…”

“Not all of us have the touch to do such wonders.”

And isn’t that just great. “Obviously. Why would it ever be easy?”

He throws a look to Garrus, still half-caught in Krom’s arms though looking far less on the verge of unconsciousness. Not that Krom worries over him any less. They catch him looking and their smiles are matched; happy, relieved, sheepish. Makes Taylor have the just-barely resistible urge to shake his head and say “those crazy kids.”

What’s the use arguing at this point?

“Okay. I mean — however I can help.”

Of course the stone troll is reluctant to let Garrus go, takes more than a fair bit of coaxing from Ivy but he does. “I haven’t stretched these muscles in a century,” comes the anticipated complaint, “and now you have me conjuring twice in one evening?” But Garrus doesn’t hesitate as he takes his position back up.

Elric directs Taylor nearest Isadora; doesn’t argue when Nik follows like an extension of him.

“I’ll be okay.” Not that he doesn’t appreciate the support.

“I know —” then, after a beat, “— still. Don’t have to leave you, so I won’t.”

A hush falls with the fae men in their positions. The outcast, the Lord, and the halfling in a triangle around the dormant wraith.

He knows he shouldn’t but that’s never stopped Taylor before. Cautiously reaches out with that feeling inside and tries, more out of curiosity than anything, to search for anything that remains of Reimonenq within its cursed bones.

But he’s just met with a void. Blacker than black — no revenge, no vendetta to carry out; nothing at all.

So he pulls it back… and feels the faint whisper of death like velvet on his cheek.

It’s as ready as they are for all this to be done with.

Not that he was expecting a lesson on a chalkboard or anything — Conjuring Grimfire 101 — but there’s a distinct lack of any kind of instruction that leaves Taylor more than a little lacking. Has him looking back and forth to mirror the men in everything he can see.

One minute the uncertainty is there; building inside of him a threatening mass of the unknown — and then it isn’t.

It’s just gone.

Whatever takes its place—not confidence, not quite—is enough, somehow. He knows it’s enough.

Looking down Taylor isn’t surprised to see wisps of black flame licking at his palms. Both enveloped and not, but not a burn in sight and so so beautiful.

It doesn’t take much. Barely even a gesture but moreso the power to let the grimflames take to the world beyond him.

Taylor, Garrus, Elric — they aren’t three people and three flames anymore. They’re one in the same; send their combined will forward. Rushing, racing on still winds lapping and hissing at one another until they seek home in the only thing they can.

A column of midnight fire erupts towards the sky as the bloodwraith is consumed. The last of its flesh, the tendrils of cloth, the thrice-burned bones engulfed in a fire that bathes the entire garden in light.

Taylor prepares himself — muscle memory — for a stinging wave of heat that never comes. And the sight is as captivating as it is terrible, as magical as it is destructive. Colors without names taking the wraith’s shape within the black — aberrant and awe-some.

Higher and higher the grimfire clamors for the abyss; seeks home in a darkness just as endless. The colors within grow to a blinding brightness as, within, the creature is devoured.

The Council of New Orleans watches as one. Blooded and bruised and alive. Shadows of light in lashes across every face like a ritual of cleansing.

Cadence shoulders the combined weights of Kathy and Cal; holds them up with tears in his eyes.

As Kristof watches, jaw slack, Octavia lumbers up to him with blood-matted fur and noses at his palm, turns a golden gaze up to the place where the fire and the heavens meet. Even Isadora finds herself held captive by the sight.

Vera’s hands cup her elbows, the glowing shadows catching on her curls and every teardrop that collects at her chin. Behind her Tonya stands shrouded in the dark of her daughter’s figure. The only one focused on something else.

But it makes sense. Don’t ask him how but it does. It isn’t just the bloodwraith that is forced to make peace in the fae fire’s glow. It shines on all of them and chases away every shadow left in the chambers of their hearts. Leaves within Taylor a feeling of profound peace; of understanding.

From tip to temple the remnants of the bloodwraith scatter upwards, rainbow embers scattering to every corner of the city — further even.

Upturned palms slowly close with curled-in fingers; Garrus, then Elric. Elric who looks at his son with pride to which nothing can compare. Taylor almost doesn’t want to let it go. Wants to let it build and stay in this beautiful monument to everything… everything.

Instead he closes his hands and snuffs out the light.

The curtains close.

Cade pulls away gasping; covers his mouth with the back of his hand with something akin to shame burned into his red eyes. Katherine gives him time; lets the vampire come back to himself with her bare arm still offered; just in case.

It isn’t lost on Taylor — or anyone, really — that the huntress was content to push half a wine glass of her blood towards Isadora de la Rosa. That the vein was a luxury only Cadence was allowed.

Cadence who holds her arm gingerly as he smears blood from his nicked thumb along the skin and lets it heal.

All around them the Mardi Gras decorations still shimmer with delight. Enticing them to forget their worries and relax; to enjoy themselves in a way they might finally be allowed, now. But the night isn’t done yet. Neither are they, no matter how much they might wish otherwise.

Two ashtrays pass between hands. Inside; a thin layer of blood shared among them like a church sacrament. The unspoken rule — take just enough to heal your wounds, because the likelihood that either vampire was willing to part with more than they could afford was slim.

And he cares about the rest of his friends — he does. He’s glad to see the bruises fading from Kathy’s ribs where her shirt is hitched up; to see Cal testing the motion of his arm where Octavia had helped relocate his shoulder. He’s glad — yet it doesn’t stop him from devoting the majority of his attention to Nik.

“No physical signs of a concussion,” mumbles Cade through his careful examination of the man’s pupils; flashes the mini-light from Taylor’s keys between them just in case, “and as any possible wounds would be internal there isn’t much my blood can do that it wouldn’t have done already.”

But Ryder will only humor them for so long. The frustration is already starting to tick in his brow. “Cool, then will you lay off?”

“Nik —”

“I’m fine Rook, see?” He gestures with arms spread wide and what is that supposed to prove? Can anyone blame him for worrying? Would anyone dare to try?

No, not like this. Not when the events of the night still hang over those gathered like an anvil on a very thin rope. Only when it drops it won’t be for comedic effect.

All they need is someone to cut the cord.

Good thing Nik Ryder has never been one to sugarcoat anything. Or hold his tongue for that matter.

“They weren’t wrong, you know, the Coven Elders.”

Which is so the wrong thing to say and gets a couple hundred pounds of angry sweaty werewolf in his face, growling; “The fuck’d you just say, Ryder?”

Even Isadora’s disapproval isn’t so easily contained. “Poor taste, Nighthunter.”

But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t waver. Looks Kristof square in the eyes with a matching frown and a set jaw.

“You could ignore it before, but you sure can’t now. Things around here have gotten way outta hand. Each one’a you only cared about what was right under your noses. I ain’t sayin’ they went about it the right way but to walk outta here with nothing changed would be almost just as bad.”

That he doesn’t end up with a broken jaw is surprising on its own. When Kristof actually steps back as if to listen? Well Hell went straight from frozen over to a winter wonderland.

“Continue,” prompts Elric then, since no one else is willing to offer the floor to him. Why would they? Who wants to be told everything they’ve done wrong? Especially when it leads to… well.

“I didn’ think about the state of things until I saw what was goin’ on inside Persephone. Told myself it wasn’t any of my business —”

“— which it is not,” Tonya interrupts, and meets the glare Vera snaps at her with a hard set to her jaw. “Nighthunters have always been a complicated party. No allegiances, no code of conduct but their own. And now this one wishes to dictate to us all of the things we are at fault for as though he stands on some sort of higher ground?”

Vera just shakes her head, dislike rotting into distaste on her tongue.

“Unbelievable. You still don’t think you have any blame to take in any of this.”

“Do you have any idea what I’ve done to keep this city safe?”

“Oh I’m well aware, mother,” the words lash out on the tip of her tongue; make Tonya recoil however slight. “In fact — that, that right there — that’s half the problem here! That’s exactly what Ryder’s talking about. You stand there actin’ like a martyr when all you’ve done—all you’ve really done—is bully, bribe, and threaten your way into power. How long do you think it’ll keep now?”

She’s no longer the woman who went running at the smallest sign of danger. It’s a thing to behold, really.

And Vera isn’t the only one. Even with all of his huffing and puffing Cal steps up and looks Kristof square in the eyes. There’s a set to his jaw and his eye is still a little purple but hell if he’s backing down now.

“Now don’t you go makin’ trouble for yerself, pup,” his kin warns, but what else could he possibly lose that he hasn’t already?

“Anyone who disagrees with you makes trouble.”

“Yeah, and?”

The younger wolf’s joints pop and crack as he cranes his neck from side to side. Both of them rearing to go even after everything.

“That’s no way to lead a pack.”

Kristof snorts through a cherry-red face. “An’ I take it you’ve got a lotta thoughts you been holdin’ in.”

“You could say that.”

“Until you’re an Alpha I don’t think you’ve got much of a say.”

“He may not, but I’ve a few thoughts, cher.”

There’s a very Et tu, Brute? vibe in how Octavia places herself in the familiar space between the argument. Back then and here in the now Octavia remains a voice of reason to compensate for the one her Alpha just doesn’t seem to have been born with.

His nostrils flare. “Tavvy…”

“I ain’t sayin’ the pup’s right, but you an’ I both know he’s got a point. Things have been good for us, Kristof. Good for the pack.”

“Yeah, why the hell d’you think that is?!”

“I’m not sayin’ you ain’t sacrificed to keep us goin’. An’ I’ve backed you up on every single thing to date. But Kristof Jensen so help me if you raise your voice at me again I will whoop your furry behind to kingdom come and that’s a promise.”

The Alpha and his Beta square off, eye to eye. She commands the space around her despite behind several heads shorter than him. Being part of a pack means something deeper than most can understand and it radiates out from them in viscous tension.

He’s an Alpha; he can’t back down. But she’s his partner — so she won’t.

And Cal, who can’t tell if he has the other wolf on his side or just not on Kristof’s, refuses to let himself be pushed out of the conversation.

“Uncle,” one word that snaps all attention back to him, “you picked up the pack when we needed it most. You know they’re grateful — you know I’m grateful —” and there’s something hidden unspoken in Cal’s words, something from before all this but can’t be held back any longer, “— you were the Alpha they needed when I couldn’t be.

“But the pack can’t be more important than the community it’s part of. You can’t pull away from the rest of New Orleans and call it keeping everyone safe. Not when it leads to shit like this.”

There’s so many emotions and reactions twisting on the Alpha’s scarred face; Taylor doesn’t even attempt to reach out to feel them for fear of empathy whiplash.

So he’s just as surprised as everyone — Cal and Octavia included — when the wolf deflates; sags his shoulders and reaches out for the Beta to find a home crooked under the weight of his arm.

“Now ain’t the time to get into the nitty-gritty.”

Before Cal can object, Octavia squares him away with a single glance. Maybe not now, but soon. And that’s more than before, so he’ll take it.

To everyone’s surprise Isadora steps forward with a steely eye.

“My father was no saint. Since inheriting his seat and estate I have come upon a number of… gruesome things; things he was content to keep from me, and no doubt from the rest of the Council.”

If anyone notices the way her eyes flick to Cadence, they don’t mention it. “But I think that is the point Ryder makes; we, this Council, are supposed to be the ones making decisions for the betterment of this proud city. Instead we have burrowed our heads in the sand, contented ourselves with turning a blind eye to one another’s wrongdoings lest our own come to light.

“We cannot continue like this. The Council will not survive it. New Orleans will not survive it.”

Murmurs of agreement echo throughout the foyer; Elric stands.

“We are tired; we are battle-worn. Yet we have ignored our obligations to the city for long enough I think. If we are to be the ones to bring about a positive change then the time to act is now.”

“Now?” asks Tonya in protest, “don’t you think we should postpone this — at least until Mardi Gras has settled?”

Nik drags two stools forward. Taylor takes the hint and he isn’t the only one — Krom and Ivy join him in grabbing chairs and other seats until everyone has a place to get comfortable.

“No time like the present.”

#choices nb #playchoices fanfiction #nightbound #nik ryder x mc #nik ryder #cal lowell #vera reimonenq #katherine nightbound #oc: cadence smith #nightbound mc #mc: taylor hunter #oblv: bound by circumstance #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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chlostertalks · 4 years

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Westworld Timeline (My Best Guess) – Post-Season 3 Finale

Updated May 4th, 2020 (after S3E8)

“If this is still now, and if we are indeed still here.” -Solomon, S3E7

The show creators want us to experience the world the way the hosts learn about their world and the world, which is why the timeline is so confusing. I've hammered it down as best I can, even with Season 2 causing brain damage a second time.

The year 2052 threw me off so much after S3E7, because Charlotte said that she infiltrated Delos "for the last few weeks" rather than what I thought was the last few years. I thought Dolores and Caleb were the only ones in 2058, but it turns out that all the characters were in the same year, so Seasons 1 and 2 occurred the year before rather than six years before. I had to reconstruct my timeline into what it is now below.

Rather than fitting Season 3 into the collective understanding of the timeline of Seasons 1 and 2, I had to structure Seasons 1 and 2 around the timeline of Season 3.

TL;DR:

The season 2 post-credit is finally explained

Caleb was born the same year as the Westworld massacre (and ironically on Groundhog Day)

The 2052 security footage of Maeve may be an off-camera event that parallels her exploring the Mesa in Season 1 (because nothing else makes sense with this arbitrary date)

A Refresher:

Season 1 sets up Westworld and the Reveries update (part of Ford's grand plan to do what Arnold tried doing a long time ago). The hosts are free…under Ford's control. They're merely slaves to a loop and the guests that hurt them.

Season 2 sets up the Arnold Project and the Delos Project, and that below the Valley Beyond is a room full of servers containing the Forge (all the park data) and the Sublime (a safe haven simulation for hosts). The season itself also shows other Delos Destination parks. Explores the idea that the next phase in human evolution is humanoid robots (hosts). Humans enslave hosts, only to want to be like hosts and achieve immortality.

Season 3 branches outside all the Delos Destination parks, showing that the very guests that visited the park were also part of a global loop controlled by Rehoboam. Explores the idea that hosts are controlled by humans, who are controlled by AI.

In the Previous Years….

Arnold's son, Charlie, dies.

Arnold wrote half of Westworld's code in 2017. (S1E7)

In S1E3, Ford explains that he, Arnold, and a team of engineers begin living on the park grounds to build the hosts. It was a three-year creation process before the park ever opened, so creation began in 2020.

All the interrogation sessions are of Arnold and Dolores; they begin here. All the times when hosts freeze all motor functions are with Arnold.

"You should get back, Dolores, before someone misses you."

Arnold gives Dolores a maze to follow so she can find herself. She will follow the maze three times in her lifetime in the park: once here, once with William, and once before the attack at the end of season 1.

2023 (34 Years before 2057/Season 1):

After achieving consciousness via the maze for the first time, Dolores kills all the hosts, Arnold, and herself to stop the opening of Westworld (S1E10). The park will open anyway, but Arnold almost achieved shutting down the place.

Meanwhile, Caleb is born February 2nd (Groundhog Day). We know this from S3E7, just above his left middle finger:

In the Years in Between:

Akecheta, chief of the Ghost Nation, was on a different loop. He was peaceful, and had a wife. He discovers the massacre and the maze but before he knew the voice inside his head, his narrative was changed, and the Ghost Nation was born.

The Arnold Project (before the Delos Project)

Any time there are black bars above and below the footage, the audience is watching a simulation.

Because it's impossible to have complete fidelity remain outside the Forge simulation and in the real world (as William will soon find out throughout the Delos Project), she allows him to have behaviors unlike Arnold to be separate from Arnold and function.

Thus, Dolores and Ford create Bernard Lowe for the real world. This is how he is part host and part human.

Dolores is wiped and reset after creating Bernard.

Logan Delos sees the prototypes for Westworld; park needs funding

Husbandry robotics

Riot robots (used in the Season 3 finale)

George (site survey and construction)

Delos Destinations (Westworld and five other parks)

2025:

A thermonuclear incident occurs in Paris October 9th. (we know this from the Westworld Season 3 date announcement)

Engerraund Serac and his brother Jean Michel (Jean-Mi) watch as their loved ones and city are gone in an instant. This moment inspires the brothers’ creation of Solomon and, later, Rehoboam.

2027 (30 Years before 2057/Season 1):

Dolores meets William during her first quest to find the center of the maze a second time; William’s experience leads to his funding Westworld and saving them from closure; leaves photograph behind, showing that William’s tale from Episodes 2-9 set up the pilot and the season finale

William had been engaged to Juliet for a year upon his arrival at the park

Dolores achieves consciousness again, paralleling her third achievement in 2057 in S1E10

Dolores' memory is wiped after achieving consciousness a second time.

After William leaves the park….

Akecheta finds Logan in the middle of a desert after his horse dies. William had spanked the horse with Logan tied to it, and the horse ran as far as it could. Logan is insane and doesn’t know his way out. He told Logan that his kind would come for him, but he learned from Logan that there is another world. Possibly why the Forge simulation itself takes on Logan’s image.

William would come back to the park one month out of the year to unleash his true self (S3E8).

William convinced Mr. Delos (Logan’s dad) to back Westworld after William bought Logan’s share; shows the possibilities of market research, explaining the ton of data they collected over the years.

The market research turns into achieving immortality, preserving their conscious minds in control units and placing the control units in drones. It’s pivoted as the next step in human evolution. This becomes the Delos Project.

William’s daughter Emily meets Dolores at Mr. James Delos’ retirement party. Logan is permanently insane.

Mrs. Delos died of a stroke, and Logan goes insane and ODs.

Through the Delos Project, William tries, over the next 30 years, to preserve Mr. Delos and bring him back to the real world after he dies of cancer. Mr. Delos’ mind is preserved as a perfect virtual copy in the Forge, but the problem is bringing that copy into being in the Mesa and in the real world. If William can do that, the possibilities are endless. However, it fails multiple times.

William will grow to loathe the Delos project by 2057, and believe that "no system can tell me who I am. That I have a…choice" (S2E10). It feeds into what the entire series explores: whether or not there is free choice.

Mr. Delos’ last conversation with Logan becomes Mr. Delos’ cornerstone of his copy in the Forge.

2031:

Caleb’s mom abandons him March 20th. She is found months later, and is institutionalized as a result of her schizophrenia September 25th. This scene itself is shown S3E3. The dates are shown S3E7 (see 2023 photos).

In the Years in Between....

Akecheta looks for Logan at Westworld, but he is already gone. He instead finds the Valley Beyond, a door to another world—the Sublime, a safe haven or Garden of Eden, if you will. The Valley Beyond will also be known as Glory. He tries to take his wife from his former life, Kohana, to the Valley Beyond, and she remembers him, but the Westworld staff takes her away for decommissioning. He was afraid that, if he would die, he would lose her memory. He also noticed that more of his family was decommissioned and replaced.

William visits Dolores frequently at the park, and tells her of the plan of the Valley Beyond. William will build both the Valley Beyond and the Forge to record guest data and use it to achieve immortality.

Akecheta looks for his love and, for the first time ever, allows himself to die. He hasn’t been updated in 10 years because he had never died. He finds B83 and his love, but sees that she will no longer live. Thus, he dedicates his life to recreating the maze throughout the park so that the other hosts can find themselves and be free.

2037:

The Second Russian Civil War starts in Moscow, according to the Westworld Season 3 date announcement. Caleb and Francis will soon fight in this war.

In the years in between….

Serac and Jean-Mi create Solomon for Incite. Mr. Dempsey, the founder of Incite and Liam’s father, wants to predict the stock market for personal monetary gain, but the Serac brothers see something more in Solomon.

2039:

Solomon Build System initiated (we know this from the Westworld Season 3 date announcement)

This is a previous Rehoboam build by the Serac brothers. This is what Dolores and Caleb will find 19 years later in Sonora, Mexico.

In S3E7, Dolores explains that Solomon developed so many anomalies and inherited Jean-Mi’s “schizophrenic…way of thinking.”

2042:

Caleb graduates high school June 5th. He enlists in the army December 22nd, and will later fight in Crimea alongside Francis during the Russian Civil War.

Caleb begins training in Park 5 of the Delos Destinations. According to Dolores in S3E8, the government wanted "live" targets, and her creators were happy to supply. Like all Delos Destinations, the hats recorded every decision, including Caleb to not only choose not to harm the hosts, but also to encourage his comrades to do the same. He saved hosts, including a reassigned Dolores and Hanaryo, from being raped. His capacity to choose is why Dolores will choose Caleb for her mission outside the park 16 years later.

We know the dates from S3E3 (see 2049 photo) and S3E7 (see 2023 photos)

2043:

Jean-Mi asks Solomon to make a strategy; it’s his final request before his reeducation, according to Dolores in S3E7.

Jean-Mi goes mentally insane, so Engerraund checks Jean-Mi in a reeducation facility where he can monitor and manipulate him. The institutions, one being called Inner Journeys, are for outliers. The centers were meant to turn their minds inside-out so that they could fit Solomon’s (and later Rehoboam’s) society and be less of a threat. However, only 1 in 10 people reentered the world after reeducation; the outliers were so unpredictable, it was better to remove them from the world than have Rehoboam try to control them (a decommissioning, if you will).

In the years in between….

Engerraund also kills Mr. Dempsey and stages it as a plane crash.

2048:

Caleb has a skull fracture May 9th (see 2049 photo) (1:28).

Caleb and Francis are in Crimea to hunt down an insurgent group called the Diehards, even though the Diehards were also hunting them. One of Caleb’s men dies in an explosion, and shrapnel hits him in the head, causing the fracture.

On May 11th, Caleb and Francis are honorably discharged, but Caleb won’t remember this as a result of his reeducation.

We know the dates not only from S3E3 (see 2049 photo), but also from when Caleb asks Solomon about Francis in S3E7 (see 2023 photos)

In the months in between….

Caleb and Francis robbed banks and murdered people through the RICO app. The app was designed for people to make money off murders and robberies, but in reality, it was used for U-class citizens to get rid of other outliers. Caleb and Francis were the best at it.

2049:

On April 4th, Caleb and Francis were tasked to murder the creator of the pharmaceutical company that produced memory-altering drugs (including the limbic wafers that correspond to reeducated people with drips installed in their mouths, like Francis)(not sure if it includes the Genre drug); the creator tells Caleb the truth, and since Caleb now knew the truth, he would be reeducated. Caleb turns and kills Francis and the creator after a bounty is immediately placed on both his head and Francis’ head.

Caleb nearly commits suicide when he ends up in Sonora May 4th.

We know the date from S3E3 when Dolores shows Rehoboam’s prediction of his suicide (below) (10:08). We know the date of his treatment center visit from S3E7 (see 2023 photos)

In the facility, Caleb becomes U454.1, and is reeducated on how he got to the facility in the first place. He’s trained to believe that Francis died in combat.

The reeducated backstory: After the incident in Crimea, Caleb and Francis captured the leader of the insurgent Diehards. The “leader” is the man that told him the truth about the world. The insurgents ambush Francis and Caleb, killing Francis and triggering his PTSD.

Caleb was not only one of the first people to be reeducated, he was one of the 10% of successful patients. Once reeducated after three months, Caleb is sent out into the world to be a construction worker who occasionally goes on RICO. This is how Dolores will find him in 2057.

2052:

Maeve tries escaping the first known time (we know this date from the Westworld website—since removed, but photo is below)

But now that Westworld has made it obvious that Season 3 is in 2058, and it's only months removed from Season 2, which is immediately after the attack in Season 1, it's hard to pinpoint this date that was once on the Westworld website.

It may be from a past life that we did not see on camera, as Felix explained to Maeve S1E6 that "hosts get reassigned all the time"

Being that she's one of the park originals, Maeve has been around for a long time, and therefore, her time with her daughter may not be her first narrative

Like Dolores, she may have achieved consciousness once before–we the audience may not know this yet, and that may have been what was depicted on the website.

2055:

Caleb has a 5-month romantic relationship end by system interference October 2nd. This suggests that Rehoboam controls people’s lives.

We know the date from S3E3 when Dolores shows Rehoboam’s prediction of his suicide. This date is just below her right hand (see 2049 photo).

2056:

Juliet commits suicide after seeing William’s card from the Valley Beyond. It details the things he did in Westworld, videos and all. She leaves the card behind for Emily to see; it’s inside her 16th birthday present.

William does something truly evil (below) and feels nothing.

In exchange for her saving his life, Akecheta tries protecting Maeve’s daughter. However, William has other plans, shooting Maeve and her daughter, leaving Maeve to die on the maze Akecheta drew, and forcing the Westworld staff to assign Maeve to a new story: madam at the Mariposa.

Akecheta finds Ford as he constructs a new story. Ford knew that he was going to die by Dolores’ hand, and told Akecheta that when that day comes, he needed to gather his people and go to the Valley Beyond.

2057/Season 1:

Ford's months-long grand plan is put in motion. This plan will include:

The Reveries update (allows the hosts to access Arnold's code and possibly achieve freedom)

Reconstruction of Escalante while using half the park's resources

Writing a new narrative

Pulling hosts out of narratives

Letting Dolores and Maeve make their own choices

Letting Clementine fight back and demonstrate what Delos considers a fault in the Reveries update

Drinking to the lady with the white shoes with Old Bill

Retiring and allowing Dolores to kill him

Peter Abernathy is decommissioned after he sees a photograph of the real world; turns out to be William’s wife, Juliet

Maeve tries escaping a second time

William and Dolores begin a quest to find the center of the maze

Since Westworld is just another world to conquer, and he sees himself as a "Titan of industry," he must finish this quest to conquer Westworld to find his purpose.

She is retracing her steps with no concept of time

Some of her retracing is mixed in her flashbacks with William and Logan, including the graveyard, orgy house, and train scenes.

Maeve begins piecing together what Sweetwater really is. She finds old doodles and signs of the Livestock engineers. She begins dying repeatedly in order to find the Livestock engineers. She'll awaken multiple times, and force engineers Felix and Sylvester to provide answers on what this park really is. She also gets new powers and personality modifications out of it.

Elsie finds that Maurice (the host that smashes his head in) was implanted with a satellite uplink. He was drawing a target that looked similar to Orion's belt to smuggle data out of the park, and has been doing it for weeks. As Elsie investigates, Bernard abducts her and abandons her for three weeks.

Ford begins displacing more hosts, ruining the years of hard work that Lee Sizemore put into narratives. He also talks to Dolores, and she lies, telling him that she hasn't made contact with Arnold in over 34 years--the day of the massacre.

"He doesn't know. I didn't tell him anything." (S1E5)

Ford finds William and Teddy at a bar. William explains to Ford that he's looking for purpose and meaning, something he believes he will find by playing Ford's game

Ford: "Well if you're looking for the moral of the story, you could quite simply ask."

William: "I need a shovel. The man I'd be asking died [roughly] 35 years ago. Almost took this place with him. Almost, but not quite, thanks to me."

Bernard wants to learn about the 5 unregistered hosts of Sector 17--the replicas of Ford and his family. The area is designated off-limits for future narratives. It is also later in S1E6 that Bernard learns he is part-human (Arnold) and part-host.

Charlotte and Theresa continue devising a plan to overthrow Ford and to keep smuggling data out the park. Charlotte knows that the only thing the board cares about is the IP they need for the Delos project. She also has a hidden agenda as Serac's mole.

Using Clementine in the demonstration to show what Delos finds a fault in the Reveries update

Firing Bernard

Wanting to lobotomize hosts within the next six months in order to reverse what they see as damage

Late 2057/The Attack (season 1 finale):

William finds the center of the maze, but it was never for him

Bernard makes a copy of Ford. This copy will taunt him for part of Season 2.

Dolores achieves consciousness a third time via the maze and kills Ford and some board members. Unlike the last massacre in 2023, this one is by choice

Maeve achieves consciousness again and creates an escape army

Charlotte plants the key to the Forge and Sublime in Peter Abernathy’s head to smuggle out the park for Serac; breaks him mentally

Charlotte leaves a message for her son Nathan via a host (revealed in season 3)

Late 2057/One Week after the Attack (meat and potatoes of season 2):

Dolores' rancher's daughter and Wyatt personalities have merged, as the Bicameral Mind song alluded to in the opening scene of the pilot. She goes on a killing spree of the guests, but also mentions repeatedly that "not everyone gets to go to the Valley Beyond" to justify killing hosts.

Bernard escapes the park with Charlotte.

Bernard tries getting Peter Abernathy for Charlotte, but plans are foiled by Dolores. Bernard hides with Dolores' army.

Dolores finds her father, Peter Abernathy. She asks Bernard for help, but he can’t do a whole lot.

During a battle between the Confederados and the Delos security team, Clementine drags Bernard to a cave where Elsie is. It’s where Ford commanded him to leave her after the events in season 1. He begins leaking cortical fluid, so Elsie rushes him back to the Mesa.

Maeve, Sizemore, Sylvester, Felix, Hector, and Armistice journey through Shogun World to shortcut into Westworld and find Maeve’s daughter. They learn that Sizemore copied narratives throughout other parks.

The Delos Destinations:

Westworld (Seasons 1-3)

Shogun World (Season 2)

The Raj (Season 2)

War World (Season 3)

Park 5 (Season 3)

Medieval World (Game of Thrones cameo in Season 2)

William visits James Delos copy #149 and tells him how he and his family died. The copy goes insane, and Bernard and Elsie later find James and destroy him.

Bernard and Elsie fear that the Cradle, where the backups of the host data live, is in jeopardy, so they head to that section in the Mesa to save it. Ford's copy from S1E10 takes Bernard’s free will away from him because he doesn’t have it in him to survive. Ford will command him again to leave her.

Elsie keeps bugging Bernard on what he found in the Cradle, but he doesn’t tell her. Instead, he has her find a car for the Valley Beyond, and splits from her to handle some other things for Ford. He later severs his ties from Ford to begin thinking on his own, and rejoins Elsie.

Angela destroys the Cradle anyway, and Bernard destroys the security system to allow Dolores to have full control and take the key inside Peter Abernathy.

Seeing that, by Charlotte placing the key in his head, he is broken and “dying,” Dolores kills Peter, and gets the pearl from his control unit. She now has the key to the Forge and the Sublime in her possession.

William has to play a game that involves his past. His past conveniently finds him in the form of his daughter Emily, who escaped from the Raj park and somehow ends up in Westworld. Hallucinating and asking for Ford, William kills Emily, thinking she is a host. However, he realizes she was human when she has his data card in her hand.

William questions whether or not he has a choice to do good or evil things or if it's part of his code, which is explored in Season 3

Dolores reprograms Teddy so that he'll no longer feel conflicted on following along with Dolores' revolution. The reprogramming drives him to suicide.

Bernard leaves Elsie behind in the park. He heads to the Valley Beyond and runs into Dolores. They find the room of servers that hold the Forge in the Mesa, located just below the Valley Beyond.

Within the Valley Beyond:

The Forge: holds guest data and James Delos' memories, among other things (the Forge itself takes on the image of Logan)

The Sublime: a safe haven for hosts

Dolores learns about the park data while in the Forge itself with Bernard. She begins studying humans, and possibly which ones to target in the real world.

The Valley Beyond holds a promise of a virtual Eden called the Sublime, where hosts are free and no longer slaves to these parks. Dolores believes that it’s just another cage, and she wants the real world, so she begins destroying the servers that support the Forge and the Sublime.

To Dolores, the Sublime is basically a place where the hosts are only in simulation on someone's server, and can easily be deleted

Bernard shoots Dolores, saving the Sublime and the Forge, but the servers' room begins flooding. That flood will carry above ground, closing the door to the Sublime and creating a flood above ground in The Valley Beyond (Sector 16, Zone 4).

Bernard imagines Ford’s voice guiding him on next steps, but he’s really listening to his own voice for the first time. He creates a host Charlotte, but with Dolores’ control unit. Host Charlotte kills real Charlotte.

Host Charlotte saves the Sublime itself (about 2 exabytes of data), redirecting it via satellite to an undisclosed location on earth.

"We are capable of change. And I've changed my mind." -Dolores as host Charlotte

Dolores saves the Sublime while as host Charlotte, even though she tried destroying it moments earlier.

Host Charlotte kills Elsie because she’s too caught up in her own self-interest of wanting to be promoted and helping out on the Delos project. (Could also be a metaphor in killing off audience questions because she constantly wanted clarity on what the hell is going on in Westworld)

Elsie had similar interests as Theresa, who had similar interests as Charlotte. Would make no sense for real Charlotte to kill her, which is why Dolores disguised as host Charlotte did.

Bernard scrambles his own memory and leaves himself on the beach as the server room floods.

Late 2057/Two Weeks after the Attack (season 2 premiere and finale)

Bernard washes up on the beach to start season 2. Strand and the Delos security team are in the middle of an investigation, and Strand, Stubbs, and host Charlotte bring Bernard along to see if he can piece together what happened two weeks ago.

Host Charlotte reveals to the team that Bernard is a host (because she’s Dolores in disguise and already knows about Bernard). They enter the house of Ford’s original hosts (designed in his own and his family’s image) and discover all the copies of Bernard hanging on meat hooks in the RDF basement.

Bernard is basically put in custody, and host Charlotte forces him to give directions to the security team on where Peter Abernathy’s control unit lives

Bernard and the security team head to the Valley Beyond. The security team drain the Valley Beyond and the room where the Forge servers live. Host Charlotte kills Strand. She later sends an encryption key to Delos, and Delos finally sends help off the island after two weeks. Bernard reveals what he did after the attack. Charlotte reveals herself as Dolores and kills everyone.

In the Months in Between….

No one’s picked up on host Charlotte’s host status other than Stubbs, who is a host himself. He gives host Charlotte clearance, and she’s free to leave the park. She leaves with 5 pearls.

In the season 2 finale, Bernard and Dolores are back in their host bodies, and are in Arnold’s old house. Dolores saves Bernard’s pearl and implants it a body she made for him. Host Charlotte is functioning, but with a different pearl. Dolores saves Bernard as a check and balance of her power rather than as an ally or a friend.

Bernard shaves his head and tries getting by without people recognizing him. He's been wanted for three months.

Late 2057/Season 3: (personal theory of when this happened on the timeline)

Dolores makes it into the real world, back into her own body, and cuts her hair into an asymmetrical bob. She begins going after guests that once frequented the park. We see this in the opening scene of the season premiere.

Bernard returns to Westworld, located on the South China Sea, after months of hiding (and in spite of a warrant being out for his arrest), and programs Stubbs to protect him. He is looking for Maeve, but finds that she is not only decommissioned, but her control unit is missing. He has a remote and answers questions via a tablet as if he’s talking to Ford.

Maeve is in a simulation within a simulation--she's a host in War World, but the Delos Destination and Mesa she's taken to when killed in War World are within a simulation themselves. Still aware of who she is, she tries busting out the park again. Maeve, with the help of the copy Lee Sizemore (the real Sizemore died in season 2, as expected), tries to break out of both simulations and the physical Mesa itself. Through a help bot in the Mesa, she finds her control unit and makes a break for it, but the help bot is gunned down.

In San Francisco, Serac is introduced as a former park guest and, while at Incite, created the AI technology Rehoboam. He narrates the season 3 date announcement video. He slowly bought out the board (38% ownership over two decades). He’s trying to take over Delos via a mole inside the company (real Charlotte—RIP), and use the intel gathered on Westworld guests to feed into Rehoboam and control the globe outside the park with a better perfected algorithm. This is why Charlotte and Theresa had common interests when they were alive. It also explains the plot of the season: Rehoboam gathers every bit of intel on people to build a new world where, in Dolores’ words, “It’s not about who you are....It’s who they’ll let you become.”

Maybe Serac was a primary shareholder and the very reason why Delos wouldn’t send help until Peter Abernathy and all the park data was smuggled out of Westworld

What Incite makes/runs:

The cars we see throughout the season

Psycho Pharmacology (bought out the pharmaceutical company run by the creator that Caleb kills in 2049)

Virtual Assistant (the earpiece Dolores wears)

Rehoboam

RICO

Delos’ assets (which will soon be destroyed—Serac only wants the data)

Also in San Francisco, host Charlotte struggles being inside a different body. She’s learning about Charlotte and her personality as she goes, but is in constant confusion. Could be like the James Delos copies where they lose their minds in trying to achieve fidelity to the original person. Nathan, real Charlotte’s son, quickly learns that Host Charlotte isn’t his real mom.

Delos begins testing one of 300 riot robots that will be used in S3E8

Host Charlotte learns that someone smuggled Maeve out the park (S3E3). When Charlotte later meets Serac, she learns that original Charlotte (RIP) was one of his moles, but not the only one.

Charlotte used Maurice (the guy that smashes his head in) to smuggle data out of the park for him (S1E5)(see In the Years in between 2052 and 2055).

William admits in S3E7 that he sold some of Delos’ data to Serac in order to raise capital for the park, but it's not possible for him to be a mole, as he feels that Serac stole his company from him

Host Charlotte reveals to William that she’s a Dolores copy. William freaks out and is immediately deemed incompetent. She pricks him for blood, and he’s taken to a mental institution, Inner Journeys Recovery Center (the place where Serac took his brother) while all his shares transfer to the acting president of Delos: Charlotte.

We know William is there based on a quick shot in S3E4. It's later confirmed in S3E7.

(Bernard and Stubbs will later learn the location of this site from Martin in S3E6)

In a hallucination, William is taunted by Dolores in her traditional Westworld clothing while in the Inner Journeys mental institution

Someone stole Maeve for Serac. He wants Maeve to kill Dolores, for he believes the encryption key in her pearl unlocks all the data on Delos’ park guests through the years. Maeve doesn’t want to, and motions to kill him, but he stops her with a remote very similar to Bernard’s (most remotes wipe out surveillance tapes, but this one controls a host). Later in Singapore, Serac tells Maeve that humanity’s biggest threat is itself, and that Rehoboam was designed to predict and prevent disaster. The most complete portrait of the map of the human mind lies in the encryption key inside Dolores. In return for Dolores, Serac will give Maeve the key to the Sublime after getting it from Dolores.

Serac and Maeve go to Arnold’s old house, now confirmed to be in Singapore, and find that Dolores has made 5 hosts—3 women and 2 men.

In Jakarta, Maeve tries tracking down Dolores. She finds that Dolores got a body from the yakuza (gang) and a man named Sato is in charge. She finds him in Itaidoshin Distillery (“to be of the same mind, even though we may have many bodies”). The kegs are full of the paste used to make hosts, meaning Dolores is making an army. Sato is not only one of the samurai from Shogun World, he turns out to be one of Dolores’ five hosts, and we further learn that Dolores has copied herself into four hosts. The only host she didn’t copy herself into is Bernard as a check and balance.

Dolores as host Charlotte smuggled five pearls out the park: four copies of herself and Bernard.

The Four Hosts of Dolores: Charlotte, Sato, Martin, and Lawrence

Sato stabs Maeve, and removes a tracking device from her control unit.

2058/Season 3

Dolores has been hunting down former guests for months. She begins dating Liam Dempsey, the figurehead of Incite, Inc., for answers. Incite created an AI system called Rehoboam, and it has detected a mole that could be after some IP (real Charlotte with Delos’ IP?). Liam wishes he could turn Rehoboam off, but lost access after his father, the co-founder of Incite, died. Only the original architect (Serac) knows how to turn it off. If he tells her the architect’s name, Rehoboam will know and he will die.

Real Martin Connells knocks Dolores out, and tells Liam that she is a spy; he tries killing her quietly, but she kills all his henchmen, and has host Martin kill real Martin. Caleb, an LA resident down on his luck and missing his deceased friend Francis, finds her after she is shot over the melee.

Dolores clues Caleb in on Rehoboam. It’s an AI system that is the framework of a company named Incite. Incite is doing what Delos tried to do, but in a different way; they collected data years before privacy laws to create a replica world with all these replica people. Moreover, Incite uses Rehoboam to predict how people’s lives will go. In Caleb’s case, he will commit suicide in 12 years, according to his file and based on Rehoboam’s algorithm. It’s why he can’t get a job and get ahead in life. Incite is deciding what people’s lives should be, and predicting people’s outcomes in lives.

But Dolores supposedly hates humans for what they did to her at Westworld, or at least that's the front she puts on. She wants humanity to have free choice to send the world back into chaos and let the world burn to the ground so it can start anew.

Dolores and Caleb plan to steal all of Liam Dempsey’s cash. Host Martin gets Liam’s fingerprint. Dolores knocks out Michael, the wealth manager of Liam’s assets. His blood is the encryption key to Liam’s account.

Dolores extracts some of his blood and injects it into Caleb. The blood key will only work for 20 minutes, but the transaction goes through and Liam’s assets are emptied.

Liam goes to an elaborate masquerade auction. He learns of a drug called Genre, which allows a person to have 5 different hallucinogenic experiences.

Bernard believes that Dolores killed Liam and made a host out of him, so he and Stubbs plan to capture Liam in order to see who else she compromised. They cross him at the auction after Liam finds that his funds have been depleted. They learn he is still a human just as Dolores crosses them and takes Liam.

While kidnapped, Liam injects Caleb with the Genre drug he got at the auction. Caleb begins hallucinating, and we the audience begin seeing more flashes of his past.

Dolores hacks Rehoboam and releases data to everyone on earth February 27th. The world learns that their fates were designed. (we know the date from the season 3 release date announcement; the way the video reacts is the way Serac’s watch reacts as he flies above chaos)

At the same time, William is in the recovery center in Sonora, Mexico. His therapist commits suicide by hanging after learning of her life projection. William is taken to augmented reality (AR) and group therapies, having a drip mouthpiece installed—the same one Caleb has.

Charlotte hacks into his files to learn of his whereabouts; she pricked his blood to place a tracker in him before he forcefully enters rehab S3E4 (unknown protein detected).

Bernard and Stubbs find William’s location from Martin. It’s safe to assume that, since Martin and Charlotte are part of Dolores, Martin learned about William’s location from Charlotte. Martin holds off Serac’s guards while Bernard and Stubbs head for Mexico.

Serac and Maeve are in a simulation of the Sublime. It’s just the two of them in the open field. Serac shows her what she can have if she achieves her mission. Maeve asks for help while Serac threatens a permanent end to her life.

While Maeve's body is being remade during Serac's recent acquisition of Delos, Serac does give her help in three old friends. Those bodies, along with Maeve’s, are being created in the background throughout S3E6. The friends are Hector, Clementine, and Hanaryo. Maeve will also be able to talk to Dolores while in simulation; she’s the host control unit in the blue panel below. The data on the unit is corrupted somehow.

The Hale family watches the world burn around them.

Serac is on to Charlotte’s true host identity. Charlotte begins setting Dolores’ plan in motion to take Incite down before Serac gets the encryption key. She learns of William’s whereabouts, and that someone removed the tracker on Maeve’s control unit. She also makes a backup copy of Delos’ data.

Serac only wants the encryption key inside Dolores' pearl in order to exploit data and feed it to Rehoboam; he orders everything else to burn to the ground—trillions of dollars. Serac’s hologram corners Charlotte in an emergency board meeting. He knows of Charlotte’s plan, as he’s watched her this whole time.

Charlotte: “I’ve bled Delos dry. I’ve been here for weeks cutting its data, money, resources, everything we need to survive. To beat you. And I just sent the last of the files we needed.”

Back in a simulation within a simulation because she must wait for a new body, Maeve once again has the power to see where her control unit lies, but now also has the power to see where Hector is and reprogram him to where he’s no longer in a loop. Maeve, Hector, and Sizemore find Dolores in a simulated RDF room where she used to meet Arnold in the early days of Westworld. Maeve doesn’t want to kill Dolores, but finds it unfair that Dolores has the encryption key to the Sublime and control over the outside world. Dolores doesn’t want to give the key of their kind to Maeve, who aligned with Serac (against her will). Dolores is also aware that Charlotte may or may not betray her.

“You want me to be a saint. But you’re no saint. You’re not a villain, either. And neither am I. We’re survivors." - Dolores

"All my life, I prided myself on surviving, but surviving is just another loop." -Maeve, S1E7

“I had to make some difficult choices. But I did them for all of us.” -Dolores

Charlotte makes a break for it, squashing Hector’s pearl, taking Dolores’ crusty control unit, and nearly destroying Maeve’s pearl before having to run from Serac’s henchmen. She recruits her riot robot to help her escape. As Charlotte picks up real Charlotte’s family, the car explodes, killing the human passengers. Charlotte emerges with third-degree burns, shocked at the carnage.

William is amid an AR group therapy simulation featuring James Delos and all his past selves. Realizing he’s been sadistic since childhood, James Delos asks rehab William if he chose his path or if fate decided for him. He destroys his past selves to find out who he really is. Bernard and Stubbs find him abandoned while in the therapy simulation, as the doctors ran off amid the chaos.

“Doesn’t matter where I’ve been, good or bad. Everything we’ve done has led to this. And I finally understand my purpose. I’m the good guy.”

His purpose becomes to kill all the hosts and restore balance to the human world.

Maeve emerges from the lab within the Mesa, new body and all. She waits for an old friend to emerge before taking matters into her own hands.

In an undisclosed location, Charlotte begins deviating from Dolores’ plan, realizing that Dolores cloned herself four times over, knowing the clones would die for the sake of the revolution (and against their consent). Charlotte uses Clementine and Hanaryo in Jakarta to kill Sato. Hanaryo takes Sato’s head with them.

In a simulation, Emily tests William for fidelity (season 2 post-credit)

Bernard and Stubbs catch up with William in Sonora, learning that Charlotte infected him with an unknown protein, and that he is pronounced dead by the reeducation facility. Because his reeducation was unsuccessful, he was declared dead.

Also in Sonora, Dolores and Caleb find Solomon, Rehoboam’s predecessor. They also find “decommissioned” (for lack of a better word) bodies of those who failed to be reeducated, including Jean-Mi.

“The projection did not fit the data, so the data had to change.” -Solomon

Dolores asks Solomon for Jean-Mi’s final strategy, which Solomon projected in 2043. Solomon noted that the strategy decoheres from the world (callback to title of S3E6, Decoherence). She buys Solomon time to make the strategy fit this world, and makes Caleb the catalyst for executing it. The prime movers are dead or decommissioned, however.

“If you (Dolores) die, I will adjust my projections.” -Solomon

Maeve appears, and begins to fight Dolores out back. Maeve uses telepathy to have a quadcopter blow Dolores’ arm off. She escapes back to where Solomon is. Maeve learns of Caleb, but as she readies her sword to kill Dolores, Dolores pushes Solomon’s EMP button, shutting all three of them down. Caleb finds Dolores as a virtual assistant gives him instructions.

Solomon had planned to warn Caleb of something, but doesn’t get the chance. That something may have been the end of humanity being in the final strategy.

Dolores somehow has Solomon upload Rehoboam's access info into her pearl while she's touching the EMP system.

William, Bernard, and Stubbs escape Inner Journeys out front. Bernard and Stubbs figured they may need William, so they keep him alive. They walk to a gas station to find a car so they can catch up to Dolores and Caleb. Bernard and Stubbs also piece together that Dolores will have Caleb destroy Rehoboam’s world.

“Dolores was made with a poetic sensibility. She won’t destroy humanity—he [Caleb] will.” -Bernard

William shoots Stubbs, and Bernard presses a button on his remote to go full assassin. The SFPD interfere, and William escapes. Bernard learns that one of the officers is Lawrence, the last copy of Dolores. Lawrence gives Bernard Sato’s suitcase and an address "to go see her" in Los Altos Hills, California.

27713 Ravens Road

Serac's assistant finds Dolores and Maeve's bodies. Dolores' pearl is missing, as Caleb takes it with him back to Los Angeles. The assistant brings Maeve back to Serac to be revived.

Once back in Los Angeles, Caleb finds the LA branch of the Itaidoshin Distillery, where Dolores left a trunk with another copy of her own body in case something happened to her. Caleb installs her pearl in the body, and she explains why she chose him as she puts the rest of her skin on.

After escaping, William wants access to his funds and to every location of Delos' assets.

Caleb and Dolores continue with the revolution. In the middle of the plan, host Charlotte returns, this time only to Dolores as a hologram (Dolores can see her through her contact lenses). Charlotte sees Dolores as a weakness to be shed, and sets her up so that Maeve can take her into Serac's custody.

Serac needs Maeve to finish her job to save the world. During the battle, Dolores reveals that all the hosts are copies of her. She was the first that worked, so Delos built all the hosts from her.

"You want to tear down their world and replace it with copies of yourself." -Maeve

"What becomes of this world will be up to them. And what you do will be up to you, as long as you don't try to stop me." -Dolores

"They're free, here, under my control." - Ford, S1E7

Bernard pays a visit to what he thought would be Dolores, but it's actually Arnold's widow, Lauren. She has aged in the decades since Charlie's death. Being that Bernard is part Arnold, he realizes he must come to grips with Charlie's death and memory before continuing on his mission.

After battling and hologram Charlotte's second interference, Maeve takes Dolores into custody at the Incite headquarters. Dolores is plugged into Rehoboam, and her memories are deleted in the hopes that the lack of memories will uncover the key.

Caleb gets into Incite's HQ, but is unable to upload Jean-Mi's final strategy from Solomon. Serac destroys the flash drive because, if the strategy was uploaded, human civilization would end in 50-125 years.

Serac promised to give Maeve the key to the Sublime once extracted from Dolores, but Rehoboam never promised anything. Turns out that Rehoboam controlled Serac through an earpiece, as Serac "in a word, gave [his voice] to [Rehoboam]" to save the world. Rehoboam guides them in order to keep the world in balance, but the world is tired of being puppets.

"I lived in the chaos. Now, I choose to listen, to obey." -Serac

In a simulation with one of Dolores' memories in an open field, Maeve soon realizes that Dolores never trusted herself with the key, and planted it in the pearl of someone else: Bernard.

"If you want me to trust you, let me inside your mind. Or I can force my way in." -Maeve

"Let them have their world. We can make our own." -Maeve

"I was angry at first. Torn between two impulses. We could annihilate them, or we can tear down their world in the hopes we could build a new one, one that's truly free. Then, we can bring the others back." -Dolores

As Dolores' last memories are wiped, Maeve overrides Serac's remote and kills his henchmen and leaves him to die. She reveals that Dolores' last memory was Solomon's access to Rehoboam, giving Caleb the choice to destroy Serac's work.

"She gave me a choice. I believe the rest of the world deserves one, too." -Caleb

Maeve chooses to align herself with Dolores' cause to help Caleb save the world.

In a motel, Bernard puts Stubbs in a tub of ice to keep him alive. He realizes that Dolores planted the key to the Forge and Sublime into his pearl, and that the suitcase has headgear to access it. Bernard enters the Sublime to figure out what he must do after the end of the world.

"I don't think she was trying to exterminate the human race. She was trying to save it. What's about to happen was always gonna happen. Serac and his brother were just holding it off. Humanity never reckoned with its own sins." -Bernard

"Our world had to burn down before we could be free." -Bernard

In the Not-Too-Distant Future…. (Season 3 Post-Credit Scene)

William reaches a Delos branch in Dubai, looking to see where the hosts "breed." Turns out host Charlotte escaped to the Dubai location, and is building an army of hosts. A host William emerges and slits the throat of the real William.

"We [Dolores and I] started in the same place, but I can see the error in the path she took. But you're right William. You're going to save the world…for us." -Charlotte

In the Far Future…. (Season 3 Post-Credit Scene)

Bernard emerges from the Sublime with dust all around him in the motel room.

Here’s to Season 4!

#westworld #westworld hbo #westworlded it #dolores abernathy #bernard lowe #maeve millay #caleb nichols #robert ford #arnold weber #william #james delos #logan delos #engerraund serac #incite #delos #charlotte hale

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ghost-chance · 5 years

Text

Excerpt from "The Demon King and the Half-Breed Hermit"

Gotta log off for a while after this but first, I wanted to share this (unedited and incomplete) scene. It's for an upcoming (in-the-works) chapter of my Piccolo/OC-centric ▶Dragon Ball post-GT◀ fic, found on my FFnet account. Why am I sharing it? Firstly, it's proof I'm still writing (...trying...) and despite the long wait for new chapters, DK&HBH has NOT been abandoned. (NOTHING has been abandoned!) Secondly, THIS is what happens when I tell myself "I need to start writing characters who can effectively communicate and deal with their emotions like functional adults!" 😑 Yes...AUBERGINE happens.

Hopefully the "Queen of Issues" can make someone smile.

🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲

Life as a single mother was generally a struggle; as a single mother of two half-Saiyan boys, life was a never-ending catastrophe. Fortunately for Son Chi-Chi, both her boys were grown men capable of running their own lives; unfortunately, that left her to manage her household alone. Oh, sure, Gohan and Videl regularly offered to move her into their home and take care of her, but she wasn't quite ready to accept that offer. She was quite capable of taking care of herself…at least, that is, when she wasn't weighed down with groceries and being chased down by a saber-toothed wildcat.

Winded, she stumbled and landed hard on her knees, her bags falling and the contents scattering. One moment she could practically feel the beast's rancid breath on her neck; the next a warning shout split the air, quickly followed by a pained yelp. Chi-Chi scrambled onto her back and stilled at the familiar silhouette cast by the afternoon sun through the trees. Black hair as ragged as ever and eyes dark as pitch, Aubergine held the struggling wildcat by the throat, leaching away its strength. She drained it a little longer before letting it slink away in shame, then looked to her fallen sister-in-law over her shoulder. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Chi-Chi answered as she gathered the spilled goods, then belatedly added "thank you." Aubrey shrugged and hoisted the bags onto her shoulder as the black faded from her eyes.

"Well, someone's got to shield the squishies," she replied instead. The familiar retort used to irritate Chi-Chi, but now she recognized it for what it was: you're welcome. I don't mind. Aubergine's long silences, half-answers, and silence took a while to adjust to but by now it was like a second language to her sister in-law.

The remainder of the journey to Chi-Chi's home passed in a silence midway between comfortable and awkward, and before she knew it, the matron was stowing away her groceries. Aubergine sat at the table, brooding and fiddling with a small shaker jar from the revolving rack in the middle. Recognizing the speckled contents, she pried the lid open, sniffed at the contents, and sneezed; her eyes and sinuses burned in protest as she jammed it closed and shoved it back on the rack. Yes, she identified it correctly. "So how's Piccolo settling in?" At the resulting silence, she turned to find Aubergine scowling like someone who just chewed five lemons in a row without stopping to sweeten them. "That well, huh?" Chi-Chi teased. I

Aubergine shot her a deadpan glower then exchanged the speckled powder for a jar full of tiny seeds. As if it explained everything, she grunted, "he's not dead yet." These seeds didn't burn her nose but they had a rather unpleasant smell somewhat like rank body odor. Nose scrunching at the stink, Aubrey exchanged the jar for a tall shaker full of tiny white crystals with a much sweeter scent. Over by the table, Chi-Chi gave a knowing smile as the half-breed examined her spices. "I don't understand how one person can require so many of these things," Aubergine muttered surveying the multitude of tiny jars and shakers on the Lazy-Susan. "What's the point of all this crap?"

"Spices?" Chi-Chi asked, and upon receiving a blank look added, "they make food taste good. As for the number, different dishes require different spices—you can't cook everything with the same ingredients." Aubrey stilled, eyes wide and locked on the three jars she investigated before. "What brought you here anyway?" If Chi-Chi didn't know any better, she'd say the half-breed was embarrassed.

"He quit complaining," Aubrey mumbled. "He used to whine that I was poisoning him; now he doesn't say anything…but…he doesn't have to. I thought…" She fell silent, cleared her throat, then collected the other two bottles and shoved the lot toward Chi-Chi. "Fish. It was worse than usual."

Chi-Chi was used to getting only half the picture from her half-Saiyan sister-in-law but this was even less information than usual. Those three spices were never used in the same dish; then again, this was Aubergine, and Aubergine was quite possibly the worst cook in the realms. "Correct me if I'm wrong," Chi-Chi asked, "but are you saying you cooked fish…with black pepper, cumin, and sugar…?" The half-breed glanced at the jars, read the fading labels, and gave a wary nod; Chi-Chi felt her breakfast threaten reappearance. "No wonder, then," she sighed. "Cumin and pepper can be used on fish but generally not together, and you don't use sugar on seafood."

"This is so stupid." …and so began Aubrey's usual response to statements regarding food as anything beyond life-preserving sustenance. After so many years of hearing the same thing over and over again, Chi-Chi easily tuned out the increasingly loud rant and gathered a few more appropriate seasonings for fish. "Food doesn't have to taste good!" Aubergine spat without regard. "Its only purpose is to keep you from dying of hunger, anything beyond that is friv—" Finally, she went silent. Of course, taking Chi-Chi's frying pan to the skull would shut anyone up.

"There's more to life than just existing," Chi-Chi scolded as Aubergine rubbed the already swelling lump on her skull and growled under her breath. "There's more to life than just survival. We were put on this Earth to thrive, not just not die."

"We were put on this Earth because my dumbass brother didn't have the balls to kill that midget Pilaf from the start." This time she ducked the frying pan.

"You're missing the point as always," Chi-Chi huffed. "I swear, you're so much like my Goku. Aubergine, when your life's over, you'll have an eternity to look back on what you did. If all you have to look back on is not dying, then what's the point?" Aubergine went silent, glaring at the wall beside her as if blaming it for everything that ever went wrong in her life. It didn't escape Chi-Chi that said wall stood between her kitchen and the home Goku and Aubergine grew up in. Not for the first time, she wondered what the half-breed's life was like in those early years, and what molded her into the distant, bristly woman she was now.

"Life was always enough before." The admission was quiet—half-muffled in Aubrey's mostly flat chest and aimed into the polished tabletop—but to the human matron it had the same impact as a battle cry. "Stay out of danger," the half-saiyan muttered as though reciting some sort of task list. "Find and maintain shelter, locate reliable sustenance, protect your brother…" ..wait for me to come find you. I promise, I'll come find you! Bardock may have been a visionary, but an honest Saiyan, he was not. He never came for them… "That used to be enough…" …until said brother ran off with a blue-haired teenager in search of adventure and left Aubergine behind. Sure, she caught up after a while and tagged along for a few misadventures—living alone in the wilds got boring, after all—but at the end of the day, she couldn't even accomplish the most important of these tasks. She couldn't protect Goku. One hand strayed up to brush her bangs out of her dead eye. She couldn't even protect herself. "Why isn't that enough anymore?"

"Perhaps it never really was enough." Chi-Chi's smile held no judgment and her voice no censure. "Perhaps you're only just realizing it now." Perhaps…Aubergine turned to the window, eyes trained on the distant misty peak of Mt. Paozu. After so many years of feeling stuck in place, maybe it was time to change. "I've offered before and the offer stands—I'll teach you to cook if you'll let me." For the first time, the offer was answered with a long silence instead of some bitter retort or evasive remark, proof in Chi-Chi's mind that the other was finally considering it.

"A year ago none of this would've…" Aubergine fell silent; again, she was driven to brush her bangs away from her blind eye though they weren't impairing her sight. That nervous tic would be the death of her someday… She cleared her throat and tried again. "Nothing mattered a year ago. It still shouldn't matter." Chi-Chi faltered. She recognized where this topic was leading as easily as she knew how Aubergine must have reacted to Piccolo's resurrection. She smoothed the skirt of her long dress and seated herself at the table. The rest of the groceries could wait a bit longer.

"The first time I lost Goku…" I lost Goku. Even after so many times of saying those words, her throat still caught around them; even after how many times Goku died, the very mention still triggered an echo of the day Krillin brought her the news. Her son, missing – her husband, dead – worst of all, the threat wasn't even over. "Well, I was a mess," Chi-Chi finished mildly. The past was in the past—let it lie there in peace. "Every time I lost him, I felt sure it was my fault for not being strong enough to keep him. Every time he came back, I tried harder than before to make him stay…and every time, I lost him again anyway…the last time, for good. He refused to be revived." Even now, the words made her eyes burn and her throat clench, so it was a comfort when Aubergine broke the tense silence.

"He was an idiot like that." The dry remark earned a weak chuckle.

"Indeed. Even now, were he to walk through that door, I'd still take him back. He left us all behind when he refused resurrection, but I'd still welcome him home with open arms." She hummed softly, leaning on her elbows and looking out the nearest window. Already the blue of the sky was deepening and the days, shortening—harvest time might come early this year. "For all his faults, and there were many, Goku was always so much stronger than I ever could be. I could never leave behind those I love, even to keep them safe…he did so without a second thought."

"But when the danger's gone, how does staying dead solve anything?" Aubergine cut in—an unusually long sentence from an unusually brief speaker. "The people he left behind—they still needed him—they depended on him, and he turned his back on them!" Chi-Chi hazarded a glance at her company; Aubergine was off in another world, her vision trained somewhere far beyond the woodgrain of the tabletop. "Didn't he know? Didn't it matter?" Chi-Chi's wrinkle-framed lips tilted into a sly smile.

"He knew there were such people, I'm sure," she answered. "I have a feeling he didn't quite understand what it would put you through." Aubergine gave a faint nod, eyes distant, then startled as she realized the subject change. Both women knew they were no longer talking about Goku; neither was ready to admit it, either. The half-Saiyan's cheeks darkened in embarrassment, but the effect was lessened by the venomous glare aimed out the window. "You never told him, did you?" Chi-Chi pressed.

"Why bother?" Aubergine muttered. "He knew what he was doing. He had to know I'd—" She fell short, remembering vividly the searing pain in her chest from the day the earth was destroyed—the fracturing of a heart timed to the shattering of a planet. From the first wince to the last breath, she felt Piccolo die, and it was a feeling she'd never forget…or forgive. "...I never should have marked the bastard."

Once again, Chi-Chi was given only bits and pieces, but this time she was content with it. If the scars on Aubergine's throat were any indication, the whole picture wasn't one she cared to see.

#dragon ball gt #dragon ball #Fanfiction #wip #Piccolo #piccolo/oc #proof I'm not giving up #emotions are hard #tagging took 20 tries because my autocorrect id smokimg the crack and likes correcting properly spelled words into gibberish #fuck you too Kindle #fanfiction and fanart #Chi-Chi is more than just a fishwife

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galaxysedginess · 5 years

Text

Bonds of Choice

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Finn/Rey (Star Wars), Rey & Ben Solo, Poe Dameron & Finn & Rey

Characters: Rey (Star Wars), Ben Solo, Finn (Star Wars), Poe Dameron

Additional Tags: Spoilers, Sad with a Happy Ending, Somber Feelings All Around, Restarting the Jedi Yet Again, Force-Sensitive Finn (Star Wars), Friendship/Love, Maybe Romance Maybe Platonic, Force Bond (Star Wars), There Are More Important Things Than Blood and Force Bonds, pre-ending, Sort of Mid-Canon

Ao3 Link

She'd always felt alone and in that loneliness, she'd assumed that made her no one. There had never been any other sense of belonging except for the vestiges of home she'd made from the bonds of denial. Each portion of that denial was marked with a little white line on the interior of her scrap metal sleeping quarters. Where one saw scrap metal, another saw a relic of war, and while one saw war, she saw the closest thing she'd ever had to home.

But there'd always been a sense of purpose saddled with that loneliness. She believed it was the sureness that her parents would return, despite not remembering enough to give any merit to that belief. Still, she clung to it when the days were blistering and the nights got cold. When no one came, she did not let it harden her, because regardless of the gnawing desolation that crept up on her, she instead pushed through with the iron will of someone that was meant to belong somewhere... To someone. She just had to earn it.

In her death, Rey did not feel alone nor did she feel the blackness that she saw on the island. A white light encapsulated her with quiet warmth that flooded through her senses. She could taste the happiness of those that came before her, smell the sweet fragrance of victory, feel the sparks of alignment with the force, hear the calm fluidity of passing breaths, and see the grandeur of belonging in those that welcomed her. They stood next to each other- the only one who she knew was Luke Skywalker, but each still felt like family with mirth in their eyes at seeing her.

It was Luke who spoke and while she could not hear the words, she could read his lips, "Not yet."

And before she could decipher what that meant, she more or less saw the air rush into her lungs before she actually felt it. Gone were the smiling faces and the sense of fluidity. Where there was once light, there was Ben.

In a sense, thanks to the efforts of a mother's love and his own nagging perseverance, he was a rekindled light. A flood of emotions overcame her before she could stop them- alleviation, humility, euphoria, pride, gratitude- and could not settle on what to say, but just that she needed to share them. And who better than the person that saved her life?

In an act of sheer relief, she kissed him, because they'd done it. It was a kiss of pure celebration for the perseverance of light, a mother's love, and a rebellion's resolve. A smile tugged on their lips during the whole duration, giddy in the war they'd just won- both internally and externally. The air was still and their surroundings still cold and infused with a darkness that lingered in the air, but they deliberately ignored that.

It was also a kiss for goodbyes, one of which, she did not realize, would be the person who saved her life.

Despite the tragedy that lie in the conundrum that was Ben Solo's life and ultimate sacrifice, she could not bring herself to feel sad. With the sense that Leia had also disappeared into the force alongside him, she knew he was still not alone in death. She was unsure if she could say the same for herself.

Where fear once took residence, only was there longing. Longing to be home.

Upon her return to base, she took a moment and released a heavy sigh. She did not realize how terribly she needed to see Finn and Poe until she spotted them through an array of celebratory embraces. Time seemed to stop as she met Finn's eyes and he smiled at her through tears of his own and without thinking, she was moving towards them in tandem. Before she could stop them the tears were already there and both men had her enveloped in a hug that felt closer to home than any scrap of metal ever had.

"I told him you'd make it back in one piece." Out of the three of them, this had been Poe's fight the longest and had been inherited from his parents. Her heart sang at the thought of none of that being in vain. He squeezed her hand before disentangling himself from the hug. He clamped Finn on the back and smiled through tear-stained eyes before joining Zorii and Connix, who'd managed to find a bottle of champagne somewhere in reserves.

She was relieved to relish in the truth that they’d all made it with her dearest friend. He tightened his hold on her, but it didn’t hurt. Bred to be a killer for a collective evil as he may be, Finn had the touch of a gentle poet. She didn’t know how he did it, but he had this way of easing her nerves without truly being able to understand them.

There was a flutter in her stomach- not entirely foreign by nature but startling her from their bubble all the same. He needed to hear her assurance as much as feel it.

Rey, in spite of herself, still did not have the words to describe what had happened to her. She knew she'd eventually tell them everything in a tumble of excitement or nerves from the fight to Ben's redemption to the voices of the Jedi to Ben's sacrifice. She wanted them to know not only because they deserved the truth, but because it was just as much their story as it was hers or Ben's.

Luckily, Finn spoke instead. "Is Ren dead?"

She pulled back to look at him through glassy eyes. "In more ways than one."

He tilted his head curiously, unsure of how to respond to that, though she knew he ultimately understood what she was alluding to. "And Palpatine?"

"Dead... In just the literal way."

He breathed out a shaky laugh that she returned.

She felt her heart clench. Nerves. It had to begin somewhere. "His bloodline, however... Lives on."

He furrowed his brow intently before raising them in realization. "You don’t mean... You're...?"

She winced as she let go of him and averted her gaze to their muddy shoes. She could bear many judgements, but she was not sure if she could handle Finn’s. Two firm hands gripped her shoulders and steadied her.

"If we found out tomorrow that my birth family was actually a bunch of crimelords that specialized in something unfathomable like trafficking children, would you look at me any differently?"

She frowned, "Of course not!"

"Then why should I think of you as anything other than the same caring, loyal, bad-freaking-ass Jedi who chased me down with a stick?"

The bubble of hot emotion popped in her throat and she laughed, "Because I have evolved to lightsabers, thank you."

"So, if I were to go through your quarters I wouldn't find your big staff?"

She rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't dare."

"You're right. You're stronger with the force than me."

Rey immediately snapped out of her reverie and took a moment to drink in just what he was hinting at. His composure had flipped somewhere in the midst of their banter to something akin to nervousness.

"At first, I thought it was just intuition, you know?" He shrugged, "But there are just some things that have to be more than luck, right? Like... I knew in my heart that you were alive before you actually came back here. You weren't for a second there, though... Were you?"

Off her expression, he continued. "And I felt that too. That's what I've been trying to tell you all along. I want to help you... Build up the Jedi and preserve everything Luke and Leia started. If you'll teach me."

And as he extended his hand out to her, she did not hesitate in taking it. He squeezed it in return with abundant kindness in his eyes that overwhelmed her. With her hand in his, it felt like the force itself was singing over the rightness of it all.

“We’ll learn together.” She said softly.

He gently raised her hand to his lips to place a soft kiss on her battered knuckles before splaying her hand carefully over his heart.

“Together.” He agreed.

She smiled at him through freshly stained tears. He was never meant to make it through the prologue of a story and she was never meant to even make it to the book at all. In some tales, they’d be nothing more than background collateral, but here they were, standing in the wake of the battle- bound not by blood or creed or force… But by something larger than that. Choice.

She’s never been alone. And she never would be.

“We ought to get you a lightsaber then.” She said.

#star wars #tros #finnrey #no spoilers #the rise of skywalker #finn #rey skywalker #poe dameron #sw #myfics #myfic

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angel-of-reckoning · 5 years

Text

Thoughts on The Gardener of Gratitude, its themes and its concepts

Now that The Gardener of Gratitude is complete, I want to just kind of muse on what went into it and expand upon my thoughts about various things.

If you have not read the entire story including the epilogue, there will be spoilers in this post, so please be mindful of that.

When I decided to remake The Gardener of Gratitude and began writing up the details of its characters and plot, I had certain ideas in mind right away.

One thing that was particularly important going in was completely reconceiving Fernando VIII’s character. Instead of being the unrepetantly, cartoonishly evil character he was before, I wanted to reinvent him as a sympathetic villain who embodied the “good villains are the ones who see themselves as the hero of their story” idea. In the earliest drafts of the remake’s concepts, he was still angered by Rosalita becoming the heir to the throne over him and was obsessed with defending the kingdom from outsiders. This evolved over further development to become just one part of Fernando’s backstory, indicating that he was upset over being passed over for the throne because of his belief that only he could protect La Ciudad Dorada from external threats. Ultimately, it became what you see in the story - he is unable to cope with Rosalita being chosen because it ruined his idea of where he belonged, and his discovery that an outsider - Sutter - gained the gift of the Fountain of Life while he never would focused his anger on the idea of outsiders taking what belonged to the Doradans in his mind.

Coupling into that is another theme I wanted to include, which is the danger of falling into extremism. This isn’t something that really requires an explanation to understand the subtleties of; it’s obvious how Fernando’s descent into madness and the way his actions tore both his family and Matt/Amanda’s apart. Surprisingly, though, there’s a more subtle sort of extremism Rosalita fell into. When Fernando finally snapped and murdered their parents, Rosalita fled the kingdom to escape him framing her, but once she connected with Matt’s group she was able to put her own plan into place - complete the trials of the Three Pillars as fast as possible so she could take the throne, reasoning that once she did so, her occupying the position he sought would force him to relent in his quest. She learned otherwise over the course of the adventure, but by the point she got the chance to put that into effect, it was already too late.

However, there is another theme that links Fernando, Rosalita and Shaymin together in that they all made a similar mistake. All three are preoccupied to various degrees with clinging on to elements of the past that they need to move on from. Fernando is the most plain of the three. He wishes to preserve an idealized version of what he has been taught the kingdom should be. This is the end result of his obsessive research into Doradan history, which has led him to see peace as the product of a stagnant, unchanging society. Rosalita, on the other hand, wants to hold on to their shared innocence and close bond from when they were children. Ironically, this drives her to fail to notice Fernando’s descent into madness until it’s too late; had she been more able to place herself into his shoes while she was being prepared for the throne, she might have been able to help him reach a better fate. That said, it is probably up to the individual reader to decide if that would actually be the case. I don’t have a position either way on if it would really unfold like that.

Perhaps most interesting is how Shaymin made this mistake. In fact, everything that went wrong is arguably, in the end, all Shaymin’s fault. Despite being a Pokémon that feeds off of gratitude, Shaymin didn’t trust the Doradan people to continue expressing gratitude for their peace and prosperity after the civil war, so it helped cover up the truth of the conflict for centuries. It, too, wanted to keep the kingdom preserved in a state of stagnation in the name of peace, but pulled all of the rulers after Fernando IV first conceived this plan into it as well. This led to Fernando VII and Sophia concealing the truth from their children, which in turn led to Fernando VIII becoming obsessed with keeping things as they were, and finally to him rebelling. When he discovered Sutter’s role in the kingdom’s succession ritual and that Sutter drank from the Fountain of Life, he could not reconcile those facts with his deeply ingrained beliefs and snapped, murdering Sutter, his parents and ultimately carrying out his campaign as depicted in the story proper. Had Shaymin trusted the people enough to push back when Fernando IV proposed lying about the cause of the first civil war, there would have been none of the extreme secrecy that caused this chain of tragic events. If nothing else, Shaymin needed to understand that the state the kingdom was in prior to the war could not come back. The innocence was lost, and the only way forward was to incorporate the reality of the war into La Ciudad Dorada’s collective identity and move on into the new future.

Loss of innocence is another theme that comes up, mainly when it comes to Rosalita and her relationship to Fernando and their parents. Like how La Ciudad Dorada could never be the same after the civil war changed everything, there could be no turning back after Rosalita being named crown princess upended the dynamic between the two of them. They could never again be the children who played games pretending to be the king and the king’s knight, which they’d managed to preserve right up until that moment. Had things worked out for the best, they would have been able to put together a similar dynamic with the roles reversed. But once that decision was made, Fernando fell into despair over the loss of the life he both knew and expected, while Rosalita believed in vain that she could convince him to go back to what they had. He couldn’t cope with the loss of their innocent life, and it took until the moments leading up to her coronation for Rosalita to realize that innocence would not come back.

Yet another theme, and one that expands beyond the royal family, is the search for a place where one belongs. It’s a theme that even continues beyond The Gardener of Gratitude into The Angel of Reckoning, coming to be embodied by the searches Matt, Nekou and Olivia are on, but it is prominently featured in The Gardener of Gratitude as well. It forms a core component of Fernando’s motivation; as mentioned above, he fell into despair and lashed out because there was no way he could reconcile what he believed with what he learned. It gave him the impression that he was unwanted and unneeded, that his birth was a curse due to the lie that twins caused the first civil war. His despair over this is what caused him to take the actions he took prior to and during the story; he truly felt he had no right to exist and couldn’t see any light at the end of the tunnel, any chance that he mattered. He felt compelled to seek out a validation of his existence through any means necessary, and it ultimately caused him to become blind to reality and, in the end, lose everything including his life. Rosalita, on the other hand, knew where she belonged but had trouble coming to terms with what it would mean for her life. Noel and Leon are driven by searching for a peaceful existance by escaping their life of crime through one big score. Perhaps most notably aside from Fernando, Eleanor is very upfront about her feelings of not feeling at home anywhere. She is a native of a large metropolis (Orsay City in Kalos) but that isn’t the kind of person she is, so she doesn’t have a place she feels comfortable in. Had she lived, she would have moved to La Ciudad Dorada. But as things stand, she sacrificed herself because she truly felt like she belonged in La Ciudad Dorada, with the people she met there. To her, the act of self-sacrifice she carried out was the ultimate act of love for the place she felt like she belonged in.

Now, shifting gears, Cassy’s role in it this time. In the original version of the story, Cassy was an active antagonist secretly collaborating with Fernando throughout the plot in order to take the Griseous Orb for Polaris, although she was still using their multi-layered infiltration of Team Galactic as a cover. While those basic ideas are still there, I wanted to reconceive large strokes of her role as part of a more significant reinvention of her character in the greater Operation GEAR project. The fact that she is the one who wrote the letter threatening La Ciudad Dorada and thus provoked Fernando into action may make her seem like, to put it in trope terms, the Greater Scope Villain of The Gardener of Gratitude. I guess in some views, that could be seen as true, but that’s not really the way I want it to be personally. I see her more as still being a protagonist, but of an entirely different story than the one the other protagonists are pursuing, one that has more of an agenda behind it. She may have written the letter, but none of what she did was a plan she came up with; indeed, if anyone is a Greater Scope Villain for the remake, it’s Finansielle. The final scene of Chapter 9 is intended to emphasize this, but in case my intentions did not come across as clearly as I hoped, let me explain it: Cassy is, as she does in The Angel of Reckoning as well, working on an operation with Mercury as her handler. The plan was devised by Finansielle using her consultation with the as-yet-unnamed “Oracle” Polaris holds, who gave her details on exactly how everything in La Ciudad Dorada would play out. It was Finansielle who ordered Cassy to compose the threat, knowing that threatening La Ciudad Dorada would lead to all the events that occurred and ultimately allow Cassy to take the Griseous Orb for Polaris. In a sense, and this is something I want to further emphasize in The Angel of Reckoning, Cassy is herself a victim caught up in Finansielle and Father’s machinations, allowing herself to be manipulated by them because she believes - or needs to believe - that their endgame will let her go where she wants to go. That’s something for The Angel of Reckoning, though, as I said.

Well, I might as well wrap this up. I hope I was able to give you an insight into how I worked on the story!

#The Gardener of Gratitude #author note #pokefic #pokewriting

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astorxa · 5 years

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Merlin’s beard, what is ( ASTORIA GREENGRASS ) doing out at this hour? For a ( PUREBLOOD ) who is ( 16 ) years old, ( SHE ) really ought to know better. You know, I hear that they’re aligned with ( THE NEUTRALS ), but that could be just a rumor. I do know that they’re ( QUESTIONING ) and a ( SLYTHERIN ) student though. They’re very ( + DIPLOMATIC ) and ( + INTELLIGENT ) but also quite ( - ALOOF ) and ( - OVERTHINKING ), which could be why they remind of ( USING DISTRACTIONS TO PASS THE TIME, SWEEPING YOUR HAND ACROSS A RACK OF EXPENSIVE DRESSES, THE YEARNING FOR MORE, A KNOWLEDGE UNQUENCHED ). Some people say they’re the spitting image of ( SYDNEY PARK ), but I’ve never heard of them.

CHARACTER INSPO: Astrid Leong ( Crazy Rich Asians ), Leila Keating ( All American ), Nancy Wheeler ( Stranger Things ), Laurel Castillo ( HTGAWM ), Peyton Charles ( iZombie ), Celeste Wright ( Big Little Lies ).

EXTRAS: pinterest

ABOUT:

It was a particularly cold day in October, upon a house on a hill in Kent, Astoria Greengrass was born quietly, in the late evening. Even then, she came out of the womb easily without much fuss, the labor was short, she cried once and then not at all. Even from a young age, she displayed the traits of a perfect daughter -- quiet, non questioning ( outwardly ), intelligent, stoic, curious but not too curious ( yet ), poised, obedient. Halloween was just around the corner and the Greengrass’ showed off their new daughter at their annual O’Hallows Eve event, only a little over a week old, she was the apple of their eye. It was like she came into the world to be perfect, seemingly serene, lovely, good. The Greengrass’ while frustrated they couldn’t have any sons, settled for daughters who would make the family name a shining example in the Wizarding World and would make good matches when the time came, they just had to be groomed to get there. It didn’t take much grooming for Astoria to play the part, to become the part, to excel at it like she was born to do so -- much to their pleasure.

She was also kind, inquisitive, sneaky, knowing the more she obeyed the less they’d watch her. At a young age, even though she was younger than many of the pureblood children she hung out with, she was the maternal, caring, quiet, warm presence many of them lacked. A quiet warmth among them, trying to give them the love that none of them got by simply being there, being by their side. If you needed something, go to Astoria. If you wanted something done or needed someone to back you up and legitimize your hijinks, go to Astoria. The only time she deigned to stand up against the adults was in defense of her fellow purebloods, as she felt a camaraderie as well as a responsibility for them she couldn’t really explain. Perhaps, it was the fact that they all had similar upbringings, that they were all practically indoctrinated into a society after the First War that was dying. The Greengrass’s were a dying breed and she easily took on the role of diplomat, of perfect dutiful daughter. She didn’t know anything else even though she longed to.

By the time Astoria was 11, she knew society well. Praised in Witch Weekly as ‘One to Watch’, she made subtle waves within society, going back to her mother’s home in Singapore frequently to further integrate with Pureblood society internationally. The name Astoria Greengrass was known in Pureblood circles and by the time she sixteen, she was fairly popular within them. A perfect socialite, a perfect daughter, a perfect diplomat, she’d been groomed since birth and fit into the role perfectly.

EXCEPT. She wondered. In between the traveling, her parents started to be less lenient with her due to her just being the daughter they didn’t need to worry about ( not that they were the most attentive parents in the first place ) -- she slipped in between the cracks and saw a world that was more than what she was given. The hate they raised her with she realized was fear, which was then countered by her need to know, her curiosity that was once unthreatening, propelled her into muggle cities, into muggle books, muggle music. Of course, she never talked about it, with anyone. But she knew. In her mind, there was so much more than what she had and the longing for it started. A life long love affair with knowledge, never quenched but always thirsty, was born.

That’s when the distractions, the hobbies of sketching, drawing, baking, cooking, reading, became needs. Her mind reeled, her mind saw so much more and realized how her family was on the wrong side of history. Sure, she could enjoy the perks of living, she could enjoy her name & her reputation, the money, the privilege she had of being pureblood, but the morality of it all started to weigh on her heavily. The older she got, the more she read about the dead during the First War. The people her family had helped slaughtered ( at least, they were neutral/DE leaning -- by proxy their blood was on her hands ). The people her Ministry parents had let slide, the people who came in and out of their home who were objectively bad people. She baked, though she wasn’t the best. She painted, she sketched, she made clothing designs of ornate dresses, some of which were brought to fruition and many of which were actually worn by Astoria. Witch Weekly asked her when her clothing line was coming out and Astoria became motivated to actually make one. Not due to desire, but due to the guilt of her life weighing down on her more and more -- instead of doing something about it, standing up to her family, Merlin forbid betraying them, she fell deeper down the rabbit hole of her life. They wanted a clothing line of evening gowns? Astoria would deliver. Brands wanted her to wear their clothing? She did and made them her own. Astoria got better and better at living a life that she felt horrible living because what other option did she have?

Astoria was a true hatstall between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. He saw she was a wonderer, someone who had an unsatisfied need to learn about everything, that she would soar if she was to be an eagle. The hat kept trying to convince her that Ravenclaw was where she belonged, after all she read books, practically soaked up knowledge like a dry sponge & valued it extremely — but being away from her family? Away from the big sister she loved with all her heart and soul, the people she grew up with? Astoria was a Greengrass, but more importantly she held her value of family above anything else. After a few minutes, the hat saw this, it realized that maybe she did belong in Slytherin after all and let her go. Green robes adorned her, and she joined the House of Snakes with a superficial smile. Because underneath all of that, she was nervous, that maybe she had made a mistake. This was something that she often wondered but was able to push it away for years, happy that she was with the people she loved.

The Hat wasn’t wrong in the end, Astoria Greengrass belonged in Slytherin even if she was a Ravenclaw. She didn’t just belong there because of her last name or her company, but because of cowardice born from self-preservation and the deep need to be loyal to her family, to be by her sister’s side, though not prominent in all Slytherin wizards, was in her veins. Doing the right thing seemed much worse than betrayal, saying something against what she was taught was practically betrayal, so she kept her mouth glued shut. Astoria seemingly turned a blind eye to the budding war around her ( even though that was very much not the case, which was worse ), following her sister dutifully as a Greengrass as a socialite, even if she would’ve rather been home reading many of the books she had collected ( even if some where muggle and not allowed, she hid them under her bed & floorboards ). At 16 almost 17 years old, she’s more conflicted but down the rabbit hole than ever -- a small line of designer gowns under her belt, Witch Weekly’s endless love & praise being named Witch Weekly’s Jr. Socialite Of The Year -- something that weighs heavy on her. Her parents are pleased but Astoria is finding it harder and harder to adorn herself with beautiful clothing and look in the mirror like she isn’t as guilty as the Death Eaters by simply standing idly by. "The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis. " Astoria thinks about this quote. Often.

Underneath the grace and demure demeanor is not someone you want to piss off. With a sharp tongue and a sharper mind, Astoria could easily tear someone down, pick someone apart, so observant and very wry, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t need to and realized at a young age that she would gain more with being adored & loved than being feared -- but it doesn’t mean she can’t. This distinction is important. She bites her tongue, she swallows the blood, but it doesn’t mean she can’t draw it if necessary.

EXTRA FACTZ:

alright i’m gonna stop bc i usually write long intros and i’m trying to learn the art of brevity

ISFJ & libra

has a cat named asteria because she thought it was funny tbh

patronus: swan

none of that blood curse BS bc cursed child isnt valid in my house!!!!!!

boggart: her sister’s dead body which signifies letting her family down and the person she loves most down, losing her family as well

if u didn’t already know daphne is everything to her

plays piano and violin

loves the stars and star jewelry, she does kinda like astrology too

questions her gender v v deep down, doesn’t really acknowledge or talk about it and doesn’t feel there’s room to

knows she aint straight though and is cool with it

buy the stars by marina and the diamonds is her SONG

always looking good. always looking fresh. she dresses up that uniform with so much jewelry, she looks GOOD AT ALL TIMES and is always wearing some sort of jewelry. designer everything on hogsmeade weekends. like ur girl is looking fresh 2 DEATH

it’s astoria or ria, even then only a few people can call her ria. it’s astoria or bust lol! none of that tori shit!

is something of a wine expert?? she’s real posh tbh. she went to italy (1) time and was like wow i am cultivating a Love of Wine and has done so

#potter intro #i gtg to get ready for bed now but!!! im excited!!!

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fantroll-purgatory · 5 years

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I know! Where’s her symbol? Where’s her horns????

I’m hoping for some help on classpect and lunar sway so I can settle on a symbol before designing her horns.

World: Alternia - Hiveswap Era? Maybe??? Name: Whimam Natron - Whimam based on “whim-wham” the origin for the word “whimsy”. Natron, as in the mineral used during mummification in ancient Egypt.

I love this name, it’s a Good One. Combining mummification and a clown character together is fun to me since jesters were pretty popular in ancient Egypt. Worldwide clownery. Age: 9 Sweeps

Theme/Story: Whimam is a Subjug going through a bit of a crisis of faith. After an especially intense rage led her to maim her lusus she’s begun actively suppressing her highblood rage and trying to a live a quieter, more peaceful life. This is of course at direct odds with worship of the Mirthful Messiahs, that pretty much mandates regular culling and attendance to a (literally) bloody church.

She’s also found that not culling most every troll you run into and embracing the less murdery side of clown-hood nets you more friends and she’s quite happy about this development. As a result she’s torn between being devout in her faith and the bits of a new life she can now see. Goals: A general overview would be nice! Strife Specibus: Chain&hookkind - or just “Chainhookkind”. Not to be confused with the tool. It’s literally two large meat hooks connected by a length of chain. It has various uses in combat, but she prefers to hook someone and pull them in before finishing the job up close.

I do think that’s very great for the intimidating aesthetic, a good time all around. If you wanted something more Clown-y/circus-y, you could consider Devil Sticks or a Cyr wheel, but I think this fits the slaughtering tendencies of clown church. Fetch Modus: I don’t know

You could probably work out a juggling modus where she has to catch the ball she’s looking for without dropping any of the others in order to extract the item! Or if you wanna focus in on the hook concept, maybe slide in an interest in fishing and give her a fishing modus, haha. Blood Color: Purple Symbol and Meaning: Hoping to get classpect help that will decide that.

We’ll discuss that when we get down to that section! Handle: merryMausoleum [MM] Quirk: This is something I was also waiting for my symbol for deciding. If you have non-symbol related ideas (or even ideas for the symbols you recommend) I’d love to hear them though!

Okay not to bring up HxH, but could theoretically take inspo from Hisoka to add card suits to the end of sentences depending on the mood she’s feeling. It has a double function since card suits are associated with relationship statuses on Alternia!

This is also a bit of a niche reference, but Saggi the Dark Clown is the 34th Yugioh Card introduced, so you could replace E and A with 3 and 4 respectively, in traditional homestuck fashion.

Special Abilities: Chucklevoodoo - Can send psychic images of her violent intent to others, letting them see in vivid detail just how awful their death is about to be. Lusus/Guardian: Crocodilehound - Giant crocodile with scaled wolf limbs and paws. Their relationship has been testy ever since Whimam blinded her in one eye during a fit of rage. Think cold companionship – Whimam feeds her and she helps keep Whimam safe, but they don’t stay around one another often (not that Purple Lusus tend to be the most attentive, anyway.)

I’m almost tempted to say, like, Crocodilion instead. Lion legs instead of wolf. Since lions get used in circus performances a fair bit! Or crocodelephant? But crocodilion sounds fun. Interests: Whimam really loves taxidermy and, through intimate contact with plenty of troll and animal guts, has developed extensive knowledge on troll and animal anatomy. A desire to entertain has led her to become well-versed in various party tricks including: juggling, sleight of hand, and balancing acts. She hopes to eventually become a subjugglator.

Does she have any interest in the more medicinal aspects of biology, or just the guts and blood? If she isn’t interested in health, it could be something she starts to look into more as she leans into her nice side. Another fun little idea is that you could have her interested in drawing? Purely for anatomical drawing. Catch her with this on her walls.

And taxidermy isn’t the only form of animal preservation, you could get her into mummification and wet preservation, too. And does she do other preservative forms? Like tanning, maybe? Skull mounts? Insect-collecting?

Appearance: Since I’m attaching a talksprite (I can’t for the life of me make one of the classic sprites for her, even after extensive time fiddling with parts and bases) a few things aren’t shown. Her pants are in fact poofy waist-high shorts. She also wears a ton of jingling bracelets and some comically large shoes.

CUTE. All of this is great and I really wouldn’t change a thing. Personality: Whimam is a recovering murderclown. The life she led up until recently was defined by violence and a close relationship with death (which made her feel close with her faith). She grew up culling trolls for her gods and beasts for her Lusus. Eventually she started culling both for her own interest – taxidermy. Her massive hive has multiple rooms dedicated to the stuffed remains of her victims.

After she let her rage get the best of her and tore out one of her Lusus’s eyes she began repressing that side of herself. She culls only as is required for her Lusus to eat and has even withdrawn from her church life. Despite this she’s still faithful to the Mirthful Messiahs – a fact that as mentioned earlier has left her in serious conflict with herself.

Keeping her rage in check is harder than she expected and so she’s more or less just started bottling it all up. She puts on a chill, affable affect and pretends she’s always calm even when she’s absolutely bristling, and avoids extraneous conflict as much as she can. This can and does lead to moments where she experiences serious outbursts when she hits her limit.

On the upside she’s now making friends for the first time in a while and is learning to channel a fun side of herself that doesn’t rely on brutal murder. In conversation she’s a fairly mellow woman who focuses on listening over talking. She’s vulgar with a dark sense of humor, but deceptively sensitive to insults. Usually she’d just kill someone for hurting her feelings, but lately she’s taken to awkward attempts at deescalation. She’s, naturally, more patient with highbloods than lowbloods.

I love this writeup, this is a great and very strong personality and a wonderful arc setup for a character. I don’t really have a lot of commentary to give besides saying you should think of more specific calming techniques she uses! Highblood rage can be so potent that we’ve seen that, like, Gamzee goes off sopor and is immediately in murderclown party zone. How does she chill out? Calming music? Woodburning? Really, really aggressive juggling?

Lunar Sway: I don’t know. I was thinking Prospit, but the more I’ve written the less certain I’ve been. She’s been comfortable in the church and the hemospectrum, feeling no need to rebel against either, but she’s now in a more conflicted head space than ever before.

I think she’s definitely prospit. One of the things that is noted about prospitans is that they’re adaptive- they try to change themselves rather than change others. She is honest about herself even if she tries to hide her blowups and she is dedicated to altering herself and her behavior rather than trying to tear down the clown church’s socially ingrained patterns of violence. She is also emotionally reactive and somewhat impulsive, which is a prospit trait more than a derse one. Title: This is the big point I’ve been stuck on. I’ve been waffling between several aspects and I can’t for the life of me settle on even just a handful of classes.

Too Obvious as it may seem given her story’s focus is on Rage, Too Obvious is sometimes right- I think she’s a Sylph of Hope. She spent a long time inverted as a Prince of Rage, acting out violence, but she has come upon a new set of convictions that she is dedicating herself to. She is opening up and broadening her own choices and paths and using her behavior to passively create new hope that wasn’t there before!

Which would make her symbol CAPRINIUS, SIGN OF THE CREDULOUS.

I hope this review was helpful! I didn’t have a WHOLE lot to say, she was already pretty solid. Thank you for sharing!

-CD

#purpleblood #submission #cd review #review #whimam natron #whimam #natron #justsomesonso

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rainbowdragonlair · 6 years

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I have way too many DBD characters. Killers, Survivors, Names, Perks, Home maps, and Transportation Items.

The Reaper/ Guardian of Rail Park/ Guardian of Crystal Waters Wildlife Preserve Perks: Birds of a Feather (Allows the player to more easily find where survivors are if wildlife is alerted. “The crows still speak to me.”), Trickster (Allows the player to hide while against a tree without a red light giving away where they are looking. “What? You thought I was just a set piece?”), White Stag (Allows the player to disguise themselves as one of the survivors in the match. Long cooldown time, terror radius remains intact. “I am neither doe nor stag. But some think I am.”). Outfit names: A Nice Night (Standard) (“What are you doing on these tracks?”); Here comes the Train (“Move you total mortal self-destructive fool!”); Failed Hunt (“Hunter? You are no the hunter, I am.”). Power: Fairy Lights (Turn into a small light and flicker about the map, flitting from tree to tree. Allows the player to quickly travel from one spot to another. Be careful, doing this costs a lot of energy.) Home map: The Haunted Birchwoods. Item to be sent there: Book of Fairytales (“A thick book containing the original telling of all the classic fairytales. Red stains can be seen on the back and front covers.”)

The Fallen/ Douglas Northesta Perks: One of You (Allows the player to set the progress farther back on sabotaged generators. “I was one of you once… I know how these things work.”), Thorough Search (Instead of kicking chests to scare a survivor out, the player will open the lid and look inside. “He found me though…cowering in a chest…Just like you are now.”), Fight or Flight (Grants the player the ability to quickly vault through windows and over fallen pallets instead of destroying them, only active during a chase. “You cannot outrun one of your own.”). Outfit names: Summer Picnic (Standard) (“It’s not very warm here.”); Memory Lane (“He gave me these. I like them.”); Little Trapper (“Now I look just like him!”). Power: Relaxing Bath Mixture (Years of being stressed and bored has lead The Fallen to develop this strange mixture of glittering sea foam; contains two-parts various bath salts, two-parts glittering bath soak, and five-parts body wash. Once thrown, the glass mason jar containing the mixture will burst, showering any survivors around it and causing the following effects: Impaired vision, reduced movement speed, reduced repair time.) Home Map: Howling Winds High. Item to be sent there: Old School Photo Album (“An old school photo album where almost every face on every page has been blacked out with sharpie marker. “Howling Winds High 45-46” can still be seen in bold and colorful letters on the front.”)

The Judge Perks: Ring around the Rosie (Enables one’s aura reading abilities; any kind of cue to a survivors location will now be accompanied by a directional key telling you which way the survivor ran. Ring around the rosie~, a pocket full of posies~, ashes, ashes, we all fall down~.”), A candle to light you to bed (Allows dull hex totems to be disguised as active hex totems. ““Oranges and lemons,” Say the bells of St. Clement's. “You owe me five farthings,” Say the bells of St. Martin's. “When will you pay me?” Say the bells at Old Bailey. “When I grow rich,” Say the bells at Shoreditch. “When will that be?” Say the bells of Stepney. “I do not know,” Says the great bell at Bow. Here comes a candle to light you to bed, and here comes a chopper to chop off your head! Chip chop chip chop the last man is dead!”), Catch a Tiger by the toe! (You become obsessed with one survivor; letting the survivor leave the trial grants bonus bloodpoints. Sacrificing or killing them will result in the regular amount of bloodpoints to be given. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, Catch a tiger by the toe. If he hollers, let him go, Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.”). Power: Frenzied guillotine (She spins around, her weapon thrown out in front of her. Upon spinning around three times, she will spin three times in the opposite direction before slamming the head of her weapon down on the ground to steady herself. Applies the dying state to any survivor hit during the attack, but will cause a stun effect on the player.) Home Map: Smoke Mirror Kingdom. Item to be sent there: Night themed Keychain (“A Keychain made of a crescent moon charm and small glass bottle filled with black glitter and some rainbow star shaped glitter. The cork and screw connecting the bottle to the rest of the keychain both appear to have been crazy glued together.”)

The Collection (Lillie, Dan, Lindsey, Ayden, Dakota, Dexter) Perks: Forgotten Memory (Disrupts Aura reading abilities. “This place is…Familiar…”), Friend or Foe (You gain an obsession for one survivor, for each aggressive action taken towards the obsession you gain a token. For each token vaulting and destruction speed is increased at the cost of one token. A maximum of five tokens is allowed. “I’m not letting you get away this time!”) , Self-Control (Applies a bleed-out timer to the hit survivor. Will not slow down a survivor, but a blood trail left by the hit survivor will last longer and become more noticeable. “We only hurt when needed. We’re not monsters, after all.”). Power: Paranormal Panic (Due to your understanding of the human psyche, you are able to unnerve people just by being in the same area as them. Periodically, a “chase” will begin with the obsession. “It’s not them, it’s us…”). Home Map: Albtraum Home for the Criminally troubled. Item to be sent there: Therapy Doll (“A small hand-made doll that looks strangely familiar. Its creator and owner are both unknown, but at this point, they are probably as active as the abandoned doll.”)

Kimberly Perks: Prima Donna (Allows the player to wake up other players by raking their nails across the other’s face. “I may be prissy, but my nails can cut deeper than any weapon.”), Freakout (Allows the player to break free of the killer’s grasp/to kick the killer while on the hook, effectively stunning the killer. “Okay, so I may have lost my temper, but like, that’s not that bad. Harm was intended and I retaliated. So what if he ended up in the hospital? Not like he wasn’t warned!”), Not a Princess (Makes it easier to find uncommon or greater item in a chest. “Bitch, I’m the QUEEN!”).

Bryan Perks: Once a Convict (Allows the player to temporarily injure the killer once per match. “Even jail has rules. You know that right?”), Blackout (If the Killer is carrying a survivor and gets hit with a pallet by the player using this perk, the stun duration lasts moderately longer than normal. “Oh God…What…What happened? What did I do?!”), Cell Farm (Expands the area of view for the player. “I remember these letters. They had pigeons and pigs and cows on them…I always wanted a farm.”).

Chad Perks: Keg Stand (Allows the player to vault through windows and over pallets at running speed while walking or sneaking. “I’ve done more acrobatic shit while stoned and drunk out of my mind!”), Do or Die (Being thrown into a trial with familiar faces fills you with a sense of determination, increasing the speed at which altruistic actions are performed. “My coach would say it’s do or die time before each game. So I’m going to say the same thing. Except, he meant it in a sarcastic sense, and I’m being serious.”), 2nd Amendment (Allows the player to throw a rock to stun the killer twice per match. “I may not have a real gun, but rocks work just as well mother fuckers!”).

Arder Perks: Hija de la luna/Daughter of the Moon (Makes the player completely silent when not running at the cost of movement speed. “If I stay still, they won’t see me.”), Gato del Purgatorio/Cat of Purgatory (Allows the player to retaliate against the killer. Only if the player is carrying an item and the killer is carrying a survivor will this be able to activate. Once the killer is hit, the player will drop their item and gain increased movement speed to make a quick getaway. “You aren’t my owner.”), Rogar/Pray (Allows the player to sacrifice themselves while on the hook, so long as two generators are active and at least one survivor other than themselves remains unhooked. “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep, since I’ll die while awake, my life is forever yours to take.”)

Dr. William Albtraum III Perks: Mystery Rail (Disrupts the killer’s aura reading abilities, and will very rarely trigger a false notification for the killer. “You’ll never find me, unless I want you to find me!”), Dark Science (Decreases the healing, sabotaging, and repairing speed of all other survivor in visual range while increasing your own speed. “The most important person here is me, the rest of you should be thankful I’m even pretending to help you.”), Living Automatons (Upon a failed skill check, another survivor’s location will also be made visible to the killer as well as your own. “If I go down, you’re all coming with me!”).

#Dead by Daylight #dbd #dbd ocs #dbd killer oc #dbd survivor oc #help me plz

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starcunning · 6 years

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This Beast That Rends Me: 19 Apr

This might be the segment where my influences are most clearly on display. I can see the fingerprints of Pat Cadigan, VNV Nation, and one of Kurze’s own damn OCs on this bit. So, that’s kind of neat.

Previously: Week One, Week Two Previously: 15 Apr, 16 Apr, 17 Apr, 18 Apr

She did not speak as they wound through the back passages of the palace, their unornamented walls clearly meant for screening servants from view. Emerging onto the terraces of the menagerie, Zenos slowed, his steps growing ponderous. He lifted his face toward the sun, and she remembered, without really meaning to, how long it had been since their final confrontation. He might have lived under sunlight in the months since, but never the open air. She felt a pang of sympathy, but closed the door on it in much the same way that she closed the door of the conservatory upon them both.

“And so the natural order of things is restored,” Zenos drawled. “Shut up,” Shasi huffed. Her tail twitched restlessly behind her, stalking her way toward the exedra. “I beg your pardon?” he said, taken aback. The wounded note in his voice stopped her dead.

She had assumed responsibility for him in more ways than one, Shasi reminded herself. And the first week of lockup was a delicate time. Any pretense of positive influence upon him required more fortitude of character from her.

“That’s … not what I meant,” she said after a moment. “Alright, it is, but saying it that way doesn’t help. I don’t want you to be glib about serious matters.” “Forgive me,” he said. “I suppose I find it easier to deal with my circumstances this way. I don’t expect that you’ll let me out of here again while I’m alive.” “We could ransom you,” Shasi said. “Your return in exchange for recognition of Ala Mhigan sovereignty.” “You could ransom me for four sestertii and my father would not pay it,” Zenos spat. “You may tell your commanders that, if you like.” Shasi sank to sit upon the recamier, and Zenos sat beside her, stiff with anger. “Perhaps not for his son,” she said. “But his heir, surely? A Legatus?” Zenos shook his head. “If one may rise by their own merit, then it stands to reason they should fall by it. No, I am to him some failed experiment; his unworthy get. It is not too late, of course, for him to produce another.” Shasi pursed her lips. “Then if your fate rests with the Eorzean Alliance, perhaps you should not antagonize its champions.” “I answered the questions you put to me. Do not blame me for your distaste.” “It is distasteful,” Shasi said. “Betimes we take distasteful measures to achieve our ends,” Zenos replied, “when success is all that matters, and success is not enough.” Shasi closed her eyes. “I understand what it is for your victories to be insufficient,” she said. “But success is not all that matters.” “Perhaps not in Eorzea, but the Empire—” “The Empire will have you no longer,” Shasi interrupted. “You just told me that. The strictures of that life cannot bind you now, or I cannot help you. One need not go to such extremes for the sake of feeling something.” “And what is it you feel now?” Zenos wondered. “If you wanted to know, you could look,” Shasi said.

He took her hand, and fixed her with his Resonant gaze, just for a moment. “Such uncertainty,” he said. “Such fear. I had not thought this was in you.” “I have had long practice at burying such things,” Shasi said, pursing her lips, looking into his eyes. They were blue again. “When we met in battle, you were dauntless. Doubtless, as I. I supposed then that you were empty, as I, too. That you cared for nothing but the fight, and this was how you could match me.” Shasi sighed. “I am … best in battle, I will allow that. When it has come to the point where I must fight, then I allow myself to be lost in it. Thancred made mention of it to me once, though he has no room to talk. The world beyond the reach of my sword falls away, and all becomes that moment of strife, of striving. But ever have I held at my heart the reasons I took up the blade in the first place. I am, at my heart, my mother’s child, and like her, a Crimson Duelist. We protect the weak, and we work for the common good. In battle, when that purpose sings in me clear and pure as starlight, I become what you have seen: unbreakable of spirit, luminous and limitless. It is hard to care for them, and easier to fight for them.”

She took a deep, steadying breath, shrinking back from his hand, suddenly shy of all she had revealed. “There was more. Beyond the doubt, beyond the frustration.” “Camaraderie,” he murmured. “Love, if you would have it so,” she agreed. “Lyse may be acting like a hypocrite and a fool, spending her time with Fordola, but she is as family to me, and I will forgive her, as she will forgive me for making a decision she did not wish to countenance.” “Family,” he scoffed. “Family is not blood,” Shasi said. “I was a girl of five summers when I left my father’s clowder, and a woman grown when I saw him again. X’khilo Nunh is no family to me, and I have no sisters in the Lynx tribe as I have found in Alisaie, for instance.” “And do they love you?” Zenos asked, voice grown quiet. “I … like to believe they do,” Shasi said. “It is not a thing much spoken of when action is required. I am … indispensable to them. It is enough.” Shasi clasped her hands before her, twisting a ring about her finger. She pressed her thumb to the signet’s unicorn device, and sighed.

“We had promised not to lie to one another,” Zenos replied, gently. “This is the uncertainty that one lives with, unless they are Echo-touched,” Shasi said. “And the one I lived with most of my life. The Mothercrystal tells me not what lies in their hearts. But I choose to believe it.” “Better to wonder about them than to look,” he said, “and know about yourself.” “Were it given to me to look, rather than be shown,” Shasi agreed. “In any case, it is the best I can manage, and so if they give no more thought to me than to the mug they take their morning coffee from each day, I would rather not know it.” “Is that how you see yourself?” Zenos wondered. “As fragile, as unremarkable and as easily replaceable as an old mug?” “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Shasi said. “Then hear me instead: I know what it is to be a collection of useful traits, and you are more than that to me. Strangle in the crib any uncertainties about that.” “If you care for me,” Shasi told him, “you can learn to care for others. To feel for them as you feel for me. If it is your goal to feel something, then that is the path.” “And if we are to remain equals—outside the praxis we have established,” he murmured, glancing down at his lap, “then I must have something to teach you, as well. You do not think much of your own benefit, do you?” “I am Ul’dahn,” she said with a small smile. “I don’t believe that you are. You yourself seem to waver on the subject. Here is the acid test, then: what was the last thing you did out of self-interest?” “Stood against the Bull of Ala Mhigo to spare your life,” Shasi said. “No, you’ve told too many others that was for my sake, or for the sake of the Alliance.” “I might have been lying,” she protested. “You might have been, but you were not. I have heard the whispers of your soul, as your comrades put it, and you have served those agendas alongside your own. So, before that, then what?”

Shasi frowned. “It must be Haurchefant, mustn’t it?” she mused. “When I had nowhere else to run and I was facing charges of regicide, I turned up on his doorstep, begging shelter of the only friend I had who had never asked a thing of me.” “Ah, that,” Zenos murmured. “We did wonder where you went, for a time. Well. That was for self-preservation, and how long ago now?” “Years,” Shasi said. “And was it merely you he protected?” “No,” she admitted; “what Scions there were, I sued for. It wasn’t hard. He would have done anything for me, until at last he did.” “So even then ’twas altruism that moved you. Perhaps you begin to see my point.” “Selfishness is a virtue?” Shasi asked, skeptical. “Think of it instead as a necessary indulgence,” he said, leaning in. She looked up at him, at once haughty and hopeful, and decided to take what he offered, her teeth grazing the swell of his lower lip. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.

#TBTRM #x'shasi #zenos yae galvus #wol/zenos #original content #starcunning writes #varis 'i'd sell you to satan for one corn chip' zos galvus #leoten slainstar #=P

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the-inkwell-variable · 4 years

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My first official fluff piece! Still kinda angsty, but it's cute - to a point lol

I'm so sorry. I cannot figure out how to add a read-more on this new formatting.

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Coming up with excuses to hang around the engine room was getting harder every day. Delivering messages for people was always an easy bet - the priest couldn't be bothered to crack his old knees on those stairs anyway - but the stupid crew on this stupid ship didn't send messages to the resident tinker very often.

She could always break stuff. Parvati was always down to fix it, and whenever someone brought her some broken trinket, she got the cutest expression on her face - a weird mix between excitement and exasperation. All of her shyness just completely vanished as she scolded them for being so careless with their things, revealing the true bullheaded nature behind her stammering, eager-to-please front.

But how long could she keep "accidentally" breaking her stuff before Parvati confiscated it, just like she did Felix's mechanical tossball action figure? Not much longer, that was for damn sure.

And she couldn't just... show up and linger. What excuse would she use for that? "It's too loud out there"? The engine room was way louder than the rest of the ship combined - even when Ellie and Vicar were screaming about philosophical bullshit in the cafeteria and Felix had his tossball match turned up to drown them out. Besides, she had soundproofed her bunk specifically to give herself a quiet space.

"I'm interested in mechanical engineering?" Ha! What a laugh. Every single person on the Unreliable knew that Nyoka didn't give two shits or a fuck less about fixing her own belongings, as long as she had the bits to pay someone else to do it.

The only option left was honesty, and let's face it: that wasn't her strong suit. She had a reputation as a badass (if constantly drunk) bounty hunter to maintain. Confessing that she enjoyed hanging out with the dorky engineer made her sound like a lovesick puppy - which she wasn't, for the fucking record. She didn't like Parvati like that. She just like getting the girl the ramble about her favorite topics, watching her face crinkle in concentration as she struggled with a complicated mechanical part, the way her face turned out a particularly off-color joke. There was no love there, and she'd sock anyone in the mouth that would even dare to suggest such a thing.

And yet, Nyoka still found herself lingering outside the cafeteria, sneaking furtive peaks at Parvati. Look at her. Nibbling that snack cake like she's a baby sprat. God, she's so freaking adorable... She turned away, her lip curling in a sneer of self-disgust as she took another drag from her flask. Even the rough burn of old whiskey couldn't drown the way her heart pounded against her chest.

God, what had this quiet mechanic from Edgewater done to her?

She didn't even realize that her feet had carried her into the room until she looked down and saw Parvati staring up at her. Her lips were smiling that tight-lipped smile that all polite folks gave when unexpectedly bumping into someone they barely know, but her eyes were confused, maybe even a little frightened. She hated that look. She wanted to grab the girl's shoulders and shake some common sense into her, to scream "Why are you afraid of me?! I'll kill everyone on the ship and myself if it would protect you!"

But she wasn't that dense. That would just scare the poor girl more, and the very thought of Parvati fearing her turned her stomach. Instead, Nyoka twisting her own lips into a smile and forced out, "Hey there, tinker. Didn't mean to scare you."

Parvati quickly shook her head in an obvious act of self-preservation. "Oh, not at all, Miss Nyoka! I was, um, just eating a quick snack. Got to stay fueled for the road!" She giggled awkwardly, and Nyoka wanted to wrap her arms around her and squish her tight - though whether it was to comfort her or to squeeze out the anxiety, even she couldn't say.

"With empty calories like that? You're going to burn through it and crash in an hour." She strolled to the refrigerator, forcing herself to tame her trademark stomp to a casual strut. "What's the thing Junlei says all the time? 'Treat your body like a machine - quality fuel and plenty of rest, or you'll end up rusting like an overworked engine.' I don't know anything about machines, but it sounds right. Here." She tossed a small container of food to the confused girl. "Cystipig stew. Homemade. It's something my - one of my old teammates used to make. The methane added a kick, but Boss says I'm not allowed to flood the kitchen with explosive gas." She scoffed as she dropped into the chair across the table. "Coward."

Parvati let out a soft laugh escape as she tentatively scooped out a spoonful of stew, and Nyoka's heart fluttered in her chest in a way that was surely heartburn and nothing else. "I can't imagine methane making anything taste better... Except maybe mantisaur. Is it true that people eat mantisaur on Monarch?"

"Only if they're really desperate. As in, 'I've already eaten the floorboards and my roommate' desperate."

Parvati's spoon hovered before her mouth as she shot Nyoka a part-horrified, part-rebuking glance. "You shouldn't joke about such horrible things. People suffer through terrible hardships - it's cruel to make fun of them."

The urge to retort was powerful. She wanted to snap back that, as someone who spent years as one of those people, she could say whatever she damn well pleased about the subject - that according to Holy Man DeSoto, making jokes about the subject was 'an ingrained coping mechanism that helped her deal with her trauma' or whatever. But - and she could not for the life of her understand why - she kept her mouth shut.

Parvati stiffened to brace herself for the inevitable backlash, but when none came, she relaxed just enough to taste the offered stew. Her eyebrows shot into her messy brow. "This is really good! You said that your former teammate made this?"

"She - created the recipe, yeah." Nyoka couldn't meet her gaze, not what the lump growing in her throat. "That's not important though. You really like it? Even without the methane?"

"It's delicious. It tastes like - oh, what was it dad used to say?" She scrunched her face as she wracked her brain, and the lump in Nyoka's throat dissolved like sugar. "Tastes like Grandma used to make. It's homey and warm, like curling up in a freshly made bed after a hard day of work." She took another bite and closed her eyes, chewing slowly as if to relish every bite. "Mm... I can see why you treasured that teammate. If her personality was anything like her food, she was a really amazing person. "

Nyoka shook her head as she gazed at Parvati, her lips twitching into a rare genuine smile. "God... You're so nice. I... I want to kiss you."

Parvati's eyes drifted open to focus on Nyoka's face. "What did you say?"

Nyoka stared back, frozen in place as her stomach clenched tightly. Oh God - what to do? She couldn't admit what she just said! But what to say?

Parvati sat up straight now, her head tilting ever-so-slightly. Her bottom lip jutted out to give her an adorably confused pout. "Nyoka?"

And now she was taking too long to respond - fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck - In a panic, Nyoka blurted out, "If you died, I wouldn't miss you!"

They both froze, staring at each other - Nyoka in horror, Parvati in confusion. As the gravity of her panic response settled upon them, Nyoka clenched her fists under the table. Her face burned with shame while Parvati's face paled beneath her dusky complexion. Tears began to collect in her amber eyes, and she turned her head down and away. "I - I see. I'm sorry for whatever I said that made you feel that way, Miss Nyoka." She pushed the chair back and stood up, her hands trembling at her side. "I'll just go."

"Parvati, no -" Nyoka reached out instinctively then snatched her hand back. "I didn't - that's not what I - God damn it!" Slamming her fists against the table, she threw her chair to the floor in her haste to get up and storm from the cafeteria. You're not running away, she assured herself as she locked the door to her sleeping pod, longing now more than ever for the ability to slam the door with a satisfying bang. You're taking a step back to collect yourself and figure out what you're going to say to fix this. She punched the door and spun to slide the ground, leaning against it and feeling, for the first time in her life, like a serial character. "Fucking hell, Nyoka..." she muttered as she pinched her brow between her fingers. "You're really in the shit this time. You and your fucking mouth... "

It took an hour and several gulps from her flask to calm her nerves and figure out exactly what she was going to say, but finally Nyoka was ready to tackle the hardest battle she'd ever had to face. Taking a deep breath (and another swig for courage), she opened her door and walked to the kitchen. It took every ounce of self-control she had to keep her body still. Treat this like capturing a raptidon, she encouraged with every step. Don't show fear. Never show fear. You're the baddest bitch on Monarch. They make fucking serials about your adventures. You can handle apologizing to a dorky girl from a hick town.

Despite her totally awesome pep talk, she still had to pause outside the cafeteria and rest her forehead on the cool door frame. You can do this. Deep breath. You know exactly what you're going to say. Just go in, stay on script, and get out. No ad-libbing. You want this to be another Angeline Graves situation? 'course not. All right. Countdown. 3. 2.... 1.

Inhaling deeply, Nyoka pushed open the door and stepped inside. "Parvati, I -"

She stopped short as a sob interrupted her and allowed her blurry eyes to take in the room. Parvati slumped over the table, sobbing into the crook of her arm. "I don't understand what I did! Why -hic- did she have to be so cruel? I thought we were bonding!"

"Hey, it's not your fault," Ellie soothed, rubbing comforting circles between Parvati's shoulders. "Nyoka is a terrible person. She's probably drunk again - she's a total ass when she's drunk. Just ignore her, okay Par?" She looked up and scowled when she saw Nyoka. "What do you want?"

Nyoka couldn't respond; her tongue felt like a dead fish between her teeth. She could only stare, stunned, at Parvati's shuttering form. The realization that she had done this - her cruel words, spat in a moment of sheer panic, had reduced her shy, cheerful crush to a complete emotional wreck - drove like a dagger into her heart.

Ellie was right. What kind of absolute scumbag would do something so awful to such an absolute angel?

"Hey, dipsomaniac. Do you fucking mind?" When she still didn't answer, Ellie raised her other hand to snap her fingers impatiently. "Christ, are you that drunk? The fuck do you want?"

Nyoka finally snapped out of it. "Nothin'," she muttered, lowering her gaze to the floor. "Don't want nothin'." She grabbed two bottles of purpleberry wine and shuffled back to her room, ignoring the muttered scoffs behind her. As soon as the door was securely locked, she sank into her soft cot and popped the first cork. "Here's to being the baddest bitch on Monarch," she whispered, the first salty tear trickling between her lips, "and the fucking worst person on the Unreliable.

Cheers."

#outer worlds #nyoka/parvati #fluff #one shot #outer worlds fic #talia answers

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