#so it's not quite the same as sharing a room with a twin/clone I imagine

[pushing500]

Wondering if they’ll be going bionic hand or POWER CLAW. do you have any Extra Prosthetic Mods installed? I think they all deserve a painstopper at lEAST.

Kwahu absolutely keeps Mechi awake at night, gushing about what replacement part would be the coolest. He doesn't need a power claw because he's mostly a long-range fighter, he doesn't need a drill arm or a field hand because we have mechanoids to do all the mining and gardening, so he'll probably end up with a regular bionic arm.

Still, it's fun to imagine all the awesome things he could end up with! Fun for Kwahu, that is. Mechi probably just wants to go to sleep (and might be a teeny bit jealous that there aren't as many options for leg replacements).

[starlightrows]

In The Eye Of The Beholder

Chapter 1

Next →

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: brief description and mildly graphic medical jargon about losing an eye and having a prosthetic implant placed

Summary: Shortly after the events of the Battle of Khorm, the Kaminoans don’t see the value in moving forward with treatment for Commander Wolffe... you, the GAR doctor on the Coruscant disagree

“I don’t remember asking for your goddamn opinion ambassador!” you shout up at the pale long necked Kaminoan, who’s been passively berating you in an attempt to get your patient taken off life support. Your communicator goes off loudly, and you feel no shame in looking at it instead of listening to the Kaminoan ambassadors retort.

“I’m sorry ambassador, but this discussion is over. The requisition for the cybernetic prosthesis has gone through and whether you like it or not, I am going to give that man a fighting chance. He didn’t lay down his life to be tossed out with the garbage. Now get out of my med bay,” your turn on your heel, and begin speaking into your comlink to arrange for the surgery to get underway immediately.

The procedure took nine grueling hours to fully clear out the wound, put in the prosthetic eye and reconstruct the damage to the soldier's facial structure. He stood a good chance of making a full recovery if the cybernetic innervations healed correctly. Now it was just a matter of letting him rest and wake up in his own time.

Most clone troopers in the GAR hospital didn’t get many visitors, most didn’t stay long enough to need visitors though the ones that lived through their ordeals usually recovered on transports back to the front line. But this trooper had a frequent visitor, a Jedi.

“He must be a very good commander for you to check in on him so often,” you comment one afternoon, standing by the door. The tall Kel Dor turned to face you.

“He is. A dutiful, loyal, hardworking commander. But that is not why I come to see him,” he says

“Why then? Certainly a Jedi Master and a General in the Grand Army of the Republic has many duties and responsibilities to see to,” you approach the bed with your tray of fresh wound dressings for his eye.

“The same reason you advocated for him when the Kaminoans wanted to let him die. He is a person. An individual. He is a good man. And he is a member of my team,” he explains while you work to remove the bandages that keep the stitches and cybernetics clean.

“You care for him,” you say with a smile, applying a layer of bacta gel to the stitches with a cotton bud.

“Indeed. I care for him, and all of his brothers that serve under my command. I am not the only one who worries after his health,” The jedi steps around you, trying not to be in the way.

“Well that makes two of us. I don’t even know him, but I want him to live. And not just to keep serving the republic,” you finish applying the bacta gel and begin rewrapping his head with clean bandages.

“You have a good heart doctor, and better view of the troopers than most. I think he’ll like you when he has the chance to formally meet you,” the jedi says

“I should hope so, he’ll have to come back fairly regularly for check ups and case study updates. He’s the first living being with this particular model of prosthesis. If he doesn’t like me, it’ll be a very unpleasant couple months until the study is complete,” you’ve finished wrapping his head, but find you can’t stop looking at his handsome face. True you’ve seen thousands exactly like his before, but right now it’s as if you’ve never seen anyone like him.

“I’ll be the first to admit, he’s stubborn and a bit gruff. But he’s not so bad once you get to know him, he’s fiercely protective and hates to feel weak. This will be a difficult recovery for him, but I have confidence in him. And in you doctor,” you tear your gaze away from the commander and smile at the jedi.

“Thank you master jedi,” you give him a small bow of your head out of respect.

“Plo,” he says “No need for such formalities,” you wonder briefly if he is smiling beneath his deoxygenator, it certainly sounds like it.

“And him? They don’t include their chosen names in their identification codes, just CC and CT numbers. I doubt he goes by his CC number day to day,” you pack away your equipment, unfortunately other patients are waiting, as much as you would love to stay and chat with the kind jedi master. Plo tracks your movements, he senses your rising anxieties about having to leave and attend to other matters in the hospital. Just as you’re about to leave without getting an answer, Plo speaks up.

“His name is Wolffe”

—

Much to your delight, Commander Wolffe does wake up within a few days. And he’s every bit the stubborn, defensive, and unwilling patient Master Plo promised he would be. He keeps getting up and trying to leave despite obviously being in immense physical pain, he’s already ripped his stitches once, and he’s down right refusing to let you get near him to check the wound and change the dressing.

“Commander Wolffe I am at my wits end here. I’m going to step out to allow you a visitor, and when I come back you will be laying on that bed, I am changing those dressings, you are taking your medication. Is that that clear?” You bark at him. He glares at you with his one amber eye but does not respond.

You push the door open and see Master Plo waiting on the other side.

“He’s all yours General, talk some sense into him if you can,” you toss the comment over your shoulder as you head down to the nurses station for a cup of water.

Master Plo enters the patient room, and finds Wolffe pacing against the far wall. His head snaps up, and he visibly struggles to bring the newcomer into his field of vision.

“General!” Wolffe says in surprise, straightening his posture

“Wolffe, your doctor tells me you’re refusing care,” Plo closes the door behind him.

“I should be out there,” Wolffe growls “Kriff… I shouldn’t even be alive right now. They’re keeping me alive to keep me in a box!”

Plo senses that there is something more, something he’s holding back, beyond wanting to be released from med bay.

“You know better than most that withholding the truth can be the determining factor between life and death,” Master Plo says carefully, approaching Wolffe with slow movements “but this truth is one that needs to be shared,”

Wolffe’s shoulders drop and what little color he’s managed to regain drains from his face. His knees give out and he sinks down onto the floor, tears stain both his good cheek and the bandage. Master Plo moves to join him on the floor.

“Good soldiers don’t lay around in hospital beds and weep over superficial pain,” Wolffe says weakly “Soldiers that don’t recover quickly… get decommissioned and sent back to Kamino in a box,”

“You are already recovering quickly, and your doctor can give you something for the pain so you can heal faster,” Plo says cooly “You are not being sent back to Kamino. Your doctor made sure of that,”

“What?” Wolffe was surprised to hear this, up to this point all of his conscious interactions with you had been rather gruff and none too friendly, he can’t imagine why you weren’t doing everything in your power to get him out of your hospital and out of your way.

“A Kaminoan ambassador came to assess treatment at this hospital and saw your condition, they incorrectly assumed that it would be more beneficial to cease all treatment. Your doctor, shall we say, violently disagreed,”

“Violently sir?”

“They were furious she went ahead with the surgery. Believe me, if someone had recorded it on a holo I would show it to you. It was quite the spectacle,” Master Plo laughs “She was adamant that you deserved a fighting chance,”

—

Later that evening after General Plo had left, you returned to Wolffe’s room with a tray of equipment to change his dressings, and medicine to help with the pain.

“Commander Wolffe if I come into this room and you throw something or scream at me, I will have you physically restrained,” you say sharply before fully entering the room. He’s sitting on the bed facing away from the door.

“I won’t yell,” he replies quietly without turning around, his tone is decidedly gentler than before. Whatever the General said to him must have done the trick. You approach him cautiously, rounding the end of his bed so you could get a good look at him. His face is set in a harsh grimace.

“Are you in pain?” You ask. He nods but doesn’t reply. “I am going to change those dressings and we’re gonna test out that new eye. I think with a good dose of anti inflammatory medication, and some intraocular movement you’ll feel better,”

He nods again, you drag a chair over and sit in front of him, he doesn’t bat your hand away when you move to unwrap his bandages. The silvery white cybernetic eye under the protective padding is downcast to match its whiskey gold twin. The stitches are finally healing up with the help of the bacta gel.

“Good news Commander I think you’re healed enough you won’t need a fresh bandage. Now let’s see how well this prosthesis works. Can you look at my nose?” You remove a penlight from your pocket and shine it in each of his eyes.

You run through a series of tests asking him to stare straight ahead at you, follow the light with his eyes, and tell you when he can or can’t see you moving the end of the pen out of his vision. Pressure and tightness on his left side subsides he continues moving his eye around.

“Your reactions look normal, how does it feel?” you click off your penlight and tuck it away.

“Hurts a bit less,” he quietly admits “I’m sorry about before,”

His change in demeanor is a surprise but a welcome one, far better than him trying to escape or aggressively get away from you. You give him a small cup with the anti inflammatory medicine in it, and second small cup with water. He takes the pills without complaint. You remain seated in front of him, to maintain this comfortable closeness.

“It’s okay. I know this isn’t easy,” you give him a sympathetic look.

“General Plo mentioned that you advocated for me, I would be dead if it wasn’t for you…” he falters “thank you,”

That familiar feeling you had before when he was still on life support crept back up on you. Heartbreak for how much he and his brothers have to sacrifice, longing to show him the appreciation he deserves, and something else, something you can’t place.

“This war won’t last forever. You deserve the chance to live in the freedom and peace you fight so hard to protect,”

He’s a bit stunned. Sure he’s heard a handful of politicians advocating for clone rights, but he’s never heard anyone say something like this. He can tell your words are genuine and heartfelt.

“Is there any way I can repay you, or thank you for sticking your neck out for me?” He asks “It takes guts to stand up to those soulless bastards,”

“Well ah… don’t thank me too fast. I know you didn’t exactly sign up for this but your prosthetic is a brand new top of the line prototype. By default you’re a participant in the longitudinal study of its effectiveness,” you admit sheepishly. He raises an eyebrow and peers at you. “On the positive side, you’ll get a bit more shore leave to come in for appointments,”

“Well that’s certainly nothing to complain about. My offer still stands, can I take you out as a thank you?”

You smile warmly and quirk up a brow to match him. “Take me out? Hm… I get off in a couple hours and you’re being discharged from med bay today, I’m game if you give me a chance to run home and ditch my scrubs,”

“It’s a deal,”

[a-sour-nectarine]

Summary:

The memories froze him. He didn't realize that Obi-Wan was calling his name, increasingly urgent, or that the water had reached his hips. It was cold, not as cold as it had been back on Kamino, but still just above freezing. He could almost imagine the crimson light of the clock, the sneering face of the trainer. The trainer hadn't been inherently cruel, but years of torturing little boys did something to the psyche.

So Cody suspected, at least.

Finally, a cry of "Cody!" woke him from his reverie. Obi-Wan was sobbing on the other side of the chamber, in a way Cody have never seen him cry, hand gripping his hair tightly enough to stretch the skin above his ear.

The water was up to his chest now, and rising fast, and the panic was still tight in his chest, but he made himself look Obi-Wan in the eyes. Before he did though, he caught his own gaze. His face was smooth in the crystal, no scar marring his temple. He absently wondered how anyone would be able to tell who he was, stuck in a child's body with no scar.

Notes:

Everyone shut up, I was supposed to post this last night, but I fell asleep. I am aware that it's Monday. Don't want to hear it.

This is my fourth and final submission for Codywan Week 2021! I really tried to do all seven days, but for my first ever event like this, I don't think I did too bad.

Prompt is an alt, Sith/Jedi Artifact Shenanigans.

"Um, commander?"

"What, Waxer?" Cody said irritably, blinking sleep out of his eyes. Day three in the remains of this stupid temple, and Cody, General Kenobi, Waxer, Boil, and six shinies, all yet to be named, had been grating on each other's nerves nonstop.

"You might want to... um... check in a mirror."

"Lieutenant, unless you have a mirror with you, that's not gonna happen."

"I just, um. Hold on. I'll take a picture, send it to your HUD."

Seconds later, said picture showed up in front of Cody's eyes. "Oh, Force."

A sleepy voice from the back of the room piped up. "Force what?"

Cody removed his helmet and shared a look with Waxer. That was not a brother, but it didn't quite sound like the General either, meaning....

"Hey, General, you might wanna come over here." Waxer shrugged at Cody as he called out. Sure enough, the figure making it's way over to them was not the General, or, at least, not the General they were used to. He looked like a cadet.

Well, so did Cody, so who was he to judge?

"Oh, Cody!" Obi-Wan exclaimed once he noticed the commander's state. He didn't seem to be able to stop the smile pulling at his mouth.

"Ah-ah, speak for yourself, General."

Obi-wan squinted down at his robes, which were the same as the ones he went to sleep in. He was drowning in them, looking only slightly less ridiculous than Cody did in his oversized armor. "Well, this is unfortunate."

Boil snorted. "Maybe one of you is small enough to fit through that hole now.

The General lit up. "Brilliant, Boil. Someone boost me up."

Boil snorted again, but followed him to the far wall. It had been pretty destroyed in the explosion, though still pretty effective in keeping the ten of them trapped. But maybe, now that Cody and Obi-Wan were smaller...

"Wait, wait, we aren't going to address the fact that we are– small? What caused it?"

Obi-Wan's lips quirked up in a smile, and Cody noticed how much more expressive he was when clean-shaven. "Well, I suspect it was caused by the artifact that also triggered the explosion that trapped us here. So, personally, I'd rather worry about it later." He held up the small slate of rock, carved with languages none of them could read.

Cody gaped for a second. That was pretty good thing to say if Obi-Wan wanted all the men to immediately lose faith in either himself or Cody. They had never disagreed in front of the troops, no matter how minor the issue. Equally unusual, he felt the urge to snap back. It was like he was four all over again— Oh. He was, wasn't he?

"Alright, but if you make it through, expect me to follow."

"I was hoping you'd say that." Obi-Wan chirped, grinning like he had just won some huge award.

Turned out that they both did fit, though Cody had to get shoved through and his shoulders got a little scraped up. But it was worth it for the first breath of fresh air outside.

Obi-Wan turned to him, eyes wide, and laughed. "I was honestly not positive that would work."

Cody couldn't help but join him in his laughter, breathless and a little manic, before a voice called out from inside the rubble.

"Will you two grow up and go find a damn signal?"

That was definitely Boil, no one else would speak like that to their COs, even if their COs were children. Cody couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, yeah, old man. We're going." Cody really was just content with losing all respect, wasn't he. Eh, he was four, he was allowed to be petulant. Besides, he doubted that the eight people still trapped under the debris would be telling anyone else. Not because he trusts them, hells no, but because the situation was almost as embarrassing for them as it was for him and Obi-Wan. After all, they were the ones whose shebs would be saved by children.

Obi-Wan held out his hand, and Cody took it without a second thought, not that he had time to. The Jedi took off the second he had a hold on Cody's fingers. They ran up to the closest hill they could find and surveyed the landscape. Nothing but red grass and blue flowers and crumbling old ruins as far as the eye could see. It was almost beautiful.

Until it started raining.

A couple of light drops of water was all the warning they got before the sky opened, absolutely soaking them immediately. Cody groaned and took off again–-still attached to Obi-Wan–-towards the nearest gray, stone building that looked like it still had a ceiling. As soon as they made it inside, they heaved out twin sighs of relief. The building wasn't completely waterproof, but it was good enough. They made their way into the middle of the floor, where there was the least amount of leakage, and Cody shook himself savagely. The rain outside was not slowing, in fact, it seemed to only get heavier as time went on. Lightning flashed every few seconds. The thunder was constant, but could barely be heard over the sound of the rain.

And then the walls came down.

Not "came down," as in they fell. "Came down," as in a separate set of walls dropped in from the soggy ceiling, completely (and separately) entombing Cody and the General. The walls were some kind of clear glass or crystal, faceted and almost completely transparent. The wall between them had gaps in it, sort of decoratively symmetrical.

"Uhh, Commander?"

"Yeah, sir, I noticed." Cody pounded on the wall, and it didn't even crack. Not glass, then. His enhanced strength would have taken care of glass that thick, child body or no.

In spite of the situation, Obi-Wan giggled, his voice echoing oddly from the other side of the crystal. "Cody, please don't call me "sir," it feels strange. I'm eleven."

"How can you possibly know how old you are?"

"No scar on my thumb. I rub it when I'm nervous, but right now there's nothing to rub."

"How do you know you aren't– I dunno, nine?"

"Just a guess, I suppose. I feel too tall to be nine. You, on the other hand, look younger than that."

Cody quickly crunched the numbers in his head. "S'pose that would make sense, if it's relative. I'm developmentally about 10 years younger than you. Twenty-four to thirty-five, eight to eleven."

"You're ignoring the fact that we are trapped."

"Yes, I am."

"That doesn't change the situation."

"I'm aware. But, as previously stated, I am eight years old. Four, actually. I'm trying not to panic. How are you calm?"

"Oh, I'm not. I'm actually fighting off a panic attack, if I am to be frank. This is almost exactly how Qui-Gon died, with me trapped on the other side of a ray shield. I just keep talking because it seems to distract me."

Cody cursed himself. He knew that, and it should have occurred to him that this was probably Obi-Wan's worst nightmare. He kicked his feet along the bottom of the wall, and noticed a particularly concerning fact. The crystal was growing. Not just randomly growing, it seemed to be specifically growing to cover the holes in the wall, creeping up and up. And, as if that wasn't worrisome enough, Cody's feet were wet. Not from the rain, but from the water seeping up from the floor. It was rapidly climbing higher, just a little below the level of growing crystal. The sound was rather pleasant, Cody noted, but he also noted that Obi-Wan's side of the little prison was completely dry.

The irony was not lost on him. And the irony was pretty kriffed up.

And it got worse once Obi-Wan noticed. The Jedi just let out a hysterical little laugh, and started pacing. "Wow, how wonderful."

"Hey, Ge–Obi-Wan, it's okay. It's okay. It's really slow."

Obi-Wan stopped pacing and stretched his hand through a hole at shoulder height, yet to be covered. Cody didn't even think before he grabbed the boy's (man's?) hand.

"It'll be okay," He repeated. "I'm fine."

The water was about knee high now, and the row of crystals at shoulder height were starting to close off. Cody pushed Obi-Wan's hand back just before the crystal could trap it there, and Obi-Wan let out a pained sound, pressing up against the wall. It hurt Cody. Hurt him more that being trapped, than the memories he had at this age, the memories that this water chamber was starting to dredge up.

Watching his brothers take their turns in the tank, none coming out conscious. "It's for your training," the longnecks had said. It felt like torture to Cody. Though, he supposed, maybe that was the point. It's hard for torture to frighten you if you have already experienced worse.

His turn now, he pulled on the breathing mask and stepped into the tank. It started filling up from the tubes in the sides, and the cold water shocked him a little. He watched the blinking, red light outside on the wall, until it counted up to three minutes. As soon as it hit three, he took a deep breath and shoved the mask off his face, and the clock started counting down again. Could he make it?

No. He woke up later in the medbay.

Like he always did.

The memories froze him. He didn't realize that Obi-Wan was calling his name, increasingly urgent, or that the water had reached his hips. It was cold, not as cold as it had been back on Kamino, but still just above freezing. He could almost imagine the crimson light of the clock, the sneering face of the trainer. The trainer hadn't been inherently cruel, but years of torturing little boys did something to the psyche.

So Cody suspected, at least.

Finally, a cry of "Cody!" woke him from his reverie. Obi-Wan was sobbing on the other side of the chamber, in a way Cody have never seen him cry, hand gripping his hair tightly enough to stretch the skin above his ear.

The water was up to his chest now, and rising fast, and the panic was still tight in his chest, but he made himself look Obi-Wan in the eyes. Before he did though, he caught his own gaze. His face was smooth in the crystal, no scar marring his temple. He absently wondered how anyone would be able to tell who he was, stuck in a child's body with no scar.

"It's alright," he said as the water carried him up, up, toward the top of the chamber. It wasn't nearly far enough away.

"I'll be fine," he called as he felt his head press against the ceiling. Too soon.

"I'm okay," he lied, then took a deep breath, right before the water covered his mouth and nose.

The clock ticked down, 2.59, 2.58, 2.57...

He sank back down, keeping his eyes open and on the crying boy leaning on the wall. Cody smiled and pressed his hand against the crystal.

1.46, 1.45, 1.44, 1.43...

Obi-Wan frantically pushed his own hand against Cody's through the wall. His other fist pounded at the crystal, to no avail. Cody's lungs were starting to burn.

1.03, 1.02, 1.01...

Cody's vision got darker, but he kept his gaze on Obi-Wan. Through the water, he looked distorted, but his eyes were unmistakable. Blue, bright with tears, creased with grief. Cody thought that it had been a while since he had seen those eyes smile. He hoped they would again, maybe after the Wars. Long after Cody was gone. He hoped this wouldn't break Obi-Wan beyond repair. His gaze really did go black now, and the clock in his memory blinked just twice more.

0.01, 0.00.

He felt a satisfied smile pull on his lips. He made it.

~~~~~~~~

Obi-Wan saw Cody's eyes close, and he cried out. "Cody! Stay with me!"

He couldn't ask that of him. It was selfish and impossible. But Obi-Wan felt so small, so helpless. It was just like when Qui-Gon had died, and he could do nothing. Nothing.

"Not nothing," a voice chided. "You can change it, this time."

A different voice swirled around him. "He must learn."

The first voice pressed in. "This will only break him. You are strong, child. Use it."

The soft voice was right. If he lost Cody right now, he would shatter. There would be no Obi-Wan Kenobi to put together, not like there had been last time. He would never come back. Maybe that was what the Code aimed to prevent when it forbade attachments. He had never been good at staying away from those he loved.

But there was no way to get to Cody.

"The power. It is yours to use, young one. Focus it."

"What power?!" He yelled, sounding like a child, even to his own ears. He was a child, actually. No response. Obi-Wan took a deep breath and placed his hands on the crystal wall, tears slipping down his cheeks as he closed his eyes. And he focused. It was like meditating, but more. He felt it. Power. Flowing through his very being. That was what the voice meant. It felt like an ocean, pushing and pulling at him, flowing through him. He waited, waited....

And pushed.

The crystal around him shattered. Shattered like Obi-Wan, because he surged forward and Cody was in his arms and he was him again, filling out his armor, scar across his temple but he was still and cold. Obi-Wan lowered Cody to the ground, brushing the shards of crystal away with his mind, and cried again. "Cody, Cody please. Wake up." He gulped in a breath of air. "Commander, wake up! That's and order!" And he used the power and he pushed the water out of Cody's lungs, but he still didn't stir. He heart had all but stopped, and he wasn't breathing. Obi-Wan used the power again and gathered the Force around Cody's lungs, breathing for him, in--out--in--out--in--

That's when Obi-Wan noticed the crystal in his hand. He would have dismissed it, thrown it with the rest of the shards of crystal littering the floor around him, if not for the glow.

"It is for him. This was as much his trial as it was yours."

The sense of desperation flooded him again, and he fought back tears. What use would Cody have for the crystal if he was dead? But he pressed it to the commander's chest anyway.

"Cody, don't leave. Please wake up. You have to wake up."

And then it was like Cody had heard him, because he coughed and shivered. Obi-Wan released his grip on the Force, because he didn't need it anymore, because Cody was breathing on his own. He squeezed his eyes shut and the scar on his temple stretched. Obi-Wan sobbed in relief and pressed a kiss to Cody's forehead, because he was alive, and they had passed whatever test they had been given, and they were alive.

And that would do for now. That would be enough until they had to go find help, until they had to get the squad out, until they found someone who could help.

Because Obi-Wan was not going to lose anyone today.

[jayz4dayz]

1 for Ririka and Itsuki.

Bet. I’ve been waiting to do a fic for them. And yES I’M AWARE THESE ARE DRABBLES, BUT 3 THOUSAND WORDS IS SHORT TO ME OKAY?!

(For real tho, the other “drabbles” won’t be nearly as long as this one. I just really loved writing this one.)

Anyway. Prompt: “Come over here and make me.”

Unmasked

There was a certain mysterious element to the Vice President’s porcelain mask, something Itsuki had always privately found herself to be drawn to. The eyes, jet black and ominous; oftentimes Itsuki feared she would drop dead if she stared into the mask’s eyes for too long. And then that smile, so menacing and eerie, never fated to one day frown. There was something so alluring yet sinister about the mask that made it difficult not to look away whenever the Vice President walked by or was in the same vicinity as the nail collector. 

And for the longest time, Itsuki had been so curious as to why the Vice President wore this mask. Surely no one would willingly wear it if they had nothing to hide; the damned thing in itself was rather creepy. Not to mention Ririka never removed it no matter where she was, which raised suspicion. 

What exactly was the Vice President hiding from everyone?

Rumors about why the Vice President wore her mask had been floating around the school since she first arrived. Some say she was hiding a hideous scar either from child abuse or from a wicked fight she might have gotten into. Others suspected she wore it because her face was malformed and ugly from a bad birth defect or otherwise and hid her true face so people wouldn’t be as afraid of her. 

Itsuki didn’t believe any of those rumors; she knew not to believe most of the crap the students at Hyakkaou would eagerly spread like a wildfire. She herself was a gossiper, but she only gossiped things she knew to be true. None of these rumors about the Vice President gave her reason to think they were true.

If anything, she speculated that the Vice President likely hid her face because she did the President’s dirty work and couldn’t risk having her face be known among the school population. It certainly made sense at least; no one knew what the Vice President did behind closed doors or what her general role in the school was. Even if Itsuki was right, it wasn’t like she was going to ever find out the truth for herself anyway. 

For a while at least, Itsuki tried to ignore her fascination with the mystery behind the infamous smiling mask. Yet when she saw the Vice President walking alone down a semi-empty corridor, she could not contain her curiosity and decided to follow her.

She had no probable cause to follow her; for all she knew the Vice President could have simply been going to the restroom or student council room. However, she showed no signs of doing so as she walked to a more empty and unused side of the campus. At this point, Itsuki just wanted to see what the Vice President was up to whether or not she would finally see her without her mask. 

Itsuki tried her best to not raise any suspicion, following the masked girl distantly. She noticed the Vice President’s pace seemed to slow a bit, causing Itsuki to fidget with anxiety. Thankfully, the Vice President never turned her head to see the one pursuing her and Itsuki quietly continued to follow her.

The Vice President stopped, pulling out a key card to unlock a room Itsuki had never seen nor been in before. Itsuki noticed that the door was still ever so slightly open, an invitation perhaps. Or a one way ticket to her demise. 

Swallowing back the fear and urge to turn and run away while she still had the chance to, Itsuki waited a minute before slowly approaching the door, creaking it open a little more so she could see what was going on within. She gasped slightly once she noticed the Vice President’s mask sitting on a small tea table near the door and searched to see the unmasked face of the platinum haired girl. 

All she saw was the back side of the Vice President, who no longer wore her school uniform, but still had on her skirt and her bra, appearing to be brushing out her long, smooth hair. Itsuki knew she should have shut the door and walked away to give her privacy, but her eyes were glued onto the Vice President’s semi-bare form. 

She was stunningly beautiful from behind; Itsuki could only imagine how she looked if she turned around. Itsuki felt like such a pervert for watching her like this, but she needed to know what she looked like from the front. Just a glimpse was all it would take to satisfy her. 

Itsuki continued to watch in silence, noticing something rather odd. The Vice President began to braid her hair. To her shock, she saw the Vice President braid her hair the exact same way the President did. Even more peculiarly, the Vice President also had the same exact Presidential blazer Kirari wore every day. The only reason why she would have this and braid her hair just like Kirari did and coincidentally have the same hair color as the President was because...

No. It couldn’t be. The President and the Vice President… were the same person?  

Itsuki rubbed her eyes and blinked rapidly, now taking a really good look at the girl inside the room who still had her back turned to the door. She was aware that the President was known for doing strange and out of the ordinary things, but to pose as the Vice President made no sense. Not to mention the Vice President and the President had been seen in the same location as each other, so obviously they had to have been two different people. 

Frustrated for not gaining any answers, Itsuki barged into the room and snatched the mask on the table. Naturally, the only other girl in the room yelped in surprise and turned to face Itsuki. Itsuki was just about to yell and confront her on why she was doing this and expose her for it, but all her words died in her throat the moment she saw those cerulean eyes and flustered cheeks.

This girl was not Kirari Momobami. It was impossible. Yet she shared the exact same face as Kirari. However, her expression alone proved she wasn’t the President, so how could this be? The thought of it made Itsuki’s head spin. 

“Y-you shouldn’t be here, Sumeragi!” the girl across the room squeaked, covering her top half with her dress shirt. 

“Who are you?” Itsuki questioned in a loud voice. “I know you’re not the President, but you look just like her.” 

“G-give me my mask,” the girl sputtered, shakily putting on her shirt and slowly buttoning it up. 

Itsuki snorted. “Ha! Not a chance. I want answers and I’m gonna get them. If you don’t comply, I’m gonna smash this thing to smithereens!” 

The younger girl was well aware she was playing with fire and her actions were honestly quite cruel, but she didn’t care. This was an opportunity unlike any other. The amount of blackmail she would now have on the student council may just be enough to get her re-hired in exchange for her to keep what she saw to herself. 

“No! Don’t!” The older girl shrieked, reaching out with her hand even though she couldn’t reach Itsuki. “Just… give it to me and we won’t have any problems! Give it to me right now!”

Itsuki wanted to laugh at how pathetic the Vice President sounded while trying to threaten her. Without her mask, she was a completely different person. Itsuki wasn’t intimidated by her in the slightest.

“You’re in no position to demand things from me,” Itsuki snickered. “Now talk.”

“I… I will explain, but first give me my mask,” the other girl complied. 

“Oh yeah? Come over here and make me,”  Itsuki challenged. 

Itsuki wouldn’t give up so willingly and she knew the Vice President wouldn’t either. Skittishly, the Vice President slowly approached the ginger. Itsuki began to study the features on the Vice President’s face as she came closer. She was convinced if the President were in the room that very moment and stood next to the Vice President, they would look like clone copies of each other. At this point, Itsuki wouldn’t have been shocked to discover the President did have a clone. 

Perhaps the only difference about the Vice President was her eyes. They were a bit brighter, more innocent and warm than Kirari’s cold and blank ones. 

“Please,” the Vice President bowed respectfully in front of Itsuki. “I’m not myself without it.” 

Itsuki sucked in a breath and blushed, not expecting her to do this. “F-fine, but you really better explain who you are and what’s going on!” 

Itsuki handed the mask to the Vice President, but to her surprise, the platinum haired girl did not place the mask back on. She instead clutched it to her chest protectively. 

“My name is Ririka Momobami. I am the older twin sister of the President,” Ririka explained, her voice calming down. 

Itsuki blinked at her. Finally, something made sense. The only thing that didn’t make any sense was that Ririka was the older sibling. As far as she knew, Kirari was the heir to the Momobami wealth and the Bami clan. It was strange considering the eldest child was traditionally and typically the one to inherit their family’s wealth and top positions. 

Regardless, Itsuki knew this bit of information was detrimental to obtain and now gave her a future advantage against the student council.

“The President has a twin. Of course she does,” Itsuki snickered. “Who else knows?” 

Ririka hesitated. “Only four people know. Sayaka Igarashi, Runa Yomozuki, my sister, and Mary Saotome.” 

Itsuki bristled at the mention of the blonde’s name. She had recently become friends with her and trusted her, so why would Mary keep something this important from her and the rest of their friend group?

“How did she find out?” Itsuki questioned.

“On accident much like you did. We sort of knocked into each other while walking down the halls a week ago,” Ririka explained. 

Well, Itsuki wouldn’t say this was an accident per say. Ririka didn’t need to know she was followed here, so Itsuki kept her mouth shut about that. 

“Ugh, now she has some explaining to do too,” Itsuki grumbled. “So, what’s up with the mask? I get why Kirari wouldn’t want people knowing she has a twin, but why bother with that creepy thing?”

“That’s… something I’m forbidden to reveal,” Ririka whispered darkly, her tone turning much like Kirari’s. 

“Okay then, why were you starting to braid your hair like the President?” Itsuki retorted.  

Ririka suddenly chuckled, the surprisingly comforting sound making Itsuki’s heart skip a beat. “Kirari likes to switch places with me sometimes. Usually it’s to gain information on other students quietly, but this time it was because she wanted to avoid English Literature and have me take the class in her place.” 

“So, you’ve been trading places with her for a while now and no one has ever found out?” Itsuki asked with wide eyes, now wondering how often she was talking to Ririka when she thought she was speaking to the President. 

“Well, someone very dear to Kirari’s heart figured out the two of us were switching places a while ago,” Ririka said softly. 

“Igarashi,” Itsuki mumbled under her breath. 

“You know about that?” Ririka asked in shock.

Itsuki scoffed. “Oh please, the whole school has suspected those two have been together since Sayaka was hired as Kirari’s little Secretary.” 

“I suppose you’re correct about that,” Ririka nodded in agreement. “Now, I hope you have no more questions, Sumeragi. I know you likely won’t grant this, but can you keep this interaction of ours private?”

Itsuki debated on that. On the one hand, she knew she could use this secret against Kirari to gain her position in the student council back, but was it fair to do such a thing to Ririka? The ginger hardly knew Ririka, but perhaps it would be better to have Ririka as an ally rather than an enemy. Revealing her secret would only burn bridges between them, something Itsuki didn’t want. At least right now. 

Still, Itsuki wanted to know if there was anything she could gain out of this.

“I don’t know, what’s in it for me?” Itsuki asked flatly, her intense ocean blue eyes searching for an answer from the taller girl.

“I…I have nothing to offer,” Ririka sighed in defeat. “Nothing you would want, at least.” 

Itsuki raised an intrigued brow at her. “Oh? What exactly do you have in mind?” 

“The only thing I can offer is monetary compensation, but why would you accept that seeing as how you’re the daughter of Japan’s wealthiest toy company?” Ririka murmured sadly. 

That was hardly something Itsuki would consider to be worth keeping her mouth shut over, but she knew Ririka was at the end of her rope and truly had nothing else to offer. And the more Itsuki found herself to be drowning in cerulean, the harder it became for her to want to continue her blackmailing. 

Deep in her heart, she questioned whether or not Ririka deserved this treatment from her. Perhaps she was just as much a slave to Kirari’s bidding just like the rest of the academy was. There was still too little she knew about Ririka to say what she was doing was justified or morally right. 

“Yeah, I don’t want your money,” Itsuki deadpanned. “Maybe you can offer a partnership instead?”

Ririka looked up at her with hope. “What are you saying? Do you wish to be my gambling partner like Saotome is?”

“No, nothing like that,” Itsuki shook her head, laughing at the idea of having Ririka following her around like some lost puppy like she did with Mary. Though the idea itself was still intriguing. 

“Then what are you suggesting?” Ririka asked in confusion.

“You know… a partnership,” Itsuki responded stupidly. 

Ririka’s cheeks turned bright pink. “Y-you mean like a romantic relationship?” 

Itsuki almost choked on the air as soon as those words left Ririka’s lips. She supposed the word ‘partnership’ was a rather broad term, but she still wasn’t expecting Ririka to suggest something like that. 

“No! God no! I-I mean not that you’re undesirable, you’re… you’re actually really pretty! I just…” Itsuki fumbled her words, turning redder by the second. 

“You think so?” Ririka asked shyly. 

Itsuki’s throat went dry. “W-well, yeah? It’s kinda hard to believe you’d hide such a beautiful face behind something so scary.”

“No one’s ever called me that before,” Ririka chuckled. 

“Yeah, I can see why,” Itsuki smirked, gesturing toward the mask Ririka still clutched to her chest. 

“You must think Kirari is beautiful if you think I am. Usually those sort of compliments are reserved for her anyway,” Ririka deflated at the realization. 

“I mean I guess, but she’s terrifying. You’re… different. A good kind of different,” Itsuki blushed. 

Ririka’s eyes searched Itsuki’s for any trace of deception, but found nothing. “Thank you, Sumeragi. As for this… partnership, I’m not opposed to it whatever it may be.” 

“Seriously?” Itsuki asked in disbelief. “What if it was something romantic out of curiosity?” 

Ririka sighed. “I’m not sure, I’d have to thoroughly know you better before deciding on something like that. Still, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“And why is that? I was kinda pushy and mean to you a few minutes ago,” Itsuki reminded her.

“You could have easily snatched my mask and ran off to tell the world about my true identity, yet you didn’t. Why is that?” Ririka shot back with a cute slight smile that melted Itsuki’s heart. 

“I don’t know, sheesh! I wanted answers I guess?” Itsuki said in defense. 

“I hope you got your answers,” Ririka smiled fully. 

“Not all of them,” Itsuki replied quickly. “I still have a lot of questions. Even more now if I’m being honest.”

Ririka nodded calmly. “Alright then. If you join me for tea tomorrow afternoon, I will try my best to answer them all.”

“W-wait, this… this won’t be a date, will it?” Itsuki stuttered.

“It’s whatever you wish it to be,” Ririka shrugged. “You want a partnership? Very well. As partners, however you may see it, we will have to get to know each other regardless. Am I wrong?”

Itsuki’s cheeks felt like they were on fire. How did it ever come to this? She was only trying to satisfy her curiosity. She never expected things to turn out the way they did. 

“You’re not wrong,” Itsuki mumbled shyly.

“Good. I will see you tomorrow then. You still have my contact on your phone from your time on the student council, yes?” Ririka asked.  

“Yeah,” Itsuki breathed out. “But remember, this is my compensation for keeping my mouth shut! Got it?” 

“I understand,” Ririka nodded. 

“Great,” Itsuki sighed. 

“Now, um. Can you let me finish changing into my clothes?” Ririka requested with a sheepish grin.

“Oh! Right! O-of course!” Itsuki exclaimed in embarrassment. 

“Thank you,” Ririka chuckled. “I will text you sometime later on where I’d like to meet for tea tomorrow. Have a good afternoon, Sumeragi-san.”

“You… you too, Momobami-san,” Itsuki said breathlessly. 

With that, Itsuki left the room and shut the door behind her. She stood in the empty hallway for several seconds, still processing what just happened. All this information was too much for her brain to process all at once. 

The smiling porcelain mask hid the President’s identical twin sister. Itsuki now apparently had a date with the President’s twin sister. And she was actually kind of looking forward to it. 

Though some of her questions were answered, they were replaced by dozens of new questions. What was the history behind Ririka’s mask? Why was Kirari the heir to the Momobami clan and not her? Why was she forced to wear the mask all the time? Why in god’s name was she okay with going on a ‘date’ with Itsuki? 

Itsuki sighed and ran a hand through her ginger hair. All the questions her mind was producing was overwhelming and to be blunt, she didn’t want to think about it. The only thing she wanted to think about was what she was going to wear and what color nail polish she was going to apply tonight for her ‘date’ with Ririka Momobami tomorrow. 

[evabellasworld]

Storm of the Republic

Chapter 22

AO3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22

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Summary:  When Tup murdered General Tiplar during a battle, Anakin Skywalker and Captain Rex dispatched Ahsoka, Fives, and Yara to solve the mystery that was plaguing the Clone Army. Meanwhile, Senator Padme Amidala contacted Commander Fox, Commander Tori, Riyo Chuchi, and Dipper to help her continue investigating the death of Palpatine, suspecting that Dooku was behind the evil plot. But when Dooku send an ISB agent to stop them, the team had to race against time to search for the truth, which could alter the course of the galaxy.

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Glancing at the fireside, Erina held her roasted grasshopper closer to the flames, hoping it would be fully cooked. With the cold air in her surroundings, she wrapped herself with her own hands, keeping herself warm.

“Are you alright, General Almarez-Guttierez?” Obi-Wan asked, noticing her staring at her food for a while. “You don’t seem to have an appetite.”

“I’m alright, General Kenobi,” she smiled at him. “It’s been a long day and I’m just exhausted, that’s all.”

“If you don’t mind me, I suggest you should get some rest. You’ll feel better the next day.”

“I appreciate your advice, but I think I’ll hit the sack a bit later. Besides, it’s no good sleeping with an empty stomach, anyway. Otherwise, I would end up craving a midnight snack.”

Raul tittered as he indulged in his small meal, before he spilled Erina’s habits. “My partner is rather rigid in her schedule. She must eat something before heading to bed,” he told him. “The last time she did that in college, she ended up eating a bowl of cereal.”

“You know how mama and abuela are,” Erina put her hands on his shoulder. “When it comes to mealtime, I either eat on time or starve to death.”

“Well, that seems harsh, but at least you’re consistent with your meals,” Obi-Wan chuckled as he slurped on his canteen. “For me, I have to convince my Padawan to have dinner every time, and he is quite a challenge to deal with.”

Raul raised his eyebrows. “Wait, General Skywalker was difficult for you to manage? Tell me about it.”

Obi-Wan smiled as he leaned against a tree bark, glancing at the stars in the wine-coloured sky. “It was difficult to train Anakin. He is impatient, brash, hot-headed, and occasionally stubborn. Teaching him something is just, well, to put it nicely, it gives me a headache most of the time.”

“Well, raising a child is never easy,” Erina shook her head. “They can make you stressed most of the time.”

“But it’s not all bad, though. Anakin was also a talented pilot, and he is quite tech-savvy with machines and gadgets, so it’s all good. Besides, I lost count on how many times he had to assist me in new tech and I’m forever grateful for his help.”

“General Skywalker is amazing,” Raul praised him. “I’ve seen him fly in his starships more than once, and it was breathtaking. Personally, flying is extremely difficult for me, but he made it look so easy. It’s like he’s done that for like, a millionth time, you know.”

“Anakin was a champion in the Mos Eisley Podracing when he was 10, and that race alone had won his freedom from slavery. Unfortunately, his mother had to stay behind and he missed her a lot.”

“That’s so sad,” Erina dropped her eyebrows. “I can’t imagine being separated from my familia that young. It must be painful for him to bear.”

“He also blamed himself for his mother’s death later in life,” Obi-Wan spoke with a heavy heart. “Anakin always wanted to see his mother again, but he never thought he would find her dead on Tatooine instead. Even now, he wished he could see her again for one last time.”

Raul wiped the tears from his eyes with his gloved hand, thinking about his family back home. “I miss my mother, too. She raised me all by herself after my father died in an accident. It’s been a while since I’ve visited her, and I can’t imagine the pain she had to go through for not being able to see her son again. I’m sorry, mama.”

“I miss my familia too,” cried Erina. “When I was fighting a war, I always thought I could visit them when it ended. But now, I don’t think I can see them again. I can’t believe I took everything for granted. If I’d known that was the last time I would see them, I would have spent every single minute with them.”

Obi-Wan may not know the feeling of being separated from family, but he understands the pain it brings them. “What do you both miss about your family?”

“I missed mama’s and abuela’s cooking. I also missed my papa making jokes with me, I missed my abuelo’s wonderful story, and I missed teasing all of my sisters. We were quite close, and we always helped each other out, no matter how dire the situation was.”

“I missed mama’s cooking too,” Raul spilled. “Mama and I weren’t really close to our extended family, so Erina’s family would always invite us for family events instead. They invited us for Eid-ul Fitr celebrations, while we invited them for Life Day. We may not be blood-related, but we were always there for each other, good and bad times.”

“Family doesn’t always have to be about blood,” the Jedi Master said, finishing his drink. “Sometimes, a family can comprise a middle-age man, a young adult man, a teenage girl, and two little girls. A family can also comprise a clone commander and a street child. They may not have the same lineage, but the bond between them is unbreakable.”

Erina curled her lips upwards as she gobbled up the whole grasshopper, before leaning her head on Raul’s shoulders. “So the first family you described, was it you and General Skywalker?”

“Yes, it was me, Anakin, Ahsoka, Lira, and Eva,” he gleamed, thinking about the twins. “Anakin was my first apprentice, while Eva was my second and last. She wasn’t as brash as Anakin, but she’s also quite stubborn. She likes to draw, play with her dolls, and read books too. Even though she became a Jedi Knight earlier, we were quite close as well. Anakin would complain about how I pamper Eva too much, but there’s nothing wrong with treating her once in a while.”

“What about Lira? What is she like?” Raul wondered, wrapping his arms around Erina.

“Lira was quite hyper and talkative,” he laughed. “She’s always asking so many questions to her master, but Vanya is always patiently answering every single one she knows. Even if she doesn’t know, she always tries her best to search for the answers with Lira, even if they take days. I don’t train her, but I always make sure she feels included as well.”

“This Vanya, is she your friend?”

“Yeah, we were close,” Obi-Wan nodded, holding back her tears. “We have been best friends since we were kids. She was quiet, but she’s also smart and perceptive. Vanya loved making things out of scraps too, just like Lira.”

“You know, I remember when she made a dollhouse out of a milk carton. There was a living room, a kitchen, a garden, and two bedrooms. I asked Vanya, what was the extra bedroom for? And guess what she told me?”

“What is it?” Erina asked.

“She told me that the extra bedroom was for me,” Obi-Wan sobbed, covering his face with immense guilt. “I wish I could see her again. She was my best friend, and I missed her so much. I can’t believe she’s gone.”

“I’m sorry that your friend is no longer with you,” Raul sympathised with the Jedi Master. “I know it’s heartbreaking losing your best friend, and I’m sad that you had to go through that.”

Obi-Wan could only smile as he looked up at the glowing moon, prompting him to get up. “We should rest now. It’s a long way to Mendes.”

“Goodnight, General Kenobi,” Raul wished him, as he and Erina headed inside their tent and laid closer with each other, sharing the warmth.

[puttingfingerstokeys]

Where is your love?

Dedicated, first and foremost, to @sxvethelastdance, whose dreams inspired this. I’ve been sitting on this for ages. It’s a crime that I’ve not posted it yet. 

Warring exes, Caged Heat (aged heat, tbh), ft. Thunder God Johnny Cage~

The atmosphere is somber, solemn, and respectful as they—the very few who are in attendance—gather themselves upon finely-carved chairs facing a beautifully peaceful, tree-filled grotto. In it, a small waterfall plays down the rocks and catches silvery white moonlight, sparkling like a thousand diamonds and pearls. Fire God Liu Kang, seated near the right side of the grotto, shifts in his seat and turns his glowing eyes upon his small pantheon. Fujin, Kung Lao, Kitana, and Johnny Cage all are seated in similar chairs. He makes eye contact with the latter, who gives an “okay” sign, more subtle than his usual finger guns, and then elbows Kung Lao, who is speaking quietly with Kitana. They both shift and turn their attention to Liu Kang, who makes meaningful eye contact with each. Fujin is the only one who is still facing forward, hardly having moved since his arrival.

 There are other seats and soon, they are filled—some faces are familiar, hauntingly so—and some are wholly new. Kung Lao sees this timeline’s version of his ancestor, rightful winner of several consecutive tournaments and still looking young and spry, like a man of twenty, though he is far older. Kitana sees her clone sister—or the woman who might have been her clone sister. Mileena Kahn has taken the throne from her treacherous “father” who, similar to Kitana’s recollection, stole Jerrod’s throne and wife, leaving Edenia a smoking husk; that Quan-Chi was her creator rather than Shang Tsung seems to have made little difference in appearance, though perhaps it has in personality. 

 Johnny watches for any hint of what his family might have become in this timeline and sees nothing, thinking it may be for the best, though he recognizes the uniforms of Scorpion and Sub-Zero, looking just as ornery as they do in his timeline. Some things never change. Fujin, whose gaze finally strays, catches sight of Rain, who, as the demigod son of Argus of Edenia, is acting as a diplomatic liaison between the restored realm and Outworld. Mileena Kahn is evidently a just ruler, which has surprised everyone, though they cannot show it. A few more trickle in and are strangers, but must have been involved, in some way, with the events which take place on this island once a generation.

 The mortals in attendance seem to want to move and pay respects to the pantheon sitting clustered in a small group, but the occasion is so unique, nobody seems to know what the protocol might be. Before anyone can make a social blunder, however, a flash of green light and the distinct whiff of fairly dark magic fills the grove. Liu’s gaze snaps forward first, though Fujin’s is not far behind. Only the gods seem disturbed by this, however, as the other guests remain silent and somber. Johnny feels a hand moving to where his mortal heart used to be. He curls his lip a little, but stows the urge to offer comment—a gargantuan effort—when a woman appears from the green stuff, her sharp, angular face set with glittering eyes that seem to catch the moon light and are framed by glossy, Stygian hair: Shang Liu Kang.

 “Too long has it been since I have had the pleasure of hosting so many venerable guests,” she said, lifting her arms. “I, and my parents, thank you for coming.”

 The applause is quiet and polite. She follows it with her eyes, almost gauging when it will subside before putting her hands up. She moves with the grace of a jungle cat, or a serpent, not unlike her “Baba”, Shang Tsung. With that same liquid grace, she gestures to the tiny, sparkling pool and, with an almost casual wave of her beautiful, bejeweled hand, summons from it a slab of what looks to be pure obsidian, shot through with lightning-bolt shapes of gold.

 “My Baba—Shang Tsung—led a strange life… but what I experienced, that for which I was fortunate to be present, was good,” she says, turning her wrist a little and then flicking her hand, as if freeing it from some tendril. The slab continues to float, unhindered. “He taught me magic, martial arts, fashion, how to get more of my food into my mouth than on my clothing—which may also count as fashion.”

 The laughter is quiet, but present, and genuine. She smiles and, rather than sinister, her smile is radiant, lighting up her entire face, her whole countenance. Her eyes sparkle with the well of tears that is hidden so well just behind them. She draws herself up and nods, as if reassuring herself that going on is acceptable, that it is the appropriate way and not just the only way. Her throat clicks audibly as she swallows and breathes deeply.

 “I am a scholar and an engineer, thanks to him,” Liu Kang continues, “and so much more than that.

 “You know, he left me this island… well, of course you know; many of you have attended the tournaments since I began hosting them. It is… a tremendous effort, I assure you, but worth every moment. Is there anything more beautiful than testing one’s might against warriors from other realms?”

 The question rolls out over the small crowd and there are murmurs of approval in the responses. She smiles. There is bloodlust in them yet, civil as even the gods in attendance pretend to be. There is purity in it, she thinks, pitting one against the other.

 “I am honored to carry that tradition and, as I am Edenian, you can be certain I will be here a while longer.” Again, there are murmurs of laughter and even a few smiles. She smiles as well, reassuring the attendees that it is quite all right to celebrate the life of someone who has passed, right alongside his beloved daughter.

 “Baba was not Edenian,” Liu Kang continues, “so his time was more limited, but I think we can all agree that a few dozen centuries is a long, fulfilling life for any mortal.” She does not pause for any response here, but moves on, her focus now upon some space behind them, as if looking into anyone’s eyes will bring tears to hers. This one thing, she cannot bear.

 “He always joked that it would be his luck to outlive my father—you can imagine his heartbreak when he was right.” Tenacity keeps her going and little else. “He wanted so desperately to follow father… he swore to me… ‘child,’ he said, ‘I cannot live this way, without him, so forgive me if I do not try’… and it broke my heart—which of course he could not bear, so he said just this one last thing, gave one single request: ‘Do not bury me with him; I was not worthy to share his space when he was alive and I will not become worthy in death’.”

 She turns, gesturing to the pool and then throws her arms out in a wide, gentle arc to indicate the trees. “This place,” she says, “is a replica of the grove in the foothills of a certain mountain range where he first met my father—and you, Lord Liu Kang, for whom I am named—and he had it constructed shortly after my father passed.”

 Shang Tsung had, of course, not needed a reminder of his lover’s radiance, but he had taken much time in this grove, sitting quietly and meditating, or speaking to Raiden, always holding one of his beautifully-worked, ornate hats, clutching it tightly and choking back tears. During these times, Liu Kang recalls, she would leave her father be, posting silent guards all about to ensure no disturbance. 

 She had once asked him why he did not go speak to Raiden directly; his resting place is within the palace itself, at the highest tower, far above even the sorcerer’s throne room and the chambers he had long shared with the god of thunder. He had not answered her. She supposes now that he had not needed to and that her asking was a strangely childish cruelty on her part, striking out at him because she would visit him alone, almost every day.

 “We grieve in different ways,” she continues, “and I think that coming here was his way of mourning my father’s passage and also celebrating his life—the life they made together. Father was enigmatic, but Baba always craved a puzzle, a new challenge and he remained fascinated until the day he… left me.” She swallows hard. “I believe the fascination has not ended.”

 She is no longer facing the small throng, instead watching the reflection of the slab and the moon in the dark pool whose stirred waters toss the images about like a kaleidoscope. She breathes deeply and lowers her head, sighing. The grove is still and quiet, reverential for several minutes and in that silence, Liu Kang feels the wind pick up around her, shaking the leaves of the trees. Distant wind chimes respond to the breeze and ring out softly. In a place that may not be this nexus of realms, but an echo of others, thunder rumbles, far off and quietly, barely a whisper. She hears it and only then do the tears begin to fall. Her shoulders shake and, though her jaw is tight, they sag and soon, her whole body feels as if it might collapse and she will join her beloved parents.

 All at once, however, there is a powerful arm about her shoulders. It buzzes strangely, almost familiarly, with a strong current just under the skin. Without thinking, she turns her body in toward the owner of that arm and allows him to envelop her. “Easy kiddo, I get it…” Johnny’s voice is soft, soothing, and fatherly. It carries none of the pontificating authority of his predecessor, but that is not what she needs right now anyway. She is sobbing against his shoulder, hard, her body at once tight with rage and frustration and threatening to go slack and collapse.

 “The mistress of the island would like a few minutes alone,” Lady Kitana instructs, standing from her seat and herding the attendees gently toward the path which will lead away from the grove and to the palace, where a feast has been prepared. No one seems to object. Mileena, bowing deeply, speaks to her twin from another timeline; it is like looking into a mirror, but with a few more teeth.

 “Outworld mourns his passage, Lady Kitana; please express my condolences to Mistress Shang.”

 “The Shirai-Ryu and Lin Kuei grieve with Mistress Shang, as well,” this world’s Sub-Zero adds. Johnny has not spent much time—any, if he is being honest—in this timeline, preferring to leave Liu Kang to his own devices here, helping where he is needed, but not really interfering, but he knows Kuai Liang’s voice when he hears it, even from a distance. Johnny finds himself wondering just how similar this timeline is to his own. He then begins to do the math and realizes why he has seen none of his family or people resembling them. This saddens him greatly, but now is not the time to consider his grief. 

 Kitana nods solemnly to both, her silence appearing deified, but really, she is shocked at this parallel “sister” and her mannerisms. If Mileena has noticed any kind of resemblance, she does not make it known, likely chalking it up to Quan-Chi’s hubris. She turns then and moves to join her small retinue further up the path. 

 Lord Liu Kang hesitates a moment before leaving to join the Great Kung Lao, his chosen, as well. Take care, Johnny, he thinks, this is the daughter of our greatest adversary. Since becoming keeper of time, the crown has never lain heavier. He now thinks of the realms in terms of epochs and eons, though among these, there are certain individuals and strokes of the cosmic brush which must be maintained.

 When the grove is silent but for the murmur of water and Liu Kang’s soft sobbing, Johnny relaxes a little. She is still crying on him, but he no longer feels all those eyes on the two of them. For being a man of the stage, accustomed to the limelight, he had not wanted to be observed comforting this woman in her time of mourning; something about it feels too intimate and he is uncomfortable with the idea that others might simply look on, even respectfully.

 “You,” she rasped hoarsely, sniffing like a child, “called me ‘kiddo’… But I am ancient, Lord Johnny Cage.”

 “I’ll never get used to that,” he says, responding in his usual, casual manner, not at all like a god of any kind. “Listen, when you get to be my age, everyone’s a kid, even people who aren’t kids—they’re kids. I don’t make the rules… and you’re a kid who just lost her dads.”

 “You are a god,” she reminds him, pulling away and, like a child once more, wiping her eyes with a fine silk sleeve. Only now does Johnny notice the beautiful damascened embroidery upon her clothing. “Do you not make the rules?”

 “The ah… universe makes its own rules, Liu Kang,” he says, the name sounding funny in his head, as he is not addressing the chesty monk-turned-god, but a beautiful, dragon-like woman with glittering, somehow serpent-like eyes, reddened from tears of grief. I’d kiss her if this was one of my movies—thank GOD it isn’t. “We’re just here to… y’know make sure people don’t break ‘em.”

 She nods, finding this acceptable an answer as she is bound to receive from a deity. He had been in attendance at her fathers’ wedding, and at Raiden’s funeral—she recalls him being quiet, but inconsolable the entire night—but she does not know Lord Johnny Cage well. She knows none of the gods terribly well—after all, how well can gods be known? Very well, if one asked my Baba, she reminds herself. She has her suspicions about her father and has had them for quite some time, though out of respect for them both, she has held her tongue. Now might be her only chance to ask, and she cannot even form the words.

 “I am glad you came,” she says, whispering hoarsely and turning toward the hovering monument to her Baba’s life. “And I have… a favor to ask of you.”

 “Shoot.”

 A brow rises, though she understands the parlance. She has heard people who speak like him, but not for some time. Liu Kang is no fool, noting everything about everyone upon her island. She has more suspicions than ever about the current pantheon, but at the moment, is too focused upon her grief to satisfy that curiosity either. It is a good thing for Johnny Cage, who would fold like a cheap suit, if pressed, thought one he currently wears is Versace.

 “I wish to carve something… an epitaph upon this stone—it is not that I lack the means, but…” She trails off, pausing to think. “I wanted it to be carved by my father’s hand—by his thunder.”

 It is Johnny’s turn to raise a brow, understanding, at least in part, that the unspoken words are: And I know you have it.

 “When I was a child, I would ask Baba where he kept all his love for Father—you know, as children do, I could not understand the abstract concept of love and when Baba said he had so much to give, I wondered how he might give it, and where he kept it in the meantime; I could not have been more than four.”

 Johnny envisioned a tiny Liu Kang—this one—running barefoot about the palace, clad in finery, her hair done up with gold and jewels, terrorizing the serving staff. He is hilariously close to the truth.

 “And what’d he tell you?” The idea of Shang Tsung loving something or someone other than his vicious ambition had been unconscionable to more than just Johnny Cage before the spectacular ceremony that had been the sorcerer’s wedding to the guy Johnny thought of as the “real” god of thunder. Seeing the way they looked at each other had utterly sold him and he never questioned again.

 “He said ‘my love is where the lightning strikes’,” says Liu Kang simply, and then gestures toward the tallest tower of the palace. Atop it, Johnny now notices a rod that must be at least ten feet high, topped with some ornament he cannot see. Once more, distant thunder rumbles and Johnny resists the urge to insist it is not him. Weather control is, of course, well within his abilities, but this one is simply whipping itself up naturally. Or supernaturally. Big guy, if you’re up there, you’re the most dramatic sonuvabitch I’ve ever met.

 “You want that on your rock here?” Johnny gestures toward the floating tablet. Liu Kang summons it closer, the glossy black and gold surface begging to be written upon. She nods.

 “Please,” she says, with no pleading in her voice. She has no doubt he will do it. The asking is a courtesy.

 “Y’know, I didn’t… really know your… err Shang Tsung well—but I knew Raiden,” he says, pressing one sparking finger to the stone. “He saw somethin’ in this guy, in his heart—he wasn’t stupid, Raiden… he was… honestly the best of us, I think. It’s… hard to believe he’s gone. That they’re both… Feels like the end of an era.” He presses the final curve of the ‘s’ at the end of the phrase and pushes the hovering tablet so that it faces Liu Kang. “How’sat?”

 Without thinking, Johnny stretches a canopy of electricity over their heads so they stay dry. Only Liu Kang’s hand upon his stops him completing it and it falters, the rain splattering them and soaking them instantly.

 The letters catch the moonlight, sparkling subtly, and perhaps glowing a bit, written by the finger of a god. She nods and sends it back to its position, hovering over the pool. As it reaches the center of the pond, thunder roars almost over their heads. Johnny and Liu Kang both look up and then toward the palace instinctively. A single bolt of lightning hits the rod at the top of the highest tower. My love is where the lightning strikes, Johnny thinks. A gale must have pushed the storm in quickly off the sea and it is now roiling over them. In the distance, a sheet of rain comes pelting toward the pair in the grove, making a mist of anything behind it.

 “My father once told me that life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, but finding contentment walking in the rain. Walk with me, Lord Johnny Cage, to the home of my fathers.” She offers her arm. He looks at her, meets her eyes, which, now that they have emerged from the dim haze of desolation and grief, are actually a beautiful hazel. He takes her arm and she smiles. “He chose well, I think.”

 “Wh?” Johnny’s stutter is so far from godlike, it makes her laugh. She shakes her head.

 “Your secret is safe with the Shang family,” Liu Kang assures him, moving forward and leading him. “Baba always knew what father was, perhaps what he had been… To Baba, he never wasn’t a god; certainly, he worshipped him as one.” The thunder murmurs overhead, almost like a distant, deep belly laugh. The rain disguises their tears as they join it, nodding and smiling. Their grief is real, palpable, directed this way and that, her for Shang Tsung, Johnny for the era this death represents, but united, at least, in this space and time.

 When the servants open the great doors for Lord Johnny Cage and Mistress Shang Liu Kang, both are soaked to the bone and smiling ear-to-ear. The other gods look between themselves in bafflement, but Lord Liu Kang meets Johnny’s eyes and with a minute nod, the new god of thunder reassures his friend that all is well—very well, indeed.

 Later that evening, they join each other on one of Shang Tsung’s many ornate balconies. Lord Liu Kang lifts one hand to the skies and Johnny mirrors it. The storm has passed and the heavens above are clear, save for the weird aurorae of many worlds clashing overhead. 

 “They will be remembered,” says Liu quietly, forming one half of a two-part constellation, his free hand clasping Johnny’s. As Johnny’s half of their work joins his, the former Hollywood superstar adds:

“In every realm.”

[meirimerens]

If you're accepting fandom questions could we have some elaboration about those mgs jupiter family alaskan daydreams please? Also your amazing TEW art got me into the series so thanks, I'm liking it a lot!!

first of all, i’m so deeply honored that my art could get you into a game, and also : god i’m fucking sorry lol

second of all

oh god oh fuck alaskan daydreams time

okay so long /, the read mores don’t work, you’re gonna have to bear with it

so tldr i have… EXTENSIVE imaginated stories about dave, hal and sunny living in a little remote cabin in alaska. 

BACKSTORY 

i’d imagine it’d come somewhere post-mgs2 even though sunny is already a bit grown so maybe like just disregard canon OR imagine a different timeline i don’t know, and it’s from a place where hal and dave don’t have anything to do after the mgs2 incidents (so no mgs4 and love of god NO accelerated aging i can’t deal with this), and there is this atmosphere of… “we’ve been sticking together for so long, i can’t see ourselves just parting ways (plus we have a kid to raise and i can’t imagine raising her alone) so how about we make the rest of our lives together” and dave is just like… “hey, we’ve been running all across the country, jumping from shitty motel to shitty motel to shittier apartments, and i have this cabin i once lived in, how about we just all move into it and re-inhabit it” and that’s just how it starts. 

THE CABIN

it’s a cabin i have extensively thought about (because i’m obsessed with cabins and being a hermit, so that helps). it’d be near the shore of the Twin Lakes, Alaska (taken from the canon fact that this is where snake lived pre-MGS1), so they’d live off-the-grid and in almost-self-sufficiency (they become more and more self-sufficient as time goes on and they make more adjustments to the cabin). 

i imagine it would look similar to Proenneke’s cabin (which incidentally is also near Twin Lakes), maybe on the other shore, all wood with a vegetation/moss roof + a slight porch/elevation to protect the entrance from a bit of the snow. it’d be surrounded by wooden little dog kennels/crates for the huskies (more on that later) similar to the ones in [this video] around the 0:59 min mark (warning for animal death/general stuff that goes on in a trapper’s lifestyle for the vid).

it here’s a floor plan of the cabin, not to proportions because i’m just shit at it :

(good luck reading that)

not pictured : when sunny was smaller (before the addition), her bed was like a little shelf just above the big bed (that hal and dave share) with little like “walls” so she doesn’t fall and a thick mattress, which was discarded when she got her new room.

later would be added an outdoor kitchen and a chicken coop (more on that…….. later)

EATING THERE

as i said, they’d first be living in semi-dependency : every ¾ weeks they’d have to go to Port Alsworth/Anchorage or somewhere else to stock tf up. Snake would fish (you can fish for subsistence if you’ve been living in Alaska for over a year according to law) and hunt (seems to be the same type of law when hunting for food, YES i’ve researched this, leave me alone) for food. As he has done odd jobs to afford his cabin, I imagine he’d have done crabbing, and would show up to help on crabbing boats from time to time to get some of them crabs.

later, I imagine they would get 4 rescue hens to get some of them fresh eggs. snake would build a chicken scoop from forest wood. 1 of the hens wouldn’t be able to make eggs because she was traumatized from the industry but they still took her in because she was close friends with the other hens and they didn’t want to separate them. 

I imagine Snake had been growing his own herbs in the kitchen but maybe they’d get a greenhouse ready.

they’d go foraging for berries, fruits and mushrooms according to the seasons and make a SHITTON of jams and preserves.

LIVING THERE

i imagine there would be a lot of solidarity with the surrounding populations. for exemple, Hal would help set up and manage online dictionaries for Iñupiat, Yup'ik or Alutiiq languages with the local communities, maybe help wire up some schools, things like that, and as thanks some people would go check on them and give em veggies or something.

THE DOGS :

Snake is getting them.

since we don’t know what happened to his huskies around mgs1, i suppose/guess they were at some time confiscated from him, so first, he’s get a lovely husky female from a shelter (i also have long thought about how he’d never go to a breeder and only adopt, because the whole “creature created with a man’s ideal in mind” hits a bit too close for him you feel) that would later be revealed as pregnant with like 5 puppies (it will come back later as relevant as promise). Then he’d do his best to regain contact with his huskies, maybe setting up a call on social media (THIS WILL BE PART OF A BRAIN ROTTING DEGENERACY I WILL EXPAND ON IN A MINUTE) to find them again. i imagined he would get to see one of his old huskies, who has well aged, who was adopted by some nice nice people. then said nice people, after his visit, insisting on him getting his husky back because “since you left she hasn’t been herself, she refused to eat. we think she misses you too much. we love her tons and it breaks our heart to let her go, but we think she would be so much happier by your side” type of deal, i’m fucking crying just thinking about it.

of course, once his team is back in shape, he’s run the Iditarod again. Hed keep contact with hal over walkietalkie during the race. hal would jump in his arms when he crosses the finish line, the pic would circulate in the news. it’d be cute i’m saying.

THE HENS :

as I said, adopted, in a little scoop snake built himself. they give eggs. sometimes they let them roam free and they bully hal when he peels vegetables (i’ve drawn smth about this). sunny feeds them in the mornings. things are good.

MORNING ROUTINE :

Snake wakes up around 5AM because he don’t need no sleep and goes to his huskies. feeds them. then make them run. when he gets back around 8 to 8:30, hal is still asleep. snake makes breakfast. the scents wake hal up. things are good.

SUNNY?

Sunny is taught by snake how to chop wood. he makes a tiny axe for her tiny hands. he and hal teach her how to swim in the Twin Lakes. the waters cold but she grows immune to it, strong and stronger. she learns how to differenciate which mushrooms and berries are edible.

they try to send her to school but she’s WAY too advanced and is bored to death. she stays at home. she’s outside all day or she learns astrophysics with Hal, who’s taking online classes in his free time. she learns some Athabaskan languages at a community class once in a while, she makes some friends.

HOW’S THE WEATHER

They go on hikes a lot. Often, and long ones. At first, sunny is in a little baby back carrier (i have drawn about this), then she walks just right. Alaska has gorgeous national parks, they explore them, year after year. They arrive in a town, exhausted and beat, they find a hotel room. It has a bathtub and warm water. Hal is OVERJOYED.

in the earliest hints of spring, snake takes them to Fairbanks through the beautiful alaskan railroad. they see the most beautiful and powerful of northern lights during the full season. hal and sunny can’t tear their eyes from the skies.

THIS IS WHERE I GO CRAZY GO STUPID.

ok…. so bear with me.

i mentioned an internet/social media presence.

it’s because in a deviation of this daydream, snake has a little youtube channel (and an instagram to go with it).

it’s not much. it’s really not, but hal has a few cameras and more that he finds and fixes.

it’s mostly lowkey, chill vlogs. stuff like 

“slow alaskan winter day (no talking)” 

“sprintime berry picking ( + jams recipes!)”

“alaskan summer outdoor fire cookout ( + wild moose and caribou near the lake)”

“denali national park hike (day 1)”

stuff that like you know. as well as some more…

“i ran the iditarod (and won)”

“we got hens (building a chicken scoop, meeting the rescue hens and more)”

“musher’s morning routine (i’d recommend you didn’t try this at home if you are not the genetically engineered clone of a super-soldier, for your sake)”

and as you guessed…

“so our rescue husky was pregnant… (i’m an idiot who didn’t notice, trip to the vet, building a whelping pen, whelping, bottlefeeding tiny pup + all the puppies’ pictures!)”

where dave would teach hal how to bottlefeed a puppy and you’d be able to hear hal’s “oh god oh god oh god oh god”s from out of frame as the camera focuses on dave’s hands holding his to have him perfectly cup the puppy in his palm and carry the bottle. this type of deal.

then follow-up videos of the puppies climbing the bed where hal is, playing on his gameboy. he chuckles nervously and then heartily when a puppy licks his face.

some winter days, the videos have snake bringing all the huskies in the small cabin. some of them sit calmly on the wide bed where hal studies his astrophysics.

and an instagram with wilderness pictures… all except a few taken by hal. some of snake posing in front of the snowed in cabin. some of warm drinks made on winter days. you know the deal.

and they’d have such a nice… positive… lowkey and easy-going comment section. dave would reply to a lot of them. 

he’d get quite a share of “hey man, i love your vids so much, thank you for posting this content. i was wondering, sorry if it’s a bit too personal, are you and your roommate dating? you two seem very close, but i don’t want to assume anything 😅 absolutely love your content either way, you’re the only youtuber i have notifs on” to which he’d reply “thank you so much, really appreciate it. and we’re not, we’ve just known each other for a long, long time. we’re aware two straight guys raising a child and living together isolated makes for a bit of confusion, but it’s totally platonic between us. thanks for sticking around.” but one day he uploads a vid that’s like 

“crabbing in juneau ! + life update (please read description)”

and the desc + the first 20 seconds of the vid is a text superimposed over embarassing pictures of hal and it reads “hey all / quick personal update, i’ll make it quick / otacon and i realized we loved each other / (as more than friends that is) / so if we seem just a bit closer in the videos from now on this is why / no idea how this is going to turn out for up / but yeah. if he seems a bit more affectionate it’s because we’re dating now, or something like that / and to everyone whom i told ‘it’s just strictly platonic between us’:  / well. ha ha. whoops. / anyway thank you for reading / enjoy the video” and all the comments would be like “that’s so dope i’m so happy for you” and other “tbf we saw that coming” and snake would smash that like button on these comments.

and he’d have a video of the whole iditarod race as taken from a camera on his jacket/on his sled… and he’d have videos of him filming hal film the landscape through the window of the train during their trip to fairbanks… and of hal and sunny in said train sharing a tangerine… and of him building a little axe for sunny…. and he’d always ask her if she is okay with being on camera, and when she’d say no he’d make sure she doesn’t appear on here or add a cute husky sticker on her face so she’s not seen.

just lowkey. chill. upbeat. simple life moments. he’d disappear off the internet for a month because he’s just enjoying the life and when he’d come back everyone would be very understanding and glad to see some cool pictures or vids. you know? just chilling. just chilling. just living.

one day before a “hiking through lake clark national park” he has the same little life update thing and it goes “hey / so otacon and i got married / sunny and aksinya [rescued pregant husky] were our flower girls / otacon cried / i cried / anyway, enjoy the video” over pictures of the tiny alaskan wedding. and it’s well.

[thecryptidofbravo]

Visiting Friends, Lessons Learned, Part 1

“Roving Amongst the Redwater”

Notes by Dr. Marta Carpools

At first glance the entrance to the Redwater Complex, or the Hold as the inhabitants call it, is particularly unassuming. A small outcrop of reddish brown stone that, if you happen to come close for some reason, opens into half again the width of a medium sized caravan with two people walking on either side, a bus could fit with some room to spare, though if driven very carefully. The descent is almost immediate, and it is only after you have entered the otherwise spacious tunnel that you notice it is not a natural occurrence, but one very cleverly built, with smaller tunnels splitting off like blood vessels up towards, you realize, the nearby farmland that is, apparently, not as abandoned as it seemed while passing. Of course, if you’ve made it this far, you know the land is very much inhabited.

Two kinds of people enter this territory nowadays: Ones who know the Redwater are here, and those who do not. Of the former, it is either friends of one of the Clan members, like ourselves (we being myself and my mentor, Dr. Metro), or those who heard the call of safety under the surface of the world. Of the more numerous latter it is, at best, on accident, at worst a band of ner-do-wells

Regardless of which you are, you will not be alone in this area for long, I have discovered. It was not half an hour after crossing the south-eastern border on the map (provided by friends within the Black Diamond Trading Company) that two figures trotted up to us from the west, in the direction of the lake north of what was once Bravo.

They moved with a predator’s grace, and I was reminded strongly of the gorehounds I’d seen at the Iron Harbor. I will blame their covered forms for my immediate instinct to depersonify them. I had once thought Wandering Eye’s layers of scarves and leather were impressive, but I realize now that is the look of a lascarian who has spent much time above the surface, and has, however little, adapted to the light. These figures instead wore the full regalia of people accustomed to darkness below ground and moonless nights, layers upon layers of cloth and metal covered leather, hung with hardened leather leaves and small metal trinkets I knew enough to recognize as Memories and Clan marks. It made them seem less living being and more a moving statue. It was impossible to tell build or shape looking at them, and if it weren’t for one being a head and shoulders shorter than the other I’d be inclined to believe they were twins, or some cloning experiment of the Darwins.

I have been interested in these people since learning about them from the aforementioned part-time resident of Bravo, Wandering Eye, or as I have learned since visiting him in the Sunless Garden, ‘Gangarani’eygr’. I will continue calling him Wandering Eye so as to avoid any accidental insult. As such, I hope to make as accurate a description as possible of what I witness within their territory.

With that in mind the two figures cut an impressive portrait, the afternoon sun throwing their shadows long over the sparse grass and rocky sand. They each carried a shield and spear, though the taller had a sword strung on his back, the shorter several knives strapped to her (I would learn later it was a woman) clothing.

The shields were small, by Bravo standards where one could easily be used as a door. Still, the ovals of wood and scrap metal was tall enough to cover shoulder to knee, nearly as tall as myself, though I am by my own admission, not the most gifted in height. Each was carved and painted in whorls and glyphs, their true meaning a mystery to me even now, though I might assume they were ownership marks, or religious in origin, if I knew less of their culture. I am told that while the Runner sect, as I have learned they belonged to, does not have as extensive a glyph system as the Keepers to which I have become marginally better acquainted, they still guard it closely and have many symbols they consider important.

The spears were 3-4feet of a dark hardwood, though I could not tell you the species (perhaps cedar? Oak? I am less well versed in flora than anatomy, unfortunately.). They seemed burnt black, yet glistened like volcanic glass. I am unsure what process is used to create this effect, but it is striking nonetheless. The tips were worked metal, a long blade with a flat front edge, and a concave back, still sharp. I have done my best to recreate the design below:

We stopped as they approached, and Metro made sure his weapons were secure on his belt before holding his own shield to the side and raising his other hand to show he meant no harm. I did the same, for all I lacked any weapons to secure. They showed no response while they closed. I felt the distinct impression they wouldn’t have reacted had we leveled any manner of defense against them. We were strangers here, they were the ones to be afraid of, though there were only two of them. It was then I remembered some old wisdom from back home:

‘For every lascarian above ground, you can be certain a half dozen lurk somewhere nearby, hidden, waiting for the signal to join their friend.’

I will admit I felt a shiver of trepidation at that thought, the kind I was learning well out here in the world beyond the Killscout compound. However hospitable Wandering Eye had seemed in town, I remembered well first meeting him, and the eyes of a hunter he hid behind his glasses. I felt the same look from these two, though perhaps it was my imagination at the time.

Within Bravo, where they were outnumbered by almost every other strain of post-humanity and generally well behaved, where stories of a pack overrunning a caravan and leaving only chewed bones behind were more joke than serious worry, I think it was easy to forget lascarians are some of the most dangerous creatures living in our shared world.

That fact was very clear to me as the two split and circled us, one to the back, and the other to the front. The shorter spoke in heavily accented speech and after a terse moment we were being escorted towards the north.

Our journey through the entrance described above was largely un-notable, beyond those things already noted. We crossed paths with a few other Redwater at the entrance, and I was surprised to see a slow and small, but steady stream of other strains moving about the side tunnels with lascarian guides to destinations unknown.

Following their lead, the taller of our escorts split down one of the tunnels while the shorter continued with us, stopping briefly at a small chamber to remove their outer layers and head-gear. It was here I discovered our escort was a lascarian woman named Whispering Storm, who was by happy coincidence an old friend of Wandering Eye, and had heard our names from him. Her partner, the silent Blood-of-Oaks, had returned to their patrol group while she sorted out getting us access to the Hold.

While I am not an expert on lascarian physiology to know whether the Redwater are typical of their strain, I admit surprise at the variance I was seeing among them.

Wandering Eye, for example, is a towering man with broad shoulders and midsection, bearing the long arms I have generally associated with such individuals of his strain. His bearded features are rounded, though they bear some of the raptor like qualities of the greater lascarian community, especially in the eyes and brow. His teeth of course are quite standard for the species. On the rare occasion I have seen his head uncovered I’ve noted his close cropped hair, and the slight downturned point of his ears, a trait I hadn’t associated with other lascarians and thought previously to be perhaps an individual mutation of some sort.

By contrast, Whispering Storm, though she too bore the eyes and ears of our mutual friend, was a more slender and well-muscled figure, of decidedly average height. Her hair was dark, a blue tinged black I’m not positive was natural, and long, though the sides of her head were shaved and its length was kept in thin, beaded braids gathered behind her head. I noticed a few Memory trinkets were woven in among them.

Both were of course paler than the fairest strain born above ground, almost corpselike, in fact. Whispering Storm, however, though she also bore the nearly familiar facial marks of a Redwater Clan member (three wavy lines over the right eye, a half circle and line over the left), was a study in culture all on her own; her skin, as she changed into what was apparently more common garb for meandering through the Hold, was seemingly covered in scarring, some of which appeared to be done intentionally, even artistically, and the ink of many tattoos, giving her the appearance of a sketchbook sewn into a living creature.

I’m unsure exactly how much of her skin was modified in such a way, but most of what I saw, and I saw much of it, seemed to be. The clothing she changed into was, I admit, more comfortable looking than my own (though I’ve never felt particularly burdened by them), however I felt some small desire to wrap a blanket around her lest she catch a cold. I suppose I should acknowledge she seemed wholly unaffected by the chill I’d begun feeling in the air as we moved further under the earth.

Metro and I exchanged glances, I noticed a slight blush on his cheeks and he averted his eyes from mine while she placed her knives around the form fitting, dark brown leather harness that made up a significant percentage of her new shirt, the rest consisting of a very soft looking linen that left her shoulders, back, and midriff bare. Her legwear had also been exchanged from the unbleached, durable fabric she’d worn above ground to a deep green pair of pants that looked to be of similar material as her upper garment, tucked down into the boots that seemed the one piece of clothing she had not replaced.

During this time I should not fail to mention she had attempted small talk with us, and I discovered she was quite friendly, especially compared to her partner. She kept up a dialogue with us, somewhat less effective than intended due to her unfamiliarity with the language, and continued asking questions and answering a few of our own even as we departed and continued on our way.

I cannot verify the distance from our changing room to the great Gate, but I can say it was many steps, and at least two surprisingly sharp turns. The side tunnels gradually became smaller, and fewer in number, and the main had ceased to appear like a natural opening of rock, instead squaring off at the corners, creating a smooth floor and ceiling. The torches that had lit the early stages of the journey became fewer and far between, casting our path in shadows. It was almost surprise when I realized the sounds of echoed footsteps had grown beyond our own, and I saw my first glimpse of the Gate.

It was a massive thing, a wall of stone and metal, reach across the fill width of the tunnel, and almost to the ceiling, several times my height at this point. I saw figures moving at the top, and in the center was a thick metal door, currently open, and seemingly built to slide sideways rather than inwards or outwards. Through it, and beyond, opened a cavern that stretched to the left into darkness, though I could make out the shapes of a few caravans, mostly pick-me-up trucks and iron horses, though at least one larger ride was present.

Passing through the Gate was a simple process, there being only a small crowd in the area, and most were waved through without issue. Whispering Storm called out to one of the guards in their native tongue, and he nodded, replying with an air of routine, and a few minutes later we found ourselves moving through the entry cavern, and on a stone road, moving deeper into the cavern, where small buildings seemed to grow out of the rock walls. Almost immediately two things became apparent:

One, this place was far larger than the current population could fill. There was no shortage of individuals, most lascarian, though I saw plenty other faces blended into the populous. Hundreds currently wander the underground center of Redwater culture by my estimate, and yet there seemed to be room for hundreds, several hundreds, more. For every building I saw signs of life (a candle in the window, polished tools on a workbench, or just the lack of feeling empty) there were three or more that I was surprised didn’t have boarded windows and an inch of dust on the steps.

Secondly, the city exuded a sense of age that made no sense for a home built within the last year, as I’d been told it had been. It wasn’t just the scope of the Hold, though it was in part the feeling a year could not have been long enough to build such a place. The subtle differences in certain blocks, how buildings grew together, and the shape of them, all felt as though I was walking through an oldcestor history book.

I stamped down on the unease I felt, as we roamed the streets behind Whispering Storm. I told myself I had no idea what determined lascarians in large numbers could accomplish. Wandering Eye had said once that the Holdlings outnumbered the other sects combined twice over, and their very purpose was to build and maintain their home. I still could not shake the feeling of age the place held, though it lessened somewhat as I began to see signs of scaffolding and incomplete buildings the more turns we took.

Perhaps it is only that they build their home out of the bones of the earth that causes the sensation.

My introspection was cut short as we rounded another street, and came to a junction of buildings that moved into a new part of the Hold. The ceiling was lower here, coming almost to the roofs of the buildings, where it did not replace them entirely. The streets began twisting on themselves, creating alleys and alcoves of dwellings. In the distance I was able to make out the shadows of three larger structures, the size of warehouses, just a bit taller than the rest of the buildings. They seemed identical from the vague look I could get, and faced different directions. The effect walking through this new area of the Hold left me feeling somewhat claustrophobic, I confess.

At asking what this place was, Whispering Storm answered we had entered “Ward-way-air-stad”, and at the looks on our faces I suppose, added “Keeper District” a second later.

I commented about the feel of the place, and she nodded, with a slight smile, replying that the Keepers like tunnels. I suppose that makes sense.

Lascarians like tunnels, everyone knows that.

Three turns and a small hill (there are hills underground, I have learned) passed us, and we entered a small lane. On our left was a slightly larger building that created the last turn, on our journey. It seemed empty but had the feel of a temporary state, as though it was normally inhabited. To our right small homes broke up the wall of the cavern.

Small lamps were hung from the places the buildings met in this part of town, and unlike the torches and candles of the earlier parts of the Hold, the light pulsed a pale blue color. I paused to examine one and discovered they weren’t lamps at all, but small, glass covered, stone planters full of mushrooms and moss from which the light came from. Small insects darted about the light-gardens, themselves bursting in tiny sparks of gold and green intermittently, sometimes taking flight towards one of the other holders.

At the end of the alley we found a surprisingly idyllic scene: a dwelling facing the street, built into the back wall of the cavern as it bent left. Between the building and the one closest to its right was a small elevated slab, from which a simple fountain emerged from the cavern rock. Over it was a wooden framework, hanging with more moss and mushrooms as grew in the lamps. Underneath it all, at a small table sat Wandering Eye, writing in a leather bound book.

He stood as we approached, and smiled. I almost didn’t recognize him uncovered by scarves or hat, I’m embarrassed to confess. He, too, was dressed simply and comfortably. In light brown trousers, and only a draping green vest, which fell to his knees but left his arms bare. It was the first time I’d seen him uncovered so, and I was surprised at the number of scars that mottled his skin, though unlike Whispering Storm, none of these seemed to be done intentionally. Most prominent was the burn on the inside of his left forearm, a wound I recognized from two weeks past, when we were in Bravo for the last time together.

Before Metro or myself could reach him, Whispering storm moved forward, and pulled his head down to hers, touching their foreheads together and whispering something that sounded like “essayo”, before promptly hitting his shoulder hard with the back of her hand and unleashing a stream of words in their language while gesturing at the aforementioned arm.

Wandering Eye took it in stride, and waved her off with a few quiet words and a gestured at the two of us. She mad a noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl, a sound I realized in that moment I’d heard often from our mutual friend, and marched into his home while he stepped up and pulled us both into a hug, motioning to the seats around the table he’d been sitting at, to join him.

We’d only just sat and begun to exchange pleasantries when Whispering Storm reappeared, throwing a bandage roll at her Clan-mate, and glaring at him as she took a seat at his side. He picked it up from where it had bounced off of him and made a quick hand gesture that she gave a satisfied nod at.

Marta Marta

-

“Marta?” Wandering Eye asked for the third time, with no little amount of amusement in his voice.

The small rover woman jerked her head up from where she’d been scribbling in her notebook, then looked back long enough to scratch out a line before closing it with a smile and turning her attention to the rest of the handful of individuals in the room.

“Yes! Sorry! I wanted to get everything written down before I forgot,” She blurted out.

He waved the apology aside, with a freshly wrapped arm. “Do you want tea?”

[imagine-loki]

Daughters of Mischief

TITLE:  Daughters of Mischief CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 6/? AUTHOR:  whisperriddle ORIGINAL IMAGINE:  Imagine being the adoptive mother to two powerful  (and mischievous) teenaged witches. One day you answer the door to meet a man (Loki) claiming to be the girls’ father, come to take them home with him. You all go to Asgard to sort out the twins’ custody, and at first Loki’s convinced they’d be better off with him because he doesn’t see how any adoptive parent could possibly love them as much as he could (thanks Odin), but the more he sees you interact with them the more he realises he was wrong. The more he sees how much you care about his daughters and how good a mother you are, the more he falls for you, until finally he asks to court you and, at the girls’ urging, you accept.

RATING:  Teen NOTES/WARNINGS:  None

Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5

The morning that the four of them were meant to go riding together, Loki called them to his rooms for breakfast. Both Jenny and Mary were incredibly excited for the day ahead of them, but Lilly was nervous. She felt like there was a knot in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know if it was a bad feeling, or a good one.

The last date Lilly had been on was before the girls were adopted, and even though there were plenty of men that tried to win Lilly’s affection, but she was never as interested in them as she was in Loki.

After getting past his grumpy side and enjoying dinner with him, she started to see him as someone she could get close to. Someone that she wanted in the role of “father” for her girls.

The girls were both dressed in riding clothes, nearly identical copies of one another. Mary had her black hair braided to the left, and Jenny had it braided to the right, that was the biggest indication of the difference between the two, and when Loki saw them, Lilly couldn’t help but laugh at his obvious confusion.

“I know it’s hard to tell the two apart,” Lilly said once the girls had settled in, “but they do have quite different mannerisms. You’ll learn to pick them up once you’ve known them for a while. For instance, Jenny’s the more talkative one. She also has her ears pierced. Mary refused to get her’s done when she was ten, and she never told me that she wanted to get them done. Also, Mary’s got the shorter hair.” 

Loki nodded, looking over to the girls as they poked around his sitting room. They admired the books, especially the ones that had traces of magic within them. As they sat down for breakfast, the two girls asked Loki about the trip they would be taking. 

“Where is it that we’re going exactly?” Jenny asked, taking a bite of what looked like oatmeal. Loki leaned forward and said, “There are trails in the woods around the western side of the palace. Odin would take Thor and myself riding when we were children, there are plenty of stops we can make along the way to the picnic area. Waterfalls, clearings, even some caves.” 

The girls’ eyes lit up at the thought of such an adventurous day ahead of them, and Lilly smiled. It was good to see the girls interacting positively with the man that was their father. 

Breakfast was short, the girls eager to get out onto their horses, and when the four of them got to the stables, they were equipped with their own horses. 

“Marilyn, Jennifer, meet your steeds, Eira and Dhyna. They’re sisters as well. Not twins, but very close in age. Their mother was a very good mare. My steed is Falhofner. And your mother will be riding Ylara.” 

The girls chose their respective horses, Mary picking Dyhna, who appeared to be a docile mare with brown spots adorning her tan coat. Jenny mounted Eira, who’s black coloring matched the girl’s hair. Loki gracefully, and Lilly wasn’t sure how, but smoothly mounted Falhofner while one of the stable boys had to help hoist Lilly onto Ylara, who she felt was anxious to get out of the stable. 

Loki led the girls out of the stable and towards the western side of the castle where a large gate was situated with guards standing beside it. When the two golden-armored men caught sight of Loki, they bowed their heads. 

“Your Highness.” One addressed Loki as the four of them passed through the now open gate into a lush green forest. 

It was easy for Lilly to see the path Loki mentioned, there was a clearly warn down path in the dirt, and Lilly didn’t have to direct Ylara very much to get her to follow the path, as if her mare had ridden it her entire life. And for all Lilly knew, perhaps she had. 

“Now, just up ahead there is a pond, it’s filled with fish and toads and other little creatures. A small stream flows to it and fills it when it’s low on water, but it’s where the stream leads to that’s one of the best parts of the trip today.” Loki told the girls as they passed a small opening where she could see a small, circular pond with cattails and lily pads covering a majority of it’s surface. 

They traveled a handful of minutes further down the trail before they came to a wider opening, the trees clearing out and giving way to the expansive sky and a very large cliff like structure. 

From the top of the cliff, there was a roaring waterfall which Lilly couldn’t help but admire for it’s otherworldly beauty. 

“My mother liked to come out here with me when I was learning to control my own magic. I’d like to bring you girls out here to do the same thing once you’ve gone through some of the basic lessons about your magic.” The girls led their horses closer to the water and Mary hopped off, walking to the water that formed at the base of the waterfall. 

The water looked very clear, perhaps the clearest water that Lilly had ever seen. Jenny joined her sister and inspected the water while Loki watched. He noted that Lilly wasn’t as sure on Ylara as the girls were on their horses, so he stayed beside her. 

He rounded Falhofner to Lilly’s left, pausing beside her to watch the girls. 

“They’re so happy here,” Lilly said as she watched the girls splash each other in the water, “I can only imagine their frustration at having to return to schooling, whether it’s here or back on Earth. We haven’t had this much family time in years.” 

Loki watched the girls, who had taken their boots off and were wading around in the ankle-deep water, picking up shining blue rocks from the magic of the waterfall. 

“Lilly,” Loki started, waiting until she looked at him to continue, “I am sorry for how I acted when you first arrived. I’m glad you’re here, actually. You know more about the twins than I do, and having you here to help me is incredibly helpful. For both me and the girls. And… I do realize they need their mother in their lives, so if you would, I’d like you to stay here, with us, while the girls finish their education here.” 

Lilly took a second to think. Staying with them, here, on an alien planet. No mortgage, no job. No parent teacher conferences. Lilly had a few friends, but they were mostly the parents of the girls that Mary and Jenny had sleepovers with. 

The girls. Lilly thought. They would have the make the decision to stay if they actually wanted to. And Lilly would follow with what they wanted. 

Loki could see that she was thinking quite hard about his request for her to stay and quite frankly, it worried him that she was going to say no. 

“If the girls say yes, then we’ll stay. But we’ll have to collect some of our things from the house. I’ll have to sell it-”

“You wouldn’t. We could keep up the house and maintain the payment for it. You could have it for a vacation home to return to if you felt homesick, or the girls wanted to go.” 

“Well… we’ll figure it out when the girls give us an answer.” Lilly said as the girls rejoined them on their horses. 

The rest of the trip was quick to the large clearing where there was already a blanket set up and food already set. The girls chatted with Loki about school back on Earth and Lilly smiled at the thought of the four of them staying to become some sort of family here. 

Once the four were finished with their picnic, they sat on the blanket and watched Loki perform some of his magic. He showed the girls his ability to clone himself, which Mary joked that they already had a clone of one another, so what’s the point. 

He showed them how he could transform into different animals, including a large black wolf that frightened Lilly a bit. He showed them the green magic that they had seen at the house, and how he could make shapes out of it and let it dance around with the wind. 

As the sun was about to set, the four of them mounted their horses and made their way back to the palace. Mary and Jenny decided it would be a good idea to race their horses back to the stable, so Lilly and Loki were left to head back together. 

“Thank you for today, Loki,” Lilly said as they approached the gates of the palace. “It made them happy.” 

“I’d do anything for them, and I know you would too,” they deserve happiness. 

They left their horses in the stable for the stable hands to clean and feed and Loki walked with Lilly back to her room in a comfortable silence. When they got to the door to the shared rooms, Loki took Lilly’s hand. 

“Thank you for trusting me with them, thank you for giving me a chance,” he brought her hand to his lips and placed a short kiss on the back of her hand. Lilly felt her face heat up and she smiled shyly at Loki. 

When he let go of her hand, Lilly leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. When she pulled back, she noticed his eyes were a bit wide, shocked that she would do something like kiss his cheek. 

“Good night, Loki,” Lilly said as she disappeared into the apartment. 

[frompixietodragon]

Daughters of Mischief (6/?)

Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5

The morning that the four of them were meant to go riding together, Loki called them to his rooms for breakfast. Both Jenny and Mary were incredibly excited for the day ahead of them, but Lilly was nervous. She felt like there was a knot in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know if it was a bad feeling, or a good one.

The last date Lilly had been on was before the girls were adopted, and even though there were plenty of men that tried to win Lilly’s affection, but she was never as interested in them as she was in Loki.

After getting past his grumpy side and enjoying dinner with him, she started to see him as someone she could get close to. Someone that she wanted in the role of “father” for her girls.

The girls were both dressed in riding clothes, nearly identical copies of one another. Mary had her black hair braided to the left, and Jenny had it braided to the right, that was the biggest indication of the difference between the two, and when Loki saw them, Lilly couldn’t help but laugh at his obvious confusion.

“I know it’s hard to tell the two apart,” Lilly said once the girls had settled in, “but they do have quite different mannerisms. You’ll learn to pick them up once you’ve known them for a while. For instance, Jenny’s the more talkative one. She also has her ears pierced. Mary refused to get her’s done when she was ten, and she never told me that she wanted to get them done. Also, Mary’s got the shorter hair.” 

Loki nodded, looking over to the girls as they poked around his sitting room. They admired the books, especially the ones that had traces of magic within them. As they sat down for breakfast, the two girls asked Loki about the trip they would be taking. 

“Where is it that we’re going exactly?” Jenny asked, taking a bite of what looked like oatmeal. Loki leaned forward and said, “There are trails in the woods around the western side of the palace. Odin would take Thor and myself riding when we were children, there are plenty of stops we can make along the way to the picnic area. Waterfalls, clearings, even some caves.” 

The girls’ eyes lit up at the thought of such an adventurous day ahead of them, and Lilly smiled. It was good to see the girls interacting positively with the man that was their father. 

Breakfast was short, the girls eager to get out onto their horses, and when the four of them got to the stables, they were equipped with their own horses. 

“Marilyn, Jennifer, meet your steeds, Eira and Dhyna. They’re sisters as well. Not twins, but very close in age. Their mother was a very good mare. My steed is Falhofner. And your mother will be riding Ylara.” 

The girls chose their respective horses, Mary picking Dyhna, who appeared to be a docile mare with brown spots adorning her tan coat. Jenny mounted Eira, who’s black coloring matched the girl’s hair. Loki gracefully, and Lilly wasn’t sure how, but smoothly mounted Falhofner while one of the stable boys had to help hoist Lilly onto Ylara, who she felt was anxious to get out of the stable. 

Loki led the girls out of the stable and towards the western side of the castle where a large gate was situated with guards standing beside it. When the two golden-armored men caught sight of Loki, they bowed their heads. 

“Your Highness.” One addressed Loki as the four of them passed through the now open gate into a lush green forest. 

It was easy for Lilly to see the path Loki mentioned, there was a clearly warn down path in the dirt, and Lilly didn’t have to direct Ylara very much to get her to follow the path, as if her mare had ridden it her entire life. And for all Lilly knew, perhaps she had. 

“Now, just up ahead there is a pond, it’s filled with fish and toads and other little creatures. A small stream flows to it and fills it when it’s low on water, but it’s where the stream leads to that’s one of the best parts of the trip today.” Loki told the girls as they passed a small opening where she could see a small, circular pond with cattails and lily pads covering a majority of it’s surface. 

They traveled a handful of minutes further down the trail before they came to a wider opening, the trees clearing out and giving way to the expansive sky and a very large cliff like structure. 

From the top of the cliff, there was a roaring waterfall which Lilly couldn’t help but admire for it’s otherworldly beauty. 

“My mother liked to come out here with me when I was learning to control my own magic. I’d like to bring you girls out here to do the same thing once you’ve gone through some of the basic lessons about your magic.” The girls led their horses closer to the water and Mary hopped off, walking to the water that formed at the base of the waterfall. 

The water looked very clear, perhaps the clearest water that Lilly had ever seen. Jenny joined her sister and inspected the water while Loki watched. He noted that Lilly wasn’t as sure on Ylara as the girls were on their horses, so he stayed beside her. 

He rounded Falhofner to Lilly’s left, pausing beside her to watch the girls. 

“They’re so happy here,” Lilly said as she watched the girls splash each other in the water, “I can only imagine their frustration at having to return to schooling, whether it’s here or back on Earth. We haven’t had this much family time in years.” 

Loki watched the girls, who had taken their boots off and were wading around in the ankle-deep water, picking up shining blue rocks from the magic of the waterfall. 

“Lilly,” Loki started, waiting until she looked at him to continue, “I am sorry for how I acted when you first arrived. I’m glad you’re here, actually. You know more about the twins than I do, and having you here to help me is incredibly helpful. For both me and the girls. And... I do realize they need their mother in their lives, so if you would, I’d like you to stay here, with us, while the girls finish their education here.” 

Lilly took a second to think. Staying with them, here, on an alien planet. No mortgage, no job. No parent teacher conferences. Lilly had a few friends, but they were mostly the parents of the girls that Mary and Jenny had sleepovers with. 

The girls. Lilly thought. They would have the make the decision to stay if they actually wanted to. And Lilly would follow with what they wanted. 

Loki could see that she was thinking quite hard about his request for her to stay and quite frankly, it worried him that she was going to say no. 

“If the girls say yes, then we’ll stay. But we’ll have to collect some of our things from the house. I’ll have to sell it-”

“You wouldn’t. We could keep up the house and maintain the payment for it. You could have it for a vacation home to return to if you felt homesick, or the girls wanted to go.” 

“Well... we’ll figure it out when the girls give us an answer.” Lilly said as the girls rejoined them on their horses. 

The rest of the trip was quick to the large clearing where there was already a blanket set up and food already set. The girls chatted with Loki about school back on Earth and Lilly smiled at the thought of the four of them staying to become some sort of family here. 

Once the four were finished with their picnic, they sat on the blanket and watched Loki perform some of his magic. He showed the girls his ability to clone himself, which Mary joked that they already had a clone of one another, so what’s the point. 

He showed them how he could transform into different animals, including a large black wolf that frightened Lilly a bit. He showed them the green magic that they had seen at the house, and how he could make shapes out of it and let it dance around with the wind. 

As the sun was about to set, the four of them mounted their horses and made their way back to the palace. Mary and Jenny decided it would be a good idea to race their horses back to the stable, so Lilly and Loki were left to head back together. 

“Thank you for today, Loki,” Lilly said as they approached the gates of the palace. “It made them happy.” 

“I’d do anything for them, and I know you would too,” they deserve happiness. 

They left their horses in the stable for the stable hands to clean and feed and Loki walked with Lilly back to her room in a comfortable silence. When they got to the door to the shared rooms, Loki took Lilly’s hand. 

“Thank you for trusting me with them, thank you for giving me a chance,” he brought her hand to his lips and placed a short kiss on the back of her hand. Lilly felt her face heat up and she smiled shyly at Loki. 

When he let go of her hand, Lilly leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. When she pulled back, she noticed his eyes were a bit wide, shocked that she would do something like kiss his cheek. 

“Good night, Loki,” Lilly said as she disappeared into the apartment. 

Tags:

@renner-hawkeyeloves    @sydthekid1518

[vex-bittys]

A Wound Too Deep: Swapfell x Underswap (Part 2: Hitting the Ground)

Sometimes monsters fall down, but they don’t always turn to dust. Sometimes they fall into a new Underground, a bright and safe Underground....

Contains: language

(Under the cut due to length)

Snow had blown over his unresponsive body; he cherished the thought of being buried next to Sans. Just a little bit longer. His fingers brushed the soft fabric of his brother’s scarf. I’m coming, m’Lord. His eyelights faded into nothingness, and his sockets slid closed. 

“Papyrus!” 

For a soul-wrenching moment, Mutt almost mistook the voice for his brother’s, but it didn’t quite match. It couldn’t be him anyway. His brother, his Master and Lord… he pushed the thoughts away. If he stayed here, kept his eyes closed, kept his mind blank, he could pretend it hadn’t happened, that it was just some sick and disturbing nightmare. If only that voice, that voice so very much like Sans’, would leave him in the snow to dust.

“Papyrus!”

Why? Why did this ghost of his brother’s voice have to torment him? It sounded like an echo from the past, a time when Sans had been young, innocent, vulnerable. He clawed his skull, trying to drive the images from his mind- walking hand in hand with his babybones brother, Sans winning his first fight, beaming proudly and still holding the blood-soaked bones he’d summoned, his unguarded face when Mutt had carried him, unconscious, off the battlefield after he’d secured his place in the Royal Guard, a gaping wound over his eye dripping hot red blood into the thirsty ground.

His sockets stung with fresh tears. Never again. He’d never see his brother again. I don’t want this. I don’t want this life anymore. Not without him. Just let me die.

“Papyrus! Get up,” the voice pleaded, now much closer ... pleaded, not commanded. This speaker did not possess his Lord’s sharp tone or easy confidence, yet Mutt could not disobey. He couldn’t disappoint Sans.

He staggered upright, then swayed on his feet. How long had he laid there? Time meant nothing to him. The only thing that meant anything to him was the red fabric clutched tightly in his fist, and the voice that had compelled him to move.

He couldn’t bear to turn his head and bring the owner of the voice into view. He couldn’t bear the thought of a fate as cruel as seeing some other monster standing there, imitating his lost brother, but he also couldn’t stop himself as a weak and dying spark of hope twisted his broken soul. He lifted his head.

Sans.

Mutt extended a shaking hand towards the round, unmarred face before him- so like, yet unlike, his Lord. Maybe... maybe his brother had come back. Maybe this softer, rounder form indicated some sort of rebirth, some sort of karmic reward for the hardships of their existence. The Sans in front of him looked like he’d never seen battle, never had to kill, to starve, to suffer. Unsharpened teeth, eyelights a pale blue with no shadows to haunt and darken them, and an immaculately clean and undamaged battle body provided a glimpse of what the Maleficent Sans’ life could have been. It couldn’t be real, yet a desperate hope pounded in his chest.

If only this strange doppelganger wasn’t staring at him in abject horror. Those bright, pale eyelights traveled down his body, stuttering to a stop at each shocking sight they encountered- his cracked mouth and gold tooth, his spiked leather collar, the blood on his shirt, the scars on his hands that hinted at more of the same, hidden by his clothing. It became abundantly obvious to Mutt that he had not been restored.

Recognition turned to doubt on the features of the smaller skeleton. No. No! This couldn’t be happening. He lurched forward, struggling to control the movements of his tired and broken body. Sans retreated, fear widening his sockets and replacing his doubtful expression. No, no, no!

“M’Lord,” Mutt rasped, the phrase harsh with emotion. He was so close to Sans, a different version of him, but still Sans, and the smaller skeleton looked ready to bolt. He couldn’t lose his Lord again. He couldn’t survive his brother abandoning him. He wobbled unsteadily as he took another step forward. His legs buckled, and he pitched forward into the snow. Forgive me, m’Lord.

“Papyrus!” His not-brother ran forward and knelt at his side. He wouldn’t dust alone. Sans was here, and that was enough. Mutt smiled contentedly as inky darkness swallowed the world around him.

A (future) Royal Guard always stood his ground, but that policy was easier said than done when Sans discovered a skeleton monster with a striking resemblance to his brother half-buried in the Snowdin forest. He managed to get the not-Papyrus on his feet, but he couldn’t help being a bit intimidated by the other monster’s appearance. Imagine his surprise when the big, bristling skeleton monster collapsed! Fortunately, the Magnificent Sans was there to spring into action!

Sans hefted the taller skeleton easily into his arms, but the scary newcomer was easily as tall as Papy. Red sneakers dragged twin furrows through the snow as Sans jogged along the path to Snowdin, searching for his brother. As usual, Papy was snoozing the work day away at one of the Snowdin sentry stations, but he woke up pretty quickly when Sans shouted for him. It probably helped that Sans shouted for him from about an inch away from his skull.

“Papy! Look what I found while I was recalibrating my puzzles!” Papyrus thought his jaw would drop right off of his face. Sans had just plopped a very dangerous looking skeleton monster onto the ledge of the sentry station- a skeleton monster that looked suspiciously familiar. He checked his unconscious double’s stats. Sure enough, this newcomer’s name was Papyrus. The presence of a similar-yet-different skeleton that shared his name confirmed a theory he’d explored long ago in the Lab.

“Sans, do you remember when I worked as a lab assistant, and I had that theory about alternate universes?” Sans nodded, but his starry eyelights never left the other Papyrus. The Magnificent Sans had overcome his fear and come to the conclusion that this new Papy was extremely cool. He must have so many friends! “Well, I think you may have found an alternate version of me.”

Sans’ eyes somehow managed to light up even more. “So I have two brothers now?” Papy actually felt put out by his little brother’s excitement. Wasn’t one brother enough?

“Maybe, but only if we get him back to town. Poor guy is frozen solid. I wonder what happened to him?”

“The Magnificent Sans is on the case!”

“Uh, maybe you should let me carry him, bro.”

“Our new brother has already been a good influence on you! Now that you’re taking on more responsibilities, you can finally pick up that sock!”

“Nah.”

“PAPYRUS!”

Mutt regained his awareness in stages. Something weighed him down, and his instincts had recovered enough to tell him that he was trapped.He surged forward, out from under the heavy blanket that covered him, off of the plush sofa, and onto the floor, smacking his cheekbone on a coffee table in the process. The pain didn’t even register. He had to be prepared, ready to fight, ready to defend his Lord. His Lord… Recent events started to resurface in his mind. He was too late to defend Sans. He’d already failed.

Mutt curled in on himself, gasping from the crushing pain of loss. The empty feeling of loneliness yawned widely in his chest. Why bother trying to escape? Maybe whoever had brought him here would kill him…

“Look, Papy, he’s awake!”

That voice… more memories emerged from the fog of his thoughts. That cherubic clone of his brother had saved him, had brought him here, but why? As much as the voice and appearance reminded him of his own brother, that Sans was not his Lord. When the unintentional imposter entered the room , he experienced a breathtaking punch of disappointment and a more subtle, more soothing sense of comfort. That slight comfort filled him with guilt. How could he ever feel relief again after what had happened? How could he be so disloyal to his Lord’s memory?

A tall, lanky skeleton followed the not-brother into the room. The new guy regarded Mutt with narrowed sockets and exuded a strong sense of mistrust. Mutt glared right back, but the sensation of seeing a monster so similar to himself unnerved him.

“The Magnificent Sans is also an excellent healer!” proclaimed the monster who shared a name and face with his own lost sibling. Mutt couldn’t meet the small skeleton’s eyes; he refused to be drawn to this Sans. His averted gaze left him unprepared for the light touch on his shoulder. He flinched. He couldn’t allow this other Sans to touch him. “You were holding onto this when you fell.” A small, delicate hand pressed something into his own palm. Mutt didn’t even need to see the item to know what it was. His Lord’s scarf.

The other-him stayed standing, leaning against a doorway that led to a kitchen, but Sans seated himself on the floor next to Mutt. Mutt couldn’t move away. He craved that nearness, even if this Sans was not quite his brother. He couldn’t help basking in a magical aura comparable to his Lord’s. It paled in comparison to something he could never have again, yet somehow it gave him a small measure of hope.

“Do you know how you got here?” asked the tall skeleton in a voice disconcertingly indiscernible from his own. Mutt shrugged. He didn’t know or care. Imperceptibly, he scooted closer to Sans. Papyrus was observant enough not to miss the movement.

“I think you might be from an alternate universe, a slightly more violent one if your appearance is anything to go by.” Mutt listened indifferently while Papyrus explained timeline theories and weak spots in the space-time continuum. Anxiety flooded Mutt’s soul. He wanted so desperately to be near this Sans, to feel the security of having someone resembling his Lord at his side again, but his Lord’s scarf sat in his lap like a bright red accusation. You let me die, and now you’re replacing me? Mutt shifted away from the other Sans.

“You can’t both be Papyrus! So what are we going to call you?” Sans’ carefree tones intruded on Mutt’s private dialogue. He answered automatically.

“M’Lord calls me Mutt.”

The other two skeletons exchanged uncomfortable glances but said nothing. They’d noticed the collar, and now a nickname like Mutt? What kind of universe had this poor monster escaped from?

“Are you hungry? The Magnificent Sans is also an amazing chef!” Sans shouted into the awkward silence. Mutt just shook his head. Sans’ face fell and fresh loathing washed over Mutt. Now he’d hurt this gentle Sans’ feelings. He couldn’t eat someone else’s cooking though. That was one of his Lord’s rules.

“Maybe he wants to be left alone?” his own twin suggested. “You can sleep on our couch if you want, buddy pal friendo.” Mutt nodded absently. Sans and Papyrus excused themselves and went upstairs, and Mutt pulled the blanket from the couch and wrapped it around himself. He carefully tucked his brother’s scarf into the neck of his shirt and settled in to wait for morning. He didn’t want to sleep; he was afraid to dream.

It made no difference. Scenes replayed over and over in his mind- the gleam of crimson eyes, the flash of the knife, his brother falling to his knees in the snow. He clutched his skull, trying to make the images stop. His sanity slipped. His brother’s skull, sliding free of his neck. Why wouldn’t it stop. The human’s eerie smile. He couldn’t stand it anymore! Dust... so much dust, caking everything, choking him.

Panicked, Mutt scrambled up the stairs on all fours, aiming unerringly for Sans’ room. He knocked frantically on the door, whimpering, and it opened to reveal a very tired Sans in baby blue pajamas. He swiped at his socket with one hand. Mutt shuffled nervously. He had a sudden urge to run away, but Sans waved him inside.

“Do you need something?” he asked politely. Once again, he noted that Mutt wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“My brother...” Mutt gulped air, trying to form words, and Sans waited patiently for him to continue. “A human... a human killed him. I couldn’t... stop them...” Sans opened his arms, welcoming Mutt to him, but the parody of his brother’s dying pose twisted his soul further.

“I don’t know how to be without him...”

Papyrus heard the skeleton called Mutt knocking on his little brother’s door. No way would he let an unknown monster be alone with Sans; his bro was way too trusting. He slipped into Sans’ room only to find Mutt on top of Sans, pinning him to the bed. He heard muffled noises, and magic flared to life in his left eye.

PING!

“Get the fuck off of my brother!” Papyrus snarled, slamming Mutt into the wall.

“Wait!” protested Sans, but Papyrus ignored him. Mutt had covered his face, and Papyrus savagely ripped his hands away so he could look the filthy brother fucker in the socket when he dusted him.

Papyrus’ rage dissipated immediately. Mutt sobbed brokenly, his weakness exposed to both of them. The raw pain on the mirror image of his face filled Papyrus with regret. Sans pushed him out of the way and wrapped his arms around the distraught monster.

“It’s ok-” Sans paused. He couldn’t bring himself to refer to this grief-stricken skeleton as Mutt. -”Pup.” Much better.

“Mutt.” insisted Mutt. His Lord would have expected it of him.

Falling | Hitting the Ground (you are here) | Rise | History Repeats

INDEX