#the blue thing is like a wispy imagination thing he swats away at to stop thinking about it

[random-kido]

Krk Ss

🤝

spiraling the second they leave each other alone for too long

[cave-of-the-owl-witch]

Changes

((Under a cut for length.))

The air in the meeting hall was tense and confused as the gathered volunteers murmured amongst themselves. The crowd was small this year; not as small as it had been in years prior, but it still left a lot to be desired. Hushed conversations echoed off the candlelit walls and diffused into the room as ambient whispers as the gathered Elves waited for Topaz and Ivy to enter. What was going on? The First of December had come and past more than a week ago...

Jubilee was among the crowd this year, just as she had been every year for over a century. She was joined by Anise and Melody as usual, but not by Harmony; she was too busy for Wish Duty, ever since she had signed on with the Tin Soldiers. It was a choice the whole family had resented at first, but over these past few years, she had proven herself capable and they had all come to terms with it. Still, it hadn’t felt quite right showing up for Wish Duty without her.

Of course, nothing about this year felt quite right, as the minutes ticked by and the Elders responsible for the raffle-- and this meeting-- still hadn’t appeared. Jubilee’s ears twitched as she rocked on her heels, casting anxious glances at her sisters. They returned hers with equally anxious glances of their own. She frowned, chewing at her lip, and faced forward again. A few more minutes crawled by at subsonic speed.

“If I leave, will you guys fill me in later?” Melody muttered. Anise half-heartedly swatted her arm with the sleeve of her sweater.

“Stop,” she chided. Mel stuck her tongue out at her like a child.

Finally, two ancient-looking Elves took the stage: a round-faced little man with sparkling eyes, wispy white hair, and deep smile lines-- Elder Topaz-- and a sharp-looking woman with horn-rimmed glasses, and steely grey hair done up in a bun-- Elder Ivy. The two shared a final glance with each other as the rest of the Elves went silent.

“Good evening, everyone,” Ivy began, her voice magically amplified, “and thank you all for coming out tonight. We’re sure you have a lot of questions regarding this year’s Wish Duty.”

There was a murmur of consensus throughout the crowd, and Jubilee’s ears twitched again in anticipation.

“Now, I know you’ve all been waiting too long already, but we’re going to have to ask you to hold those questions until we’ve finished.”

The crowd seemed less enthused about this.

“The thing is,” Topaz added, “Ivy an’ I have been talkin’, an’ we’ve decided to make a few changes to how things’re done. The first o’ which bein’-- now don’t lose yer heads when I say this-- the first o’ which bein’ that we’re doin’ away with the raffle.”

Despite his plea, there was a chorus of gasps and muttered words of disbelief. Ivy gave him a look.

“Yes, we’re doing away with the raffle. But Wish Duty is not going anywhere. We’ve decided to test out a new system this year.”

The crowd shifted, almost seeming to breathe a collective sigh of relief.

“See, volunteer numbers have been... up an’ down the last few years, an’ sometimes that means there’s only a few dozen raffle winners. Imagine, a few dozen out of the thousands o’ folks on the Nice List! So we got to thinkin’, why don’t we try an’ grant wishes for as many o’ them as possible? Instead of spendin’ the whole month with one person in one place, why not wander around an’ see how many people we can help?”

“So what we’ve done is put together an R&D team to create these.” As she spoke, Ivy produced a smooth, white stone, roughly the size and shape of a snowball. “I trust that many of you have seen the humans’ Christmas specials, yes? And the one in particular where The Boss keeps an eye on things with a magic snowball? This here is more or less the same concept. It was hewn from the depths of the Ice Caves and enchanted several times over, allowing us to check a person’s Naughty or Nice status in real time. We have one here for each of you, and if things go well this year, we’ll have even more in supply to meet future demand!”

Another chorus of gasps and murmurs swept through the crowd, this time very much awed and excited. Ivy shot Topaz a somewhat smug smile, which he returned with a genuine grin.

“That’s why this year’s announcement took so long; we needed to make sure there were enough o’ these to go around!” he chuckled. “Can’t very well send ye out with no way o’ knowin’ what’s what!”

“Indeed, we can’t have you out there under prepared. Which brings me to our next point: this should probably go without saying, but don’t forget to travel with a glamour up. Even with the Snowballs, accidents and misunderstandings can still happen. Use your best judgement.”

The crowd sobered a little, and there were some murmurs of agreement.

“Good. Now we will open the floor to questions.”

A dozen hands shot up, Jubilee’s included. Topaz pointed to a squat, stocky Elf near the front. “Yes, Flint?”

“So... we can go anywhere? Just pick a point on the map and start from there?”

“Well... yes. That’s pretty much what we’re sayin’. Places ye’ve been, places ye haven’t been-- just don’t everybody bunch up in the same places. I don’t wanna hear that all o’ ye wound up in New York City or the Bahamas. In fact, it may be best if no one stays in the same place for too long.”

A few hands went down.

“Next question,” Ivy called. “How about... Lingonberry.”

A doe-eyed Elf beside Anise asked, “Um... are we allowed to visit people we’ve granted wishes for before? That is, um.... if maybe we know they could still use the help...?”

“I don’t see why not. Although, I would still suggest that priority goes to somebody new. It’s fine if you want to visit and catch up, and help out where you know help is needed, but if you linger too long, that sort of defeats the purpose of the new model.”

A few more hands went down.

“Yes, Briar?” Ivy said, gesturing to a lanky Elf with glasses.

“How exactly do the Snowballs work?”

“I’m glad you asked. We were actually going show you after questions. That is... if that’s all of them?”

All the other hands went down, Jubilee’s included.

“Splendid! That’s just lovely!” Topaz said with a wiggle, rubbing his hands together.

Ivy motioned to someone backstage, and a cart full of Snowballs was wheeled out. “If you’ll all line up stage left, we’ll pass these out and show you how to attune them.”

None of the volunteers needed to be told twice, and with a bit of fumbling and disorganization, eventually managed to form a line along the wall. Like many of the Eves around them, the three sisters were all grinning from ear to ear.

“Har’s going to be so jealous! First place I’m headed is Brazil, then maybe Hawai’i, Costa Rica-- oh! Christmas Island! How funny would it be to spend Christmas on sunny Christmas Island?” Melody tittered, earning another-- albeit more playful-- swat from Anise.

“Maybe she’ll finally take time off and come back to Wish Duty next year,” Anise laughed. “Especially if you bring her a souvenir.”

“I’ll send her a postcard from everywhere I go,” she replied wickedly.

Jubilee laughed at the both of them and rolled her eyes. “What about you, An? Anywhere jumping out at you immediately?”

“Yeah, anywhere special you want to take Lingonberry?” Mel chimed in. Anise flushed bright pink.

“Hush! She’s right there, you know,” she protested, gesturing a couple spots ahead of them. “Just because you’re excited is no reason to be a brat.”

“Why not? I bet Jubi’s off to that Wasteland place to see Copernicus!”

“Hey!”

“Well, aren’t you?”

“...Probably, at some point,” Jubilee begrudgingly admitted. Melody crossed her arms in satisfaction. “Not immediately, though. I was thinking I might go someplace new first.”

“Like where?” Anise pressed.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just close my eyes and point to a place at random.”

“That could be fun. I was thinking maybe Finland or Canada; someplace that’s still close enough to the Arctic Circle that it’s mostly dark, that way even as it gets closer to the new moon, I’ll still have a bit of extra power left.”

“Oh, good thinking!”

“You sure you don’t want to go to Paris? It is for lovers, you know,” Mel teased.

“I swear, if you don’t cut it out I’m going to dunk you like a cookie.” This earned Anise a few giggles from the both of them.

As they chatted away, the line grew shorter and shorter, and they came closer and closer to the stage. Jubilee watched Topaz and Ivy walk her sisters through the attunement, practically wiggling with excitement as she waited for her turn. The process went quickly, and soon she was standing in front of Topaz, her new Snowball in her hand.

“Now, what yer goin’ to want to do, Jubilee, is hold it in both hands. It’s dead simple, really; just let your magic flow from one hand, through the Snowball, an’ into the other. Once it glows with yer colour, that’s it! You’ll be able to activate it just by holding it up an’ thinkin’ about the person in question.”

She did as he instructed, and found he was right; it was dead simple. It only took a moment for the Snowball to glow her signature light blue.

“That’s it! Wonderful! Now go on an’ head out; there’s only fifteen days left until Christmas, y’know!”

“Will do! Thanks!” she called over her shoulder as she went to join her sisters. Just as she got there, Melody vanished ins a swirl of violet sparks. Before she could ask, Anise explained,

“I told her that you guys can go on ahead. I’ll let everyone else know what’s up.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Of course! Besides, I do want to talk to Lingon and see about meeting up once or twice.”

“Right, gotcha,” Jubi laughed. “Tell everyone I said bye, then.”

“Will do.”

And with that, Jubilee did as she said she was going to. She closed her eyes, pointed to a spot on the map that hung on the wall, and that was where she headed.

[jrazillashadowworks]

Footsteps into Anarchy: Chapter Two

Warning: Blood. Gore. Dark themes. 

Brinderburg (Center of District Three)

“Day 40,” the young woman rattled off to herself, her soft, professional tone bouncing off the walls of her office doubling as a lab.

Staring at the computer, she scrolled through full pages, lined with countless, names, labeled by sector, with illnesses bracketed beside them and picture profiles of each civilian. Tilting her head, she fixed her oval glasses, a pulsing headache setting deep in her right temple, not aided by the insanely bright florescent lighting of the room and the glare from the screen. She wished there was a dim function like in her home…before it was destroyed.

It was pointless to think about that now. With the world in its current state, it’s lucky she was even alive. Noting her daily assigned sector, along with taking a fully downloaded electronic registry device, she prepared the meds she would need to give out; antibiotics and the like, and added it to her leather, side pouch adorned with the bright red-cross, held together by Velcro.

Opening the top drawer of her black topped desk, she looked over the rectangular screened device set in a protected layer of rubber and steel, her savior in any situation. Gripping it, she tapped once for the screen to blaze to life, the entire compound intricately detailed, flashing before her eyes into a map of colored shapes and lines. Pushing it in the pocket of her long, white, lab coat, she took one last glance into the drawer.

Sitting in the dark recesses, at the very back, was a locked box, she hesitated for a moment, staring intently, running through whether she would need to carry it. The past few days she had left it there, but for some reason, today there was a lingering unease in her stomach. Maybe just a symptom of the headache, she wondered. Clicking her tongue, and with little time to dawdle, she set the combination and clicked the lid open. Sitting in the velvet lined box was a small, custom, silver, 9mm pistol and three full clips. Eyeing the engraved ‘Little Sheep’ along with the running sheep carved under the wording, she holstered it to her leg and stood up, fitting the clips diagonally above it to the belt.

Letting her coat veil the weapon, she turned off the computer and left her lab, flicking the light off and locking the door behind her, leaving it in a void of darkness. She had learned her lesson about forgetting to lock the door only once. With so many civilians crammed in the building, it was bound to happen, but before, someone had raided her lab and taken all the meds in a mad scramble. They of course found them and thrown the one responsible out, most likely to their death but yes, lesson learned.

Hands shoved in her pockets, she slowly walked through the white concrete hallways, lined with painted, blue arrows. However, she kept glued to her device, staring down at the screen as a blip revealed her movements and directed her with a dotted line to her designation, along with an increasing step counter and a timer for how long it would take to arrive.

She paid little attention to her surroundings, to the lack of personnel as she walked, footsteps resounding in the mostly empty corridor. Only a few State’s Watch members guarded exits and doorways, standard issue assault rifles pinned to their chest and expressions of stone. This compound used to be well supplied with defensive measures and soldiers but with the all-out war, few remained stationed here. Passing by the main entrance, Mishy glanced at the doorway to the outside, protected by a massive, circular vault door of pure, reinforced steel. It did its job of keeping everything out whilst also locking them in. She had no idea if she would ever see the sky again. Although if that meant not looking upon the grotesque undead ever again, it was more than worth it. That’s what she told herself at least. Her medical mentality fought her always. Need that vitamin D if there is such a thing anymore, with the sky as it is now.

Lost in thought, she arrived at the section nine bunk room much quicker than she imagined. Letting her hanging ID flash against the door panel, the locks disengaged, bars sliding back. Entering, all eyes turned to her. Looking up, she met the distraught faces of the many civilians, dressed in identical, standard white clothes given to them by the State. It made her uncomfortable, the countless, defeated eyes on her, but she ignored it, keeping her professional expression locked on her face.

“Good evening,” Mishy announced, her soft voice barely reaching halfway down the expansive room. “Hope you are all doing well. I am here to give out medicine to those in need. If a new ailment has surfaced, please tell me and I will requisition new medications for your current affliction.”

Taking out the electronic registry, she went from the top, walking around the room to each of the civilians noted, passing out pills. The sickly gratefully accepted the meds with a cup of water from the watercoolers stationed gradually down the hall, constantly supplied by the underground resource, filtration unit.

Before long, she had made it to the bottom of the list, the last name being one Irene Fisher, an elderly woman in her late eighties. Looking towards the end, she saw her laying in the alcove bunk carved into the wall, withered arm hanging off the edge. Approaching, her coat tail was suddenly tugged lightly. Looking back, Mishy caught sight of a young boy clutching his stomach, eyes glossed over with bubbling tears. “My stomach hurts,” he whined, choked up.

Immediately, his parents pulled him away. “So sorry,” the father said. “He’s just hungry…” He looked away, lips curling downward. Urged on by the nod of a woman who must have been his wife, he stared at the medic, fervently. “The food portions aren’t cutting it. We need more.”

The medic’s expression remained stoic, though her head throbbed from the piercing cries of the child. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Food is rationed and distributed by the board of requisitions.”

“That’s not good enough,” he roared immediately, fists tensed up into balls at his sides, the veins pulsing.

“I’m sorry,” she replied coolly, despite the random outburst causing her to cringe inwardly. “There are hundreds more people within this building that need to eat as well. At the moment, this is the way things are. It may change as time goes on. Please be patient.”

The man grit his teeth, eyes clenched shut, creasing lines in all directions. He trembled on the spot. She could tell he was contemplating something. Backing away, she kept her gaze on him, hand inching towards her hidden weapon. Within her chest, her heart quickened, and her breathing shallowed, as her mind raced. The last guards stationed were back a ways. This man could kill her before they arrived or at least cause some horrible damage. She was definitely not a fighter.

Others in the room tried to dissuade him, begging him to stop but kept at a distance. The boy was bawling, screaming, his father’s raised voice terrifying him. “I’m okay,” the boy cried. “I can wait until next breakfast!”

“Shut up! This b-bitch is going to get us more food whether she likes it or not!”

“Please,” she said, trying still to keep leveled. “Don’t do anything we are both going to regret.”

“A-Are you threatening me?” He growled, spit slathering down his chin. “You damn State Watch dogs are nothing but captors! I bet you have your own fancy room and more than enough food!”

“What I get is rationed t...”

“I won’t fucking hear it,” he interrupted with swat of his fist, coming between a few inches of her face. “Don’t you fucking lie to me!”

Hand trembling, she had her hand close to her gun now. “Oh I see,” he said with a dark chuckle. “You better be fast with that.”

“I don’t want to have to use this,” she said, a slight panic leaking into her voice. A bead of sweat raced down her cheek.

Everything around them dulled, the boy’s hysterical crying stifled by his mother who had pulled him into a tight embrace. Everyone had slinked towards the walls, covering their eyes and mouth’s. Heart pounding in her ears, the medic grasped the pistol grip. “Think of your son…”

Manic eyes shooting open, the man’s mouth ripped open to shout but it was another that took its place, a bloodcurdling, crackling shriek that couldn’t belong to anything human. Baffled, they both faltered, the man turning back to the horrid sound. Charging at him was the old woman, eyes corroded yellow and festering with hunger. Bony hands slashed out before her, jaws clacking loudly. In that split second of absolute horror, the medic flicked the gun from its holster and fired off a round, the blast, ear shattering. A sharp vibration shot up her arm.

She had no idea when she had closed her eyes but when they opened, a heavy blur muddled the scene before her. Ears ringing painfully, head ripping at itself, she blinked, a single, stinging tear rolling down her face. Arm dangling, she saw the gun, loosely in her grasp, a trail of wispy smoke rising from the downturned barrel into the air before evaporating. Afraid to look up, she gulped down the thick lump in her throat and forced herself to do so, but very slowly. The civilians were clutched to the walls, hiding in their bunks, shivering and weeping. Some buried their faces in pillows. The overhanging fear was almost palpable.

The raging man stood frozen on the spot, body trembling, looking not at the medic but at the corpse on the ground, head resting in a pool of fresh blood. All his anger had dissipated, fear taking its place. “Y-You shot her,” he managed to get out. “You are a…murderer.”

His words struck her chest, sending it to the deepest pit of her stomach. “She wasn’t…” She trailed off, staring forward blankly. Did she imagine she was undead? Impossible, she reprimanded. However, the question remained valid until she could check. However, she made no attempt to move.

At her back, the door burst open with two armed guards filling the doorway, rifles drawn. “What the hell happened?!”

“She killed the old woman,” the man shuddered, face sallow. “She murdered her.”

One guard ran up alongside the Medic. “Health Officer Mishy, is that true?”

Gun quivering in her grasp, she tried to speak. “I...Th...ought…”

Pushing past the man, the guard knelt by the dead body, noting the perfect, dead shot center of the bullet smoking in her forehead, the wound deep and crusted in thick mucus and puss, mixing with the trail of blood left behind. Carefully, he spread one of her eyelids, revealing a sickly yellow and brown cornea, all blood vessels burst into a sea of sickly infection. Mishy watched, the whole scene as if it was an out of body experience.

“She was turned,” the guard stated, dryly, with a very subtle hint of relief. “Mishy saved your life. Be grateful.”

Though the news should have relieved the medic, she remained in place, lost to everything around her. “Get Mishy out of here. I’ll deal with the body. Everyone else please stay at your bunks until the situation is concluded.”

Running over, the other guard that had waited by the door, pat her shoulder gently, before turning her away from the scene. They walked out into the hall, away from the others. “Are you alright?”

Mental state a jumbled mess, she could only manage half a nod. “Thank you. I-I think I need to lay down.”

“Understandable. Do you want me to escort you to your room?”

“I’m fine,” she replied dully, taking a few staggering steps away. “T-Thank you.”

Suddenly, the walls seemed to close in around her, whizzing to encase her in a claustrophobic box. Disappearing behind a corner, Mishy kept up her gait, but trails of tears lined her cheeks. They would not stop flowing, despite the many times she dabbed them away with the handkerchief she held in her free hand. In the other, she still grasped the gun, much heavier than it ever was before. Logic tried to pierce through, trying to promote reason. Even though she had been assured that she had saved that man’s life and had killed an undead, not a normal human being, it still weighed heavily on her. Impossibly so. This was however the first time she had ever shot anything other than a target.

Sniffing, she didn’t realize it, so lost in the aftermath of what just happened that she had just been walking blindly down the halls, taking turns without thinking. Retrieving her portable mapping device, she hovered her finger over it. Finally pressing it, a sudden, staggering boom shook the entire complex. The tubed fluorescents running along the walls shook and flickered.

Nearly toppling over, she straightened up quick before another blast rocked the building, this time coming from a different side. Gasping, she lowered to the floor, the icy sting of fear locking her joints and freezing her insides. “A-Are we being attacked?!”

Cued, the hidden alarms started blaring, a hollow, jarring whirl that echoed eerily down every hall. Then another earth rocking explosion took out the lights completely, and silencing the alarm, leaving Mishy in blackness and total silence. Fumbling, she pressed the map that blazed to light, blinding her, the only sound coming from her frantic breathing. Focusing on the blip, she tried to remain calm, though at this point, it was comical to assume she could manage such a thing.

Fiddling with the touch screen, she found the option to press to remap her location. Upon pressing, a vibration exuded from the device, shaking in her hand and a little bleep sent a sonar out in all directions. It took but a moment to return but the map flashed with three massive, empty spaces in the exterior walls on multiple sides of the complex. ‘How? How?!’

In the darkness, a ghastly orchestra of guttural moans leaked into the halls that pricked every hair on her body to stand on end. The undead had got in. How soon would it be before they completely overtook the entire compound?

Pointing the device away from her, the bright light cast a glow a few feet ahead of her in a cone. Lifting the gun upwards, she hesitated, feeling her index finger tensed on the trigger. ‘Where do I go?’

Command was at the center. But to get there, she would have to make it through whatever entered from those cavities. Shuffling feet encroached on her and then a gangly form came into the light. Peering up, she locked eyes with a tall undead. It hissed, patches of skin missing from its lifeless face, shredded layers hanging between an exposed set of broken, and gnashed teeth morphed in a deadly grin.

Mouth agape, Mishy struggled to raise the gun to face level and squeezed the trigger, watching as its head imploded from the bullet, splattering a mess of ooze on the walls around her and on her. A wet chunk slid down the left lens of her glasses. It was cold against her skin, the sensation sinking deep under her flesh. Wiping off the glasses systematically, she backed away as others came into view, groaning, torn garments revealing their infested and putrid, grey forms.

Feeling her legs threatening to become rubber, she wheeled about and ran opposite of the increasing numbers of the dead. “Help,” she screeched. “Anyone!”

An explosive rattling sounded ahead. Gunfire. Sprinting towards it, her coat whipped behind her, her shoes clapping against the floor. She kept calling out, incessantly. Then suddenly, passing by a door, she heard a click and the door shot open. Suddenly, a wall of invisible bodies slammed into her, knocking her to the ground, glasses flinging off along with her mapping device, skittering off in the distance. A myriad of undiscernible sounds mixed together into a collage of anarchy. Disoriented, she fumbled to reach out for her glasses, the light of the device being filtered through many moving, blurred shadows. Her hand was trampled on more than once, striking pains up her arm.

Hissing in pain, she kept flicking her fingers out until they miraculously found them. Putting it on her face, she snatched the device, its light revealing the jigsaw cracks in her lenses, obscuring her vision. It was almost impossible to see through them. She could make out however, many people running away. Civilians. The locks must have been released. With the urge of the horde behind her, she found her footing and followed after the others.

Her thin body ached. Dizzy, she slugged along the wall, but rushed as best she could. Peeking back periodically, she gratefully couldn’t make out the dead in the glow of the device. They clearly lagged behind. Unfortunately, however, the civilians had all but disappeared from sight as well. Though being rag dolled around that stampede would have most likely killed her.

Then came the screams. Chilling to her very core. The very sound made Mishy’s skin crawl as if thousands of ants crossed over her nerves. Snarls mixed in with the screaming, ripping and shredding following. A reddish light filtered out revealing a tight corner a foot away. With no other choice, Mishy plastered herself to it and peeked out. Before her, the escaping civilians had met a force of the undead, some tackled to the ground and ripped open. A macabre feast unfolded before her very eyes. The dead’s jaws clacked on whatever they could latch onto, ripping apart chunks of meat. Bodies were rent asunder and intestines cleaved from stomachs, eyes, guts, all manner of extremities snatched free. Gurgling, the victims flailed futilely in their grips. Some had escaped, through the gaps, running out into the night to some unknown fate.

Panic and adrenaline pin balled inside of Mishy as she hid behind the corner and glanced at the map, looking for another way out. Out of sheer luck, she found she had just passed by a door that miraculously led down to an emergency exit. This would have been used would they have known of the attack, all personnel and civilians in this sector led out in file. It was her only chance. Going back, she found the door just as the zombies from the other side caught up and silently shut it behind her. Catching her breath, she followed the tight corridor without looking back. She had no idea what she was going to do or where she was going to go once she had escaped but that would have to wait for her to actually get out. Meeting another door at the end, she opened it, entering what looked to be a colossal garage bay.

Her device revealed fully armored, military Humvees, prepped and loaded with mounted 50 caliber M2’s. Maybe she could take one. Abruptly, shrieking, grinding metal suddenly made her leap out of her skin and duck down instinctively, inhaling so sharply it hurt her chest. Clicking the mapping device off, she moved behind one of the vehicles as the grating continued, wrenched by something powerful. A rolling wave of crimson light filtered over the floor. The bay doors were opening. Inhaling, she clasped both hands over her mouth, scrunching her knees to her chest as tightly as possible. With a mighty slam that shook the ground, the room was now bathed and visible.

Booming footsteps announced that someone or something had entered the bay. A powerful, sharp hiss spewed out into the air following more clomping, deep steps. As it grew closer, Mishy scurried onto the other side, away from it. A dangerous, biting curiosity snapped into her fear, but she refused to look at whatever it was, the image of her sharing the fate of those citizens keeping her rational. Instead she looked outside and her eyes shot open as far as they could go at what was revealed to her.

The curved hill that led into the streets were paved in an intertwined pathway of mutilated corpses, nothing left by grotesque mush and severed limbs and bones. It was beyond anything she had ever beheld. Pinching her nose, she tried to stay silent as the putrid stench clogged her senses, filling her throat with threatening bile. Whatever was inside, moved towards the door Mishy had just came through and halted. Going round the front of the Humvee, the medic clung to the grating and stuck one eye out the side. She immediately cursed herself for doing so.

Through the broken lens, she made out a tank of a man bulging with thick plates of cement armor and rippling, muscle the likes she had never seen. It had the form of a human but there was no way it could be. A high rise, mechanical neck brace veiled their head and their hands were encased in monstrous gauntlets, thick pistons attached to its sides. Glowing, red designs flowed through the brace and gauntlets, pulsing. On its back plating, the insignia of the Xenolith revealed clear as day, etched deep within the armor.

Horrified, though morbidly curious, Mishy wondered how he was going to fit within the confines of the hall. With no means of escape, with this beast so close, she kept glued to the spot and observed as he reared his long, behemoth arm back. The gauntlet hissed the same as before, the pistons jutting screwing outwards. Pulling back as far as it would go, the tank thrust his fist forward with a speed and force she could not make out and with a ruptured blast, the wall exploded into a gaping hole that left a cloven path as the rubble and dust cleared, marring the entire area in a brown haze.

Mishy had fell back from the blast, left nearly deaf save the intense ringing. The Humvees had quaked, nearly toppled onto their sides. Shaken, rattled and scooching back, the medic watched the monster trudge on ahead with each staggering stomp. In an unnerved spike of anticipation, she hopped up, and snuck outside, running as fast as she could despite her muddled condition. Stepping between the bodies, her flats squelched against gore and blood, lashing out against her legs and coat tail, sullying it. Least that thing could not have heard her, especially after such a blast and distance between them.

And with one last, inquisitive glance back, her entire body locked into place as a pair of blazing eyes of absolute flame glared at her from within the shadowed compound, searing into her very soul. Her heart beat slowed before kicking up. Nearly choking on air, she found the energy to dash away, fully expecting him to mow her down. No beastly steps charged after her however and she had escaped across the cleared street, under the shadow of the light way, Tram Bridge.

But to what end? The place that had kept her protected was now destroyed and she was stuck out in the streets. Where would she go now? Flicking on the mapping device, she pushed outward, to the country view and noticed again how bad her glasses were. Scoffing, she snatched them off her face in irritation and tried her best to focus on the map. Compounds like this one, were all marked as blue blips in each district. Marking the next one closest to her, she sighed heavily. She needed to at least attempt to get there and warn them of the sudden attack. With the enemy having such a monster on their side, it was hard to imagine what could possibly be done about it but it was all she could come up with. It was her only logical option, join with more of the State’s Watch. Alone, it was blatantly obvious that she wouldn’t last for long.

Then again, there was no way of knowing if the other compounds weren’t already like this one. The stressful and panicked thoughts reminded her of the throbbing headache that had turned into a full on migraine. Digging into her coat pocket, she felt a bottle and pulled it out. The label was hard to discern but she could make out enough to realize it was aspirin. Plopping two in her mouth, she leaned her head back and swallowed.  Exhaling she rubbed her eyes. Checking the clip in her pistol, she closed her eyes and regained her composure, organizing everything in her head. “First things first,” she groaned, knowing it must be done. “I’m going to need to find some new glasses.”

[igiveyouanumbrella-blog]

Faith

Pairing: Apostasia/Erbluhen Emotion

Rating: UH??? Potentially bad and incoherent writing produced by a brain deprived of good sleep. This is more of a character exploration than anything i’m sorry.

Words count: 1202

Related to x

Synopsis: They are both anxious. 

His only warning is the clinking sound of silver hitting stone, and a whispered “sorry” which sounds nothing but. Apos flutters opened his green eyes, but in truth he doesn’t need sight to confirm his quarry. The frequency of hesitant steps on grass, the intermittent chuckles and irregular heartbeats inside the other’s chest-he has registered them all in his mind more out of endearment than caution.

“Welcome back,” Apos says to fill in the silence. Time with Erblu has taught him the values in small talks, the comfort they bring. Like Erblu’s responding smile, for example.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Erblu bends down gracefully while talking, and Apos trains his eyes downward to see deft fingers picking up a silver spoon. Green eyes flicker over the other celestial’s body-taking in all the wind-tousled hair, rumpled clothes, bruised wrists, and finally, they land on the floral-printed box shape wedged under Erblu’s thin arm filled with cuts.

He doesn’t have to stare too long, because Erblu notices his concern quickly enough. He always does. “I tripped on a pile of autumn leaves while I was running to the market.” Apos’ eyes squint underneath his long bangs, a sullen feeling dawning in his guts despite the warm space created by Erblu’s carefree laughter.

“And I brought food.” Erblu smiles gently, tucking his gnawed hands in his dirt-stained pockets-a clumsy attempt in distraction which relies on Apos’ good faith to look away. Apos follows the cue-he knows Erblu dislikes being fussed over when the moment warrants it. Many things Erblu does don’t really make sense, and Apos doesn’t like to dwell on activities which bear no fruit-arguing being one. He drifts along with the motions Erblu leads.

“We can eat, after you clean up your wounds.”

At least, that’s how it would be for a long time ago.

Apos has enough self-awareness now to recognize how much he has changed, has enough humility to accept the irrationality of his own being. A progress, Erblu has declared. An eventuality, Apos has corrected.

Erblu tilts his head and chuckles dismissively at first, but stops when Apos’s cold fingers trace over the angry purplish-red on his pale skin, the thin cuts dripping tiny beads of blood. Apos knows they must have hurt despite Erblu’s pretenses-the diminutive shudders in that body cannot lie.

“Then I will use some healing potions we have on stock.” Apos’ hand grips the dirt-stained coat sleeves to halt the other from stepping away. Confused green eyes bore into his core.

“No. Heal. You need to sleep.”

“Not gonna. Who knows when we will encounter more of them again, like last night? I can’t afford to tire myself out, Apos.” Erblu whines with his head buried in Apos’ shoulders, and Apos can feel the strains in Erblu’s every muscle, hardening to prevent their owner from slumping down out of exhaustion. He cannot refute Erblu’s words due to their truths-the air of Feita has grown more poisonous by the day, and it’s not a stretch to say it has become more of a breeding ground for demons. Dealing with their abominable claws for days wear down any seasoned warriors, not just a human fledging with a bleeding heart on his sleeves.

“I will protect you.” Things come out of his tongue more naturally, now-he supposes years spent dealing with a loquacious celestial would influence him so. A stubborn gaze surfaces and meets his blank one.

“I don’t want to be a burden, Apos. I will fig-“

“You traveled to get some food for us,” more like sneaking away to town, but the irritation is as quickly swatted down as it rose when Erblu’s wide green eyes turn downcast with guilt. Familiarity only intensifies his reluctance with breaking Erblu’s open and fragile heart. “You are not useless.” He settles monotonously, cautiously. There are sticky residues in the roof of Apos’ mouth, but he cannot expel more syllables to wash them away. Many words want to overflow, but his lips stay sealed and grim, waiting for Erblu’s retort.

A silent staring match begins, but soon enough, Erblu gives him a wispy smile in resignation. “You always have your way.” Then, a yellow glow pulsating with Eid’s warm energy covers them both like a membrane, stitching up cuts and soothing the bruises. Apos brings a hand to ghost over the fading purple on Erblu’s wrist as the other settles the floral-printed box down on the ground.

“You still don’t want to go back?” He repeats the question once more, even when they have both known the full answer. It’s another routine Apos doesn’t understand the full value of. Or maybe he does, but that would be admitting something deeply unpleasant even an apostate cannot repudiate. He is above doubt, above the absurdity that implicates mortals, for Apos is not man.

And yet…

“I don’t like to break vows,” Erblu’s gaze remains calm like it has been for years, his lips bleeding red with promise-there was a small cut on it Apos hasn’t taken notice before. Something inside him flutters, then lands gently in his core. Apos lets out a sigh, leans down to land a kiss that’s deep and slow, his tongue tasting the blood and warmth.

“Next time, bring me with you when you want to travel farther away,” he whispers on the corner of Erblu’s mouth, less of a suggestion than a promise. Erblu leans into his chest, his soft hair tickling Apos’ nose.

“…Okay,” and soon, soft breathing fills the space as Erblu’s full weight presses on his frame. Apos’ arms wrap around his small waist, bringing the other closer, then carefully places him on top of a clean patch of grass.

Erblu’s heartbeat and bodily warmth are getting more consistent everyday-increasing mortality showcasing the early signs of demotion, edging Apos on with anxiety. Eating and running have become less of frivolous experiments and more of efforts of necessities, when Erblu’s stomach can begin to growl and his wings in celestial form have been shrinking. Apos wants to curse Her pride, Her reluctant on relinquishing a fragment of Herself to be engaged with a corrupted being. Her ignorance on Erblu’s obstinate love is the worst offense, because instead of scorning the mortals’ limitations and their follies, he has learnt to accept and sympathize with them. Her persistent, divine crusade to win back a lost loyalty prolongs their suffering, their doubts, their bonds. Their love.

Apos declared Erblu’s intractability a weakness when they first met, when he was still young and scared and thrilled that someone can betray their own supreme being to salvage his futile life. Erblu has smiled at him back then and labeled it an imperfection, before letting his entire essence charm a hungry heart.

Apos lies down on the grass, wraps an arm around Erblu’s frame, and breathes in all of his warmth. He lands a soft kiss on Erblu’s hair, in pardon, as there’s no divine to accompany them in a confessional, not anymore. They will learn to live with their follies, with their foolishness.

And perhaps, that is all the salvation they ever need.

....

Headcanons:

[”Ishmael actually cares (in selectivity)” AU]

Celestials’ human bodies do not have heartbeats. Nor do they breathe nor bleed red, actually (I imagined either what flows out of their wounds is clear blue crystal liquid-the essence of Ishmael, or they wouldn’t even bleed at all.) They are beings far from the essence of mortality despite taking the form of humans. Base Ain and first class Ains may use magic to try and imitate these features in order to fit in with the humans for the mission, but as time goes on, only Erblu continues keeping up the veneer out of a desire to assimilate with human society.

When Erblu turns more “human”, his vessel cannot handle the El’s magic nor the divine power granted to a celestial, even if he can chant them. His powers are not as strong, and he can easily tire himself out using these powers. I originally wanted to make the consequences more devastating but I just couldn’t bring myself to.