#the fact that cinders first thoughts before going down this path that would lead her to becoming queen is to protect kai | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wishingformemoria · 4 years

Text

(Spoiler heavy) S4 hopes and beyond for Viren, Claudia, and Aaravos.

Prefacing this with: this is just my opinion, and what I want to see regarding these three. Feel free to disagree and discuss in the comments. Each section is meant for its own reading, so if you'd rather skip to a certain character you can; rather than each part leading into the next. Video version of this post linked here! (Timestamps in the description) I know the novels, comics, and games will add more context to scenes for the show and will be great in their own right. But there're things that should be there within the show that people can’t skip. (Links are bolded) (Reddit version)

TL;DR:

_____________________________________________________

• To make the conflict between dark versus primal magic more meaningful, we need to see more grey-areas in dark magic. Which should be shown through actions. I can't think of a better way to do that than by shifting the focus to Viren, Claudia, and Aaravos.(The rest of the cast still gets meaningful screen-time! Ex: Callum learning more primal magic.)

_____________________________________________________

• If (big if) Viren gets redeemed no one should be obligated to forgive him, but he has to do right by his family first before anything else for a realistic redemption arc. • Claudia will have to get worse before she gets better. She needs to separate from Viren (and Aaravos), to figure out what her goals are and see the world outside of just her family. _____________________________________________________ • Aaravos, when he escapes, should genuinely grow to care for Viren and Claudia and for that be a conflict itself, due to whatever his plans are. If he does care, he needs to respect boundaries. Period. (Sorry! The whole "switch targets to throw Viren aside to focus on Claudia" doesn't sit right with me; including the fact, Aaravos has no one else, and it'd be a waste for him to throw away the people who have anchored him to the present!)

_____________________________________________________

Viren:

I’m of the mind that not every villain needs a redemption arc, or even deserves one. They especially don't need to be redeemed to justify likeability and "negative" character development is interesting too and is just as "realistic."

Viren is that character for me, and I’m still interested in where his story goes from here; his actions kick-started the plot, and there're many ways for him to go forward. There is no point in resurrecting this character if they do nothing with him.

He’s a polarizing character. I have mixed feelings on him but does he deserve redemption? He has to do a lot to justify one; every character is capable so long as enough time is spent to commit to the idea of a believable redemption arc. Viren’s redemption will not come from the elves or dragons, (not that his actions against Xadia should be ignored) but they will not be what causes him to realize the error of his ways. It has to come from his family, but forgiveness should not be obligated.

I don’t think we as the audience are meant to feel sympathy for his character, more towards the people he’s connected to--his children. I want to believe he was once a loving and caring father, as seen in this end credit for S1, and that this is the reason Claudia and Soren idealized him so much even after the fact he started to change.

I need to be shown this, not informed. I understand there’s things to save until later in the story, but if they were going for sympathy for Viren--it could have been shown within the flashback scenes of S2; not in a skippable content.

I know they use the end credits to foreshadow things.

I despised Viren’s actions in S3, and while he's being manipulated by Aaravos, Viren lost whatever "greyness" he had this season. Viren claims what he does is for humanity and yet turned the human armies into monsters; he even considered doing this to his own son! There is nothing "pragmatic" about this, even if you try justifying their fire resistance. We don’t even know if this was reversible!

And this is due to Aaravos' manipulation but it didn't take that much prompting. Aaravos gave him everything he wanted: Power. Respect. Recognition. Something Viren has wanted for a long time. He took Aaravos’ suggestions uncritically after becoming King.

Viren has done terrible things before meeting Aaravos, but he's not responsible for every wrong in the show. His misguided vengeance for Sarai was driven by emotion, not logic; is how this all began. We wouldn’t have this story without Viren. There are too many unanswered questions and things only he can solve that shouldn't be placed on his children to solve.

I don’t think he should be redeemed. If he’s redeemed, death should not be that redemption. Because what is the point in his resurrection if they go that route? It would take Claudia leaving Viren (and Aaravos) for him to realize, whatever his goals were before this, that it was not worth losing his family’s love. Probably the only people who do still love him.

Redemption arcs do not end when a character realizes their actions were wrong, it begins that way, and it’s a continuous effort to correct them. But forgiveness should not be obligated for the acknowledgment of change. Especially not so from the people they harmed; too many times a villain gets redeemed at the expense of their victim’s feelings, and that their victims are obligated to forgive them to complete their redemption arc.

I want the show to answer this: The Viren that Soren and Claudia idealized so much, did that person ever truly exist?

Claudia:

I’m not alone in disliking her actions in S3, and as much as I didn’t want her to go down this path, she has. I felt she needed more screen-time in this season to justify it. More conversations with Soren challenging their belief systems--not seeing eye-to-eye for example.

Claudia has constantly had to choose between the people she loves, between her family and childhood friends. Never wanting to make that choice: feeling personally responsible for her family’s health and happiness instead of Viren doing that himself. Family may be what drives her, but it can't be the only thing.

Love has been her motivator behind her actions. It was never about power.

Claudia has a lot of potential and it shouldn't only be to further Viren and Soren's character development. What about her? Even though I felt Aaravos’ warning to Viren was unnecessary, since I never saw Viren being honest during the prison scene anyway--the implication of that was if Claudia did learn the truth? She would have turned away from Viren the same way Soren had.

Claudia doesn’t do this because she desperately wants to believe Viren isn’t this person who’s done these horrible things; She goes into denial when Soren reveals the truth of the secret mission to kill the princes because she’s placed Viren on a pedestal. Even her excuse in “Hearts of Cinder” of “maybe he’s just doing what needs to be done” not even she believed that. Claudia’s clinging onto the family she has: the abandonment of her mother isn’t a good excuse for what’s she’s done in S3, and Viren took advantage of that fear. It only took Viren questioning Claudia’s faith in Ezran for her to become silently resigned. Claudia isn’t staying with Viren because she thinks he’s right, she’s staying because he made her believe she can’t trust anyone else. She’s in a vulnerable spot now without Soren.

And Soren is going to have to deal with people openly celebrating his father's death and his sister's disappearance. But I’ll save my thoughts on him for another post. Claudia and Soren need each other and things are going to get worse for her before they get better. She’s not going to accept her father has changed until this pedestal she’s placed him on is broken. Possibly she’ll even escape from him when she gets the chance. S4 should deal with the aftermath of S3, and show us how she’s not handling it well. I don’t think she’s beyond hope. Claudia’s lost right now, not evil.

Aaravos:

Prefacing this with: I know Aaravos is using Viren as a means to an end; I'm not blind to that. The fact that he refers to Viren as his "vessel" and Claudia as an "asset" is so telling in how he views them--not as people, but tools. And likely nothing beyond that.

Aaravos is the type of character you’d introduce in the second to last season, not right there, in the beginning. Yet, Aaravos is our narrator and much more than that: heavily tied to this story’s history; both past and a present we don’t know about yet. There’s a reason the present era is called “The Return of Aaravos.” Is Aaravos an unreliable narrator or is he telling the story from the beginning of what was true at the time, and telling it in a non-linear manner? In the words of Jean-Luc Godard: “A story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end, but not necessarily in that order.” Is he a friend to humanity? Despite standing with the elves for humanity’s expulsion from Xadia? (x) Does his “special interest” in humans extend to seeing their potential as equals or just a means to an unknown end?

Aaravos is apparently genuinely “kind, generous, and giving” as informed in this interview with the creators,"he's disliked, that's not the same as bad." But the question of whether he's a Lucifer or Prometheus remains to be seen. And if a Prometheus, was his “gifts to humanity” dark magic? Since Aaravos is the only elf seen thus far using it. I could make a separate post on just Aaravos, but for the sake of this section, it only focuses on his current relationships: The person he mainly interacts with is Viren, who connects Aaravos to the present story. As just one of the many examples of elf and human relationships on the show, they’re both manipulative, self-serving, and form a tentative alliance; only time will tell how lasting it is once Aaravos is free from imprisonment. What his plans are for when he escapes is anyone's guess; he's embittered by imprisonment and seeks vengeance for all who put him there. Punishing their descendants if need be. (Ex: Killing Sunfire elf Queen Khessa, related to Queen Aditi; harming Zym due to the Dragon King and Queen overseeing his imprisonment.)Centuries may not seem long to elves or dragons, (especially so with Startouch elves having the longest lifespans of the elves), but it is a long time to be alone. While I understand he doesn't have to form any attachment to Viren outside of escaping imprisonment, it’s the more interesting route. Aaravos doesn't have anyone else, and their stories are closely intertwined now. But there’s a clear power imbalance in this relationship and Viren is aware of that. Viren is only in this mess for two reasons: his curiosity got the better of him, and he was at a low point, desperate for someone, anyone, to listen to him. The power then given to him by Aaravos only sealed his fate. (Despite this, their interactions were enjoyable to watch; largely due to the amazing voice actors, and the fact their character’s personalities balance each other out.) There's no doubt that Aaravos will continue to manipulate Viren and now by extension, Claudia.

But if Aaravos is this "kind, generous, giving" person, then that needs to be shown through his actions of caring for anyone other than himself; and if Aaravos does grow to care it becomes a conflict of interest. Their dynamics would need to change the moment he cares because boundaries are nonexistent for Aaravos regarding Viren. As for Claudia, she’s going to be wary of him and will sooner blame any changes in Viren on Aaravos, (which is not an unfair assessment), rather than accept Viren changed a long time ago. Aaravos will likely mentor her and their relationship will grow into nothing beyond that of a student and teacher. Viren and Claudia are already skilled in dark magic, Aaravos just knows more due to age and possibly contributing to its creation. Again, this is just what I want to see for these characters: Aaravos is going to be a series-long mystery, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t get character development in S4 and to have him grow to care for the people who connect him to the present this alone will prove he's what these interviews claim him to be. Feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments whether you agree or disagree? O/

#the dragon prince #aaravos #viren #tdp claudia #tdp spoilers

2 notes · View notes

sugar-petals · 6 years

Text

Cinder | pt.1 ➝ pjm

↳ sequel to cygnet (m).

¬ pairing: Jimin x Reader

¬ words: 7,417

¬ summary: Two and a half years later. The Black Forest. After your separation from the Prince of Bavaria, you have found and won back his lost sword, Cinder. The blade leads you on a trail behind robbers who you suspect have abducted the Prince.

¬ genre/warnings: bavarian prince!jimin, historical, thriller, rated r, action, graphic violence, gore/body horror, angst, hurt & comfort

¬ a/n: Paintings in the separators by Rubens.

The man falls over with a dagger in his heart.

Seconds later, Anna reaches down to withdraw the hilt.

She remains stern. Austere.

While blood keeps soaking through the man’s grey shirt, heavy raindrops start to ruffle the current of the nearby river. Friedrich is all neigh and trot tonight. He looks impatient standing at the bridge. His black fur wets down almost entirely. No other horse would volunteer to ever tread this area.

When the rain begins to permeate the air entirely with a heavy earth-like scent, Anna boots the lifeless body into the creek. A gush of clear water from the river’s edge suffices to rinse off her blade. She stuffs it back into the casing at her belt almost right away.

Meanwhile, the pour from the sky has become relentless. Anna misses the south of France. Germany is no good when it comes to stable weather. Not at all. Still, she remains focused.

The maiden heads over to the bridge for adjusting Friedrich’s saddle until she is somewhat content with how it sits. The horse is jittery, completely drenched at this point.

It’s a solemn day.

Churning, the river sweeps a few crooked branches down its current while the water surface becomes increasingly agitated by the downpour. After three whistles and two claps, Anna decides to linger at the waiting spot herself to listen for a sign. And there it is. A reply.

Three whistles. One clap.

In a heavy gallop through the mud, fervid Gretchen storms toward the creek. Her mane, dark like hickory, leaves a dense spray of rain on your vest. You keep the leather reins wrapped tight around your gloves. Maybe there is another horse who would volunteer to tread this area.

Once you stop at the bridge, Anna greets you with a tip of her hat, earning one from yours in return.

“Clap louder next time, Milady. It was barely audible.”

“My bad. Started when the wind came.”

“The whistles were pretty good anyways,” Anna pats Gretchen’s flank. The horse’s breath goes slower by the minute.

“Couple of Duke’s chambermaids taught me last week,” you shrug. “They always use it when picking berries at the mill.”

“Friedrich’s ears went all stiff when you did it,” Anna goes on to caress her own horse’s head. His ears are still upright either way. Either of your Warmbloods had been tense all day. They feel what you feel.

You barely nod looking around with a squint to your eyes. Mud everywhere. Steep rock. More branches. The rain keeps trickling down the back of your vest.

“Where is the guy with the grey shirt?”

Anna’s face scrunches up.

“Down the creek. Got carried away pretty fast. Disgusting smell.”

It's almost guaranteed.

“That’s washed away by now,” you say, gazing down the current. “Robbers don’t have palace etiquette. The Duke is big on sanitation.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“We’ve been catching dust at Castle Altfried for too long. I'm not used to this either.”

Admittedly so, you can hardly stand the wind and ride with a stable posture. It's almost embarrassing. By comparison, Gretchen is remarkably steady underneath you. Anna does notice.

“Was there a problem with Steinburg?” she asks, and concern laces into her words.

You shake your head fast, making excess rain drip from your hat.

“No, I couldn’t find him. Gretchen isn’t fast enough yet. We’ve never practiced riding on boulders.”

The maiden hums.

“Right. She’s used to gentler paths.”

“But at least you got rid of this one,” you point toward the red patch next to the creek’s bank a few meters away. “Good job, Anna. You threw a dagger at him, didn’t you.”

“Guy was busy picking his nose and peeing into the water.”

“Really?”

“Aimed straight at the chest when he noticed me and wanted to aim his gun.”

You laugh at the image forming in your mind.

“What an idiot.”

“I think— He was guarding something for Steinburg around here.”

You look around the barren area a second time. A few pine trees in the distance make the landscape at least a bit more inviting. But yet again, you note how much you hate the Black Forest during storms.

And either way.

It's hard to suppress the feeling. The denial, and the desire.

You wish for Jimin's body close.

Right now.

The memory still feels palpable. It’s painful in your chest.

“Not the most hospitable place."

Gretchen, as if nodding along, moves her head.

Anna affirms quickly in reply. “Must've been something important to guard, he was clad in arms, Y/N.”

You understand. As expected of Steinburg's lackey.

“We’ll search the caves over— there,” you indicate toward the cluster of hills and rocks west of the creek. “I get a feeling the robbers are hiding something in those.”

Anna sounds a lot more disgruntled at that.

“Milady, we don’t know how sloped they are. We don’t have a lamp!”

Nothing are you more acutely aware of. Even spending the upcoming night without any lighting will be hard. But what can you do but lie to yourself.

“Don’t care,” you seize Gretchen’s reins tight anew. The horse responds immediately by turning west. “It’s the only spot the grey shirt guy could guard. And if there’s nothing, at least we can escape the rain. Our horses can rest for a minute. They’ll thank us later.”

“Still don’t like the caves.”

“Come, saddle. It’s a good rest. We worry about the light when we’re there. It’s not like we just race inside.”

“Fair enough.”

Anna, after tilting her hat to let some accumulated water drip down, proceeds to climb on Friedrich’s back.

You vow to be careful when Gretchen clatters ahead through the muddy area.

The entrance is cluttered with pebbles and debris from what appears to be the remnants of a prior, heavier storm. Chunks of branches, earth. And even more rocky ground. Wetted down everywhere because the rain has even fewer mercy than Anna when she throws a dagger.

Still, you feel the longing in your chest. There isn’t much that really helps you distract yourself from it. Not in a landscape as barren as this. All you can do is soothe Gretchen with some corn from your vest. It’s a bit mushy, but a swordmaster’s horse could care less. She’s seen rougher days. At least you find it a little amusing to watch Gretchen munch and shake her mane around. The entrance spot makes for good shelter. But still, you make sure to adjust the bow on your back.

Half a minute later, you shift in the saddle to observe Anna gaze and grope about the walls of the cave on either side before she returns. You stuff the corn back into your vest when you see her expression being much graver than before.

“This place is strange, Milady,” she says. “I can’t tell why. There’s something... ashy on the walls.”

“Ash?”

“Yes.”

“Weird. But it’s not steep as you thought, right.”

“Not really.”

That's good. Very good, in fact. You let Gretchen circle about the area a bit now.

Ash on the walls. It really does seem peculiar.

The more you try to find the marks she is talking about, the more you wonder about the ground. Something is even stranger about it. So you look down closer leaning from your saddle, indeed making out some odd, elongated imprints and shapes.

“Anna, look at this!”

“Yes, Milady?”

The maiden already hurries over.

“I think there are footprints in the mud all around the entrance, I’m not sure. It could just be grey shirt guy’s. They don’t look like yours.”

You point beside where Gretchen stands with you on her back, waving her tail from side to side. Never is she as nervous. Not even when the Duke’s clarion players and knights march up every weekend at the Castle, playing their most intricate of songs while reeking like foul wheat. A nightmare to a horse. But even that won’t compare.

Anna crouches to twirl her gloved fingers through the mud. After a few seconds of investigation from all sides, she comes back to where you stand farther inside the cave.

“Those are traces other than grey shirt’s, Milady.”

“And?”

Her expression turns far too dark for your taste once more.

“They’re from heeled shoes.”

Jimin’s.

“What!”

“We have to go in deeper.”

Silence. You peek toward the inside of the cave. No lamp. No clue.

No time, either.

“Shit.”

“Gretchen and Friedrich can’t stay at the entrance,” Anna points at the horses. “If Steinburg or the other two robbers show up here, we’re done for.”

“They’ll send one of them to search for grey shirt guy. It’s two against two.”

“We can’t think about that now. The horses will lead the way.”

“Didn’t we just worry about having no light whatsoever, Anna?”

“They’ll fit through there, the cave’s tall. Gretchen has great sense of smell. Her first.”

“Let’s just hope there’s not a wolf or a bear in there.”

Eventually, you unsaddle, then take the bow and quiver from your back; strap both around Gretchen’s side at a height convenient to seize an arrow from. The rain keeps getting stronger.

Anna guides Friedrich toward the right slant of the entrance.

“Milady, I’ll always throw a knife for you.”

Her words are small a solace.

Your heartbeat feels louder in the cave than the rattling breath of the horses. Cygnet’s sheath rests in your left hand ever so firmly, cool, but wet from the rain. On the other side of your belt, tapping against the side of your hip with every step— Cinder, untouched. The wall of the cave feels brusque under your right palm. Anna glances back at you.

“We’ll have to rely on Gretchen in a few meters.”

“I don’t know if she’s ready.”

You’ve been riding around all day to scan the forest for any sign of the robbers or the Prince. Gretchen’s exhaustion is audible enough in her breath. You can be fortunate Anna encountered at least one of the robbers.

“The ground is even until now, we might be lucky.”

Might. And that's the problem.

“Maybe I can whistle while we still have a bit of daylight. If there are animals inside?”

“I don’t want to think about it.”

“This is the last spot where we stand a chance, Anna.”

A flash of surprise in Anna’s eyes tightens your grip around Cygnet.

“So you'll lure them out by whistling? I never thought about this.”

You don't want to imagine how the two horses would react if a wolf was in there. But there's no choice. The image of the heeled shoe's trace is too compelling inside your mind.

Jimin is here. And he needs your aid.

“I’ll do it.”

Friedrich, ears alert as ever, shudders, then sways from one hoof to the other when you bring two fingers to your lips. A long echo reverberates through the cave. It takes half a minute until the whistling sound ceases. It is so eerie that your legs seem to freeze.

“The cave is huge,” Anna trembles. She looks times stiffer. “The Prince could be anywhere.”

“Fucking hell...”

“There must be several caves branching out down there where it gets dark.”

All the more space for wild animals to get cozy.

Friedrich’s nostrils flare up, and he tilts his head towards Anna. He’s always done this being riled up before tournaments and lance games. You exhale, allow your eyes to trace the rock surrounding you. Calm, calm.

Stay calm.

“You said that the place is strange earlier, didn’t you.”

“Yes, what about it, Milady?”

You let your hand cup over the cragged stone surface on your right. Only a few meters and the cave will be too dark to maneuver like this.

“All those blemishes you’ve seen on the wall. I mean— Those could indicate the way.”

“I’d guess so,” Anna leans sidewards to inspect the walls before her.

“I’ve seen two ash blotches earlier. Here’s none. Yes. They appear in certain distances. I’m sure those are marks. Not random spots.”

They did look like stains made by torches, almost. Dark, grimy.

“That would make sense.”

“Say— If the cave has several branches, the robbers need the marks to find the way.”

Anna gulps. Her voice sounds hoarse now.

“The ash at the entrance looked pretty worn. Didn’t it.”

“So did the other two,” you withdraw the hand from the wall. “The ashes aren’t here since, well, recently. They applied them a long time ago.”

“I know what you mean.”

“If these are the robbers’ headquarters—”

Far around the corner, a dim light emerges.

Yellow, awfully bright in contrast to the surrounding dark walls. The horses flinch, as do you. Anna looks completely debilitated.

Only seconds later, someone shouts. It’s a deep growl. Haunting.

“Jakob, is that you?”

You know who it is. The voice.

It can belong to only one person.

The increasing alarm in Anna’s face tells you she understands, too. The yellow light keeps on approaching. She points to the saddles. But you’re frozen. Another shout.

“Hey! Jakob? Told you to guard the entrance, not to come inside. Why did you take the horses here? I can hear them!”

Steps. The light creeps up the walls further.

Jakob, you realize, was the robber in the grey shirt.

You've anticipated it. Both of the horses squeal in fear, then scurry to turn. Holding onto Gretchen's reins is a useless endeavor. Brushing past Anna who promptly falls, they race toward the exit, with Friedrich heading for it first.

Gretchen second—

Carrying both your bow and arrow with her.

Goodbye, headshot from a safe distance.

You rush toward Anna. The voice reverberates inside the caves again.

“Hm? What’s going on there, Jakob!”

The tone comes close enough for you to estimate its age. Mid thirties. Not approaching fourties yet. A heavy Swabian dialect. A man.

“Answer me!”

Teeth gritting, Anna still winds on the ground of the cave, grabbing her ankle. With a sinking heart, you realize that she twisted it. You've seen this type of injury in tournaments all too often.

By now, the walls are half illuminated. The steps around the bend of the cave are firm and significantly faster. Anna tries to get up using her other leg, but you prevent it by passing down your hat into her arms.

“No. Stay here.“

“Milady!”

“Anna. There is only one way to win such a battle.”

"Y/N..."

"I won't be a fool again. Keep an eye on the horses."

“Yes, master.”

He is as bulky as the salesman Meier described to you at Castle Altfried, selling his molded fruits.

Bearded, two meters tall, and a putrid smell preceding him. From his fur jacket’s top left pocket, a silver shine emanates in the candlelight of the lamp.

Jimin's edelweiss necklace.

“You! Must be the harlot the Prince has been pleading for all night.”

A crooked sneer. Rotten teeth. He stomps towards you with taunt written all over his face.

“Erich Steinburg.”

He laughs. Disparaging.

“Haven’t heard that name in four years. Four! You want to know how they call me nowadays?”

“You don’t sound like I have a choice.”

Steinburg bends one knee, leaning forward to put down the clattering lamp. You realize he does it to admit you a fast glance at the hefty weapon fastened to his back.

“The Axe of the Black Forest. But I don’t lumber.”

His massive arm, the circumference perhaps a third of Gretchen’s neck, reaches back. It slackens the grip of the double-bitted blade out of its leather straps. Your heart rate pounds like a kettledrum inside either of your ears. His axe looks even more massive now that he grips it.

“I see you don’t enjoy a battle of honor, Steinburg.”

His gaze falls to your belt.

“Huh! I don’t swordfight against harlots with nimble sword sticks.”

Steinburg spins the axe in the right palm now, giving you a 360° view of the heavy blade. It’s almost twice as large as his head.

“I used to fight with unfair means some time ago as well.”

“Givin' that up'll cost you your life, I’m afraid.”

Ghostly, seemingly by itself almost, Cygnet slides from its sheath. It feels different after it rained every time. You balance, listen to the blade, tilt— until finding the right way to grip.

“I will beleaguer you regardless.”

Again, it is Cygnet doing its work without much of your help. Albeit scaring you, it finds a way to arrange itself in the beginning stance of any battle you have lunged into.

With the difference that there is nothing mock about it.

Steinburg comes to trot closer. His steps are dull on the cavern's ground. The surrounding smell is so repugnant that you feel like turning your stomach inside out.

“It really is a stick. Don’t even get ten mark for that.”

“You think?”

“I’ll have great fun slicin' your corpse. The Prince will watch. Get good ransom for him, later.”

“You can try. Cygnet has slain men larger than you.”

"Too ambitious, harlot!"

The axe comes down with a vehemence that makes Steinburg’s arms bulge out a third their diameter. Cygnet’s blade first wavers, then glides off under the blow. You let go of the handle, drop to your knees. All to evade a diagonal swing of the axe aimed at chopping through your shoulder.

Centimeters left to Cygnet lying on the ground way past your reach, Steinburg’s own weapon engraves itself. There is no way you could retrieve your sabre. It did not last a single blow. The axe is far too massive. Steinburg is stronger than most knights at the Hohenzollern brigade.

But he is not first in line.

You stay kneeling and count to five while he draws back the axe again for another strike under tremendous efforts. It's one of the heaviest weapons you have ever seen.

5, 4, 3... 2.

A fervid pierce. So brute, you feel the shock sting through your entire arm. Steinburg first wavers— then collapses on the cave floor howling.

No second strike comes down precise. The axe has fallen from his grip before touching the ground.

His trousers turn carmine, then wine red around the spot where you rammed Anna’s dagger into his loin from below.

Femoral artery.

Pricked.

Right.

Through.

“Fool.”

Steinburg bawls out, winding on his stomach.

“What have you done!”

“This is no lance game, fucker. You kidnapped the Prince of Bavaria.”

You scramble up from your kneeling pose. A quick reach toward your belt. Unsheathed in a second.

Another spill of red. Cinder drills into the robber’s back, burying half its golden blade in flesh. He screams again. You plunge it down until the grip, and anchor it fast in his rib cage.

“My only honor will always be to protect the Prince. My sticks are just a tool.”

“You—!”

The blade through his lungs already shortcuts his breath.

“Deal with it. They call you Axe? Can’t even handle a little dagger.”

“Who, who are you!”

You shake your right arm to relieve it from the strain it took to place the knife into his loin.

“First in line of all swordmasters from East Prussia to Rhine's End,” you reach to the floor to pick up your lost sword, sheath Cygnet. It did not last the first blow, but its blade remains intact. “Bodyguard to the royal family of Bavaria. Any last words?”

“You’ll pay. You’ll pay for this.”

“Already did. 210 mark. Fucking expensive."

"What are you talking about!"

"Spent the other 39 I had at the Altfried town inn on some delicious asparagus before I met this guy Meier. Was well-invested money. You can still have it if you want. Isn’t money all you desire?”

“What?”

The cave’s ground already sticks with a pool of red under your feet.

“Wait a second. Here’s your payment.”

You take a deep breath, as close to him as possible. Inhaling every last bit of the foul scent. Lean down. Cough up.

And puke all over his face.

Three whistles and claps reply from the entrance of the cave. You wave the lamp back and forth. Seconds later, you hear hooves. Gretchen speeds toward you. Friedrich follows, with Anna on his back.

“Are you alright, Milady? Is the Prince alive?”

“Yes. Yes, I am. Steinburg isn’t."

"You made it!"

"Don’t look at him for too long. And hold your breath.”

You nod your head toward the corner of the cave where Steinburg’s feet protrude from.

“Oh God!”

“Gretchen shouldn’t smell that, we ride past quick, alright. Take care of your foot when we do.”

The maiden’s eyes wander to your hip, scanning.

“Where is Cinder? The sheath is empty! Is it damaged?”

“The Prince will retrieve the blade himself when we return.”

You pull yourself up Gretchen’s saddle and spur. After passing you your hat, Anna follows.

“And the dagger?”

“Crotch. Thank you for lending me.”

“Crotch!”

“Not thrown like I thought I would. I’m not as good at it.”

“You’ve stabbed Steinburg up close?”

“I did.”

“Just what did he wield?!”

“You’ll see in a second.”

The horses pass the corner of the cave. You don’t have to spur Gretchen to go faster. She tramples over the stock-still pair of legs blocking the way deeper into the cave. Steinburg did bleed out fast. Bones crack. Anna keeps her nose covered with the inside of her sleeve.

Once you reach the next ashen mark on the wall, Anna removes the sleeve and huffs out.

“Steinburg had an Axe?”

“And he was two meters tall. Just like the farmers at the creek said. I think we owe them something for pointing us towards the cave.”

Their advice could not have been more priceless.

“Let’s just hope Steinburg didn’t hit the Prince with this thing.”

“He didn’t,” you shake your head, still lightheaded. “The robbers want to go for ransom. They get more when he’s alive than dead or lethally injured.”

“Right. You said the same happened at the Hohenzollern brigade. I mean when you started there as commander, Milady.”

“Yeah, that case was similar. Someone tried to abduct the Duchess Walthilde.”

“Did the kidnappers succeed?”

“No. She was unscathed. One of my soldiers had retrieved her before it was too late.”

Another ash mark passes, guiding you into a narrower cave tunnel. Either horse goes slower, but you still have enough space to fit through.

“Really?”

“But the Duchess didn’t take it well. It haunted her for years. And that’s my only fear with Jimin. I don’t want to imagine how he ended up here. It’s been so long.”

At the entrance of the lacuna, Anna picks up a heeled shoe. It is unlike the one you’ve seen Jimin wear at the ball because it is so defiled with mud, with its sole torn off.

However, looking at the red heel, you know it is his.

“They will think Steinburg is back when they see the light. We have to watch out for other robbers in there,” Anna puts down the damaged shoe. If you didn’t already, you would start to feel nauseous at the mere sight. Stepping forward with cygnet drawn, you illuminate the lacuna. Anna limps behind you.

The cave room is filled with stacked, empty barrels. Some for gun powder, others for beer. All out of stock. You’re not surprised why Steinburg would have needed the ransom. You lift the lamp more only to spot piles of ammunition and large chunks of wood. There’s a fireplace with ashes and leftover chicken bones. It’s what they used to create the marks.

Gretchen and Friedrich stay at the entrance, with either you and Anna hoping they would stay still for once. The image of the shoe won’t leave your mind.

The sheer panic alone slows your steps.

After climbing through the pieces of wood, you already reach the end of the barrel front, sighing out.

“They’re all out riding. I don’t think Jimin is here either. Fuck.”

“If they were here and heard your fight with Steinburg, they would have come out anyways.”

“Yeah, the lacuna isn’t far away from the spot where we fought. The echo is stronger here, too. They would have been alerted.”

The cave room is considerably warm, and large minus the empty stocks now that you think about it. An ideal hideout.

“They use cowardly long distance weapons,” Anna comments, browsing the scattered materials on the rough ground. She picks up a few of the pistols and investigates them from all sides. Only few of them seem to be loaded at all.

“I’ve become cowardly as well,” you gaze back to the horses where your bow and arrow are. How many ludicrous straw men they have shot at Altfried Castle. You can only laugh at yourself.

“No, arrows are practical,” Anna shakes her head, turning the pistol upside down, then shaking it back and forth. You can hear what she means. “But these guns right here are loaded with everything but real powder or bullets.”

They use spikes and all sorts of metal bits, rattling inside the weapon.

“Amateurs. It won’t even fire properly. You can tell they’re broke. And that is cowardly.”

“God. You would think someone like Steinburg would amass tons of money.”

You sway the lamp towards the barrels.

“Tons of mediocre beer, you mean.”

Anna scrunches up her face.

“That’s why he smells so damn bad. I don’t know how you could stand that up close, Milady Y/N.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

Your stomach still feels uneasy.

“The wimp really was that rotten.”

“His aim was rather poor as well,” you say. “Jimin might have been lucky. What I saw was not the monstrous Erik Steinburg the peasants were talking about. He bled out faster than a cow.”

“Maybe that was a bad idea. We could have forced him to tell us where the Prince is.”

“It seemed like he was keeping him around here to me. Unless they were trying to lead us into a trap.”

“No,” Anna shakes her head. “With the grey shirt guy dead, and Steinburg? They missed their opportunity. And as we said. They’re amateurs.”

Your voice turns dark.

“They did manage to kidnap the Prince, at least.”

Silence.

“Probably when he was sleeping. You can’t defeat the Prince of Bavaria awake. With these guns in particular. It was a nighttime thing.”

“That’s how they took his sword, you mean?”

And only days later, they sold it to Meier. It makes sense now.

“Yes. We have to keep searching.”

She puts down the pistol, adjusts her hat. You turn to shed light on the other corner of the cave where a particularly large wall off barrels towers. Again, you raise the lamp.

“Maybe we find something there, Anna.”

As you sheath Cygnet and shove one beer barrel in the stack to the side to create an opening, you see a moving shadow. Anna yelps out.

You retract your hand, four barrels come tumbling down to your left, making both of you jolt backwards. The lantern almost drops, but you manage to keep hold of it. The horses neigh at the entrance.

Now you see where the shadow came from.

Two bats flatter up to the ceiling of the cave room.

“My heart just stopped, Milady! Oh shit!”

Anna props herself up on one of the barrels that fell down. She still holds her foot.

You gaze upward to see the two small fuzzy animals nestle together between rocks, shielding themselves with their wings from the light.

“They’re harmless,” you soothe. “They’re more afraid of us than we are of them. We have some bats in the basement of Linderhof Palace as well—”

Suddenly, Anna tugs at your sleeve.

“Milady Y/N! Look!”

You turn.

“What’s wrong, Anna?”

“Behind the beer barrels!”

You flinch.

An opening.

Now you spot it, too. The four barrels that had fallen had revealed another hole in the wall, seemingly a tunnel. You scurry to squeeze through the stacks right away.

“He’s in there. He’s in there! I know it!”

Jimin.

Finally.

You are sure.

The dim tunnel is much smaller than the initial cave way, barely fitting a horse if it would ride through. Anna hurries right behind you, following the light, with you trying not to graze against the moist walls of the tunnel with Cygnet. At this point, you know that any person other than Jimin with the wrong intent would have an advantage coming from the lacuna, following you into the hole. You don’t want to think about it.

The lamp glints up. At the end of the tunnel’s first bit, you step into a wider space.

“An interval!”

You scan the area. All dripping wet rock. And colder. Less space. And in a far corner—

“They have more barrels over there.”

“We have to follow the tunnel!”

A few meters in and you realize that the cave walls become even more narrow. Gretchen wouldn’t fit through anymore. And by the flicker on the wall, you realize. You’re in trouble.

“The lantern!”

Its white candle has almost reached the very bottom of the attachment. You look back, then forward, to see how far you’ve come, and how far you can go. An actual tail of the tunnel is still not visible. Anna rummages inside her vest.

“It’s not the best time to pull out a snack!”

“Milady.”

A candle stub. She’s picked it up at the fireplace, or where the ammunition was.

“You gem!”

“Quick, exchange them before there’s no fire anymore!”

The end of the tunnel is not a true end, but a slight depression that ends in a furrow. With the new candle in place, you can gawk far enough down the hollow, and curse yourself. Of course.

“There’s no way Steinburg would have even fit through the majority of the last meters! For fuck’s sake, we’re dumb!”

“It doesn’t even branch out, look!”

She’s right. The tunnel is a dead end. With Jimin nowhere near. If they find you now, you’re done for.

“Back, quick! Back, Anna!”

The walls are not even broad enough for a proper strike of Cygnet. Not a centimeter there to dodge a slice either. And every pistol shot: Not even an amateur would miss.

“Shit!”

Running is hardly possible. Anna’s foot looks dangerously slanted with every step. The candlelight threatens to go out if you do, swaying around the fluid wax too much around the wick and flame.

Cygnet regularly scratches against the cave wall, carving dents into its sheath. You curse more when Anna almost falls because of the wet ground. Helping her find balance again with a tug at her shoulder, you see that the interval room is already back in sight.

Still too far inside the tunnel.

When you reach it, Anna fully trips. You crouch down to pull her upward by her arms that you hear it.

A thudding noise.

No, a knock.

Two times. Three times. You almost black out with the shock and fall down next to Anna. The thudding continues.

Those aren’t bats.

But human noises.

Echoing. Echoing. Echoing.

You can barely unsheath your blade that the knocking turns dull. Cygnet remains stuck inside its casing. Your arms are heavy. The gnarly feeling in your stomach gets worse.

It doesn’t stop.

More thuds.

You raise the lantern to brighten up the tunnel.

“They’re not here yet. We can still hide. Get up! Come on!”

Both of you scramble off the floor. Anna’s shirt is ripped up at the waist.

The knocks turn louder, and slower.

“Come over, Y/N!” Anna limps toward the barrels, opening the very first one in sight. She climbs inside with the lid in her right hand. “Give me the lantern, I put out the candle! The robbers will see the light!”

Ceasing knocks. The horses are raucous at the entrance of the lacuna. Your state of panic rises even more. Everything within your mind screams.

The lantern fades out with one blow. You can hear Anna place the candle container at the bottom, then, feel her grab for your hands to pull you inside. Within a matter of seconds and one foot in, you realize that the barrel is too small for both of you.

“Take another barrel! Fast!”

You drag your foot out, then grope for anything to hold onto in the other direction where you believe another barrel to stand. Anna closes the lid of hers, making you flinch before you realize what she did because of the sound.

Finally. A wooden surface underneath your fingertips. Fumbling, you realize that the barrel you found is decently large. Ripping off its cover strains your arms, but you manage to get a foot inside, careful, then another. You detach Cygnet from your belt, stuff it into the barrel, then crouch inside and pull the lid in place overhead with trembling arms.

And then you sit.

Exhale—

There’s a breath that’s not yours.

Deep and heavy.

Right before you.

You’re scared stiff. No movement.

Until your mind catches up.

The robbers have been waiting for you inside the barrels.

And Steinburg—

Was just a ploy.

A savage blow toward the other end of the barrel with your fist. Miss.

You kick your legs forward. The first passes the aim, the other tangents what you believe to be a torso. But still, no hit. The barrel shakes. Another strike, this time, with your elbow. You can’t land it. It goes into nowhere.

Now you understand that whoever is at the other end crouches.

A lunge. You quickly make out where the body is, clamp it between your legs. You seize at it with the last bit of force left in your arms. Shake.

And realize it’s bare skin.

With a familiar scent.

Whimpering emerges from below you.

Then, a sob.

You let go.

The knocking came from the barrel. This very barrel.

“Jimin!”

Sniffles. Heavy breaths. You feel your way to the spot where you believe his head to be.

“Jimin, oh my god!”

His wet face melts into your palms. Yes. It is Jimin. You would recognize him at the end of the world.

But something—

Obstructs his jaw. You grab at the back of his head. A heavy piece of cloth, fixated around his head like a gag.

“I get this off, I get this off!”

Tugging at the knot doesn’t help. It’s tightly bound in place. Your hands, feverish, search for Cygnet inside the barrel. You loosen the hilt only centimeters out of the sheath as not to draw out the entire blade. This time, it works. Your sword has never been more intuitive when you fell down with Anna just minutes ago and it wouldn’t react at all. But now it does.

“Don’t move!”

You glide the exposed edge of the sabre across the back of his head to cleave the piece of cloth at its surface. By the ripping sound, you know that it is cotton. The rest of the gag opens with a tug through either of your hands pulling in opposite directions. Once loose, you toss away the cloth and cup his face.

Between cries, a hoarse, almost nonexistent voice.

“You came,” it murmurs. “You came...”

It breaks your heart. Jimin’s tone is so faint.

You feel his hand at your knee. Reaching down to grab it, you realize that his hands are bound, too. It is the same fabric you remember from countless fights. The neckerchief.

It comes off with an abrupt tug of your digits clawing into the knot.

Jimin’s hands close around you while you bow down to kiss his forehead. Under your thumb, his lips and chin feel coarse and dry. The hair you bury your nose in is soaking wet with sweat and your tears.

No trace of your hands goes without feeling a sore spot on his body. Where once his coat of mail led firmly, you can feel his ribcage. You can’t stop crying.

Loosening the remaining ropes on his body leaves another hot tear on your face with every knot until the shackles are wide enough for you to get his legs out. Much like his torso, not one layer of clothing protects them from the cold of the barrel.

“I thought it wasn’t real.”

His words are nothing but a whisper.

“What, Jimin?”

“I heard your voice in the cave. I’ve had all these dreams.”

“Jimin, I’m here. We heard your knocks. I’m here. We’ll get out of here now. Hold tight.”

You wrap one arm around his waist, so lithe, you fear it breaks. With the hilt of Cygnet, you smash upward to tilt the lid off the barrel. It comes down tumbling. You attach the sword at your belt again as swift, no, as far as the darkness of the room permits.

One leg out, you exit the barrel first, then lift Jimin over the edge, leaving behind cut ropes, cloth, and the neckerchief.

He must have dropped at least a fifth of his weight. No second passes that your hands do not grip on him. He keeps on wincing. You caress his upper back with a flat palm.

“We’ll go home soon, Jimin. It’s over. We’re home soon. Steinburg is dead. I’m here now.”

“Is, is dead?”

Another whimper at your neck. You curse yourself for saying his name.

“Anna came with me. She’s in the other barrel. I’ll call for her and get her out slowly, okay.”

Anna audibly limps close before you, almost crawling alongside the cave wall. Jimin, encased in the embrace of your right arm, cries into the shroud of your vest that you gave him.

“They’ll find us,” he weeps. “They’ll hurt us!”

“They can’t. I’m here.”

You can hear Anna curse meters before you where the cave way broadens.

“My ankle,” she groans.

“We’re not leaving you behind.”

Her voice is so serene now, it makes you feel even colder.

“You have to.”

“Stop that.”

Jimin leans crouched at your chest. His voice is almost a whisper.

“You said you had horses.”

Anna halts, as do you. Same thought. Of course.

“God fucking dammit.”

“We have.”

You cover Jimin’s ears, then whistle. Loud.

A noise emerges. Friedrich's hooves clatter in the distance.

“I’m sorry. I reek of vomit.”

Centimeter by centimeter, you pull him upwards, until he is settled on Gretchen’s back. It has taken ages to saddle up yourself. The cave is so dark, not one spark of light seeps through the rock and earth. Jimin clings tight to you leaning back, seated sideways on the horseback. Shuddering.

“I shouldn’t have left Castle Linderhof this way.”

“Jimin. Neither you nor me can change that now. But I’ll fix this.”

Gretchen starts to trot forwards, followed by Friedrich. You duck as not to hit the tunnel ceiling with your head.

“That was so stupid,” Jimin grits.

Seizing the reins tight, you remember the flock of peasants that you encountered following the creek.

“The blame belongs to those who spread news that you were running from the Palace by yourself without a horse. Where did the robbers find you?”

“It was an ambush. I don’t know where it was. It was nighttime.”

He’s shivering. Gretchen goes a little faster.

“We figured.”

“They put a gun to my head.”

Jimin falls silent, and you bring, as well as holding the reins permits, an arm around his upper body.

The noise of Gretchen’s hooves resounds much louder now. Friedrich’s, too. You’ve reached the lacuna.

Which slowly begins to illuminate from where its entrance locates.

Once she sees it, Anna violently tugs at Friedrich’s reins to make him turn. The light comes closer. Voices become audible. Jimin freezes in your arms. The bats at the ceiling crawl further into the fissures of the cave room’s dome.

You glide your left arm, around Jimin just seconds before, down Gretchen’s side. Reaching into the quiver deep, deeper, to bring out four arrows, then disjunct the bow from its joist. Anna wants to beckon you toward the tunnel opening, but you already draw the bow’s string tight.

“Y/N!”

“No going back. We’re playing my absolute favorite game.”

“What are you doing! Y/N! What—”

“The maidens at Altfried Castle would have found it quite amusing.”

Half the lacuna is tinted yellow by now, casting light on the bruises scattered all over Jimin’s face, neck, wrists, ankles, and chest.

“Come back to the tunnel! Milady, they carry pistols!”

Anna is on the verge of entering the hole again.

“I could care less.”

“We have no chance!”

“It’s my favorite game. I just came up with it. Do you want to know how it’s called?”

“Y/N, stop messing around!”

While Jimin ducks forward onto the mane of Gretchen, you sort the four arrows between the fingers of your right, then align them on your bow.

“It’s called the One-Each-Eye.”

Carefree and unimpressed by the weather, the beer barrel dances back and forth strapped somewhat loosely to the back of the carriage. Pine trees dancing alongside the way accompany the vehicle headed south. It’s still cold.

Chewing on a bit of cabbage, Anna, for a reason mysterious to you and especially the carriage vendor, has made Friedrich and Gretchen sprint faster without a single click of the whip. Her foot is tied with a sturdy band that you purchased at the market two days ago with about the very last mark from Jimin’s stolen purse that Anna, brave how she was, had managed to retrieve from Steinburg’s belt.

Inside the wooden chassis, the pattering rain is loud enough to disturb your sleep, but gladly, not Jimin’s. The Prince dozes with his mouth half open, and, at least in your imagination, with a giant woven scarf tucked around his neck. At least a blanket from the family at the mill covers him waist-down, scraggly, but clean and thick enough to do its job. The pair of linen shoes that they had left are far too big for him, at least three sizes. Every other hundred meters, a rock on the path makes the wheels judder. However, Anna is clever enough to subtly maneuver Friedrich and Gretchen around the chunkier stones and scattered bosk.

The wind is relentless, and you brood. The forest landscapes passing by look dizzy under the rain. Saying goodbye to the Duke through a herald had been hard enough, but necessary. The youngster at the mill, Meier’s son, had accepted your hat as payment and assured he would reach Altfried Castle in half an hour with your letter to the Duke in his rugged vest. The message reading a farewell—

And that Cinder had returned to its rightful owner.

Looking at Jimin’s hands, blotted purple at the wrist upward, makes you want to cry. When he wakes up during the next rocky bit of the path, you have to stop yourself yelling out of the carriage to scold Anna. The surrounding meadow still hasn’t dried up properly, so you realize that avoiding this bit of the road by going over grass is not an option.

Jimin still has dark bags under his eyes. The soup at the mill had brought back some rosy life to his cheeks, but they still look so haggard, so taut and scratched, with stubble all over, that you find it hard to recognize him.

The sky turns grey and pale with every minute that the carriage plunges deeper into the forest terrain. South, south. Never looking back. You grope for the quiver stored under your seat, look for the apple that Meier had given you at Castle Altfried, and hand it to Jimin.

“The doctors will take care of you, okay,” you lean toward him, and tighten the vest around his chest to withstand the wind. “We’re back home soon. Maybe even one day.”

Chewing at a corner of the red fruit, Jimin looks outside the carriage with glossed over eyes.

“I’ve been dreaming again,” he says.

“What was it about?”

“There was a festival. I don’t know. A kind of fair. We were dancing. I thought about this all the time.”

A little smile plays around his lips. His eyes are candid.

“We will dance, Jimin. I give you my word. I promise we will dance.”

The vehicle continues to rumble down the path with your words, and the horses speed up.

Three hours later, two sturdy knights, the Prussian emblem stuck to their coat of mails, open the carriage from either side.

— to be continued —

Thank you for reading. Stay tuned.

301 notes · View notes

some-cookie-crumbz · 5 years

Text

Roll the Dice

Roll the Dice - Kidge Month Day 15 and Day 17 Prompt Fill Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Kidge Summary: Combining Day 15 and 17 since they were going to be connected either way. Just some fin involving games and Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.

Days of travel had left all of them worn to the bone and ready for a bit of rest. She wasn’t normally one to complain about the idea of having to rough it in the woods, but even she had her limits. The need for a comfortable shelter only became more apparent as fat, dark clouds loomed over them ominously. When they reached the top of the path leading them along, the distant flickering of town lights felt so comforting that she would have wept. Beside her, she could feel Faylinn trembling with giddiness, the other young woman clearly just as giddy. “Oh, please tell me this town is on the map,” Block pleaded, reaching into one of the many pockets of his robes. He spread the map out and squealed. “Praise the ancients, it is!”

“What town is it?” Pike asked, peering over the other man’s shoulder.

“Alezxan,”

“Oh, I’ve heard of that place before,” Jiro chimed in. A small smile turned up on his lips. “They say it’s a well-known merchant’s town, with plenty of goods necessary for guilds.”

“I just can’t wait until I have a chance to rest,” Faylinn commented, carefully reach out for her long silver ponytail. Her fingers stroked mournfully over the very edges, which were charred black as night. “I need a night where I don’t smell like sulfur and stomach acid, and have a chance to fix this damage.”

“Such are the risks when dealing with dragons,” Jiro said with a small chuckle.

She pinned him with a fierce glare over her shoulder. “Which was why Block and I suggested we take on the escort assignment,” she groused. She then indicated the young caster with a nod of her head. “And have you seen what that beast did to his staff?”

His staff had a huge chunk taken out of the fine wood, with jagged claw and smaller scorch marks decorating what remained of the curve at the end. “Yeah, still not happy about that,” he commented quietly, rolling the map back up and tucking it away.

“But the dragon mission ended up paying out way better,” she herself chimed in with a sly grin.

“Greedy little dwarf,” Faylinn muttered under her breath.

“Meklavar’s right, though! With how much of a profit we turned on besting that overgrown lizard, you can buy a new staff! A better staff!” Pike encouraged.

“I liked my old staff,” he grumbled with a small huff.

“But I’m sure you’d like a new staff with, say, a Gulonian crystal in it a whole lot too, right?” Meklavar suggested with a sly grin.

That gave Block pause. “Well, if it had a Gulonian crystal, I guess I could like a staff like that,”

“We could all use new equipment, honestly,” Jiro commented, casting a glance at the hilt of his sword, strung along his back. The leather of it was tattered and frayed, sticking out in various places. Inside its sheath, his sword was also rather beaten down from the battle, receiving a sizeable chink on one side. “Which, considering where we are, sounds like the perfect place to do that.”

“See, there ya go!” Pike hummed before a shudder coursed through him, causing his tail to fluff up. He stole a fervent glance up at the plump storm clouds before starting to hurry along the path, ears flattened against his head. “But for now, let’s get somewhere warm and dry before the storm starts up.”

“Aw, poor little kitty doesn’t like the idea of getting his feet wet?” Meklavar teased.

He scowled at her, tail lashing. “Oh, so you mean to tell me you actually want to spend a night waterlogged?” When her only answer was the faltering of her grin, his pout turned into an amused grin. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

With Pike taking the lead, they rushed down along the path and into town proper. They were able to find a reasonably priced inn just as the first few droplets of water fell, paying for two rooms and five meals. As they headed off to the bar attached to the inn, though, Meklavar noticed the young lady working the front desk cast a frantic glance out the window as the downpour really started up. She cast it off as perhaps her being worried about making the trek home in less than desirable conditions and followed her group along.

The meal was good not in taste, but simply in the fact that it was hot and fresh. They all had themselves a little too much ale, with Block and Jiro partaking so much they made complete fools of themselves. They danced and sang atop the tables, spurned on further by the cheers of the other bar patrons. When the festivities for the night ended, Pike and Meklavar had to lug a wobbling, babbling Block back up to their room, while Faylinn carried Jiro over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Once the settled the boys in their own room, she and Faylinn headed back to their own. They took turns using the adjacent washroom to clean up before bed, and as Meklavar slipped under the cover5s for the night, she stole a glance at her own axe, propped against the wall beside her bed. The blunt side of her axe was barely holding up the now-dulled blade, ready to give way and completely splinter from the weight at a moment’s notice. It would only last an incredibly small, incredibly simple mission, if she were lucky.

This, honestly, was the exact opposite of what they needed with their Guild just starting to develop a name for itself.

After their first grand adventure as a team, they decided to continue collaborating to assist one another with their aims. The most effective way, obviously, was to form a Guild and take on assignments as necessary. So, Sky Lion Guild was formed with the path of funding their respective missions as well. Thus far, their reputation was growing well, known for being rather skilled and successful for a tin class Guild. After that mission with the dragon, they’d been promoted to cinder class, which was a great honor, but came with its own host of new expectations. They would all need to step up their game, improve their skills and, obviously, replace their damaged equipment with ones of better quality.

She flopped over on her side, dozing off to the debate of what kind of mineral she’d like best in a new axe blade.

The next morning, Block and Jiro were slow and unpleasant to wake, feeling the backlash of their festive evening full force. They did perk up a bit when it was pointed out that they could hit the market and see what kind of wares the merchants had to offer. When they reached the lobby, however, they were greeted by the rain continuing on. The clerk informed them that, given the weather, it was unlikely any merchants would have set up shop in the bazaar, worried about the rain water ruining the quality of their goods. They waved it off, deciding they’d simply go the next morning, once the rain had let up, and instead headed to get themselves breakfast.

But the rain continued on the next day. And the day after that. And the day after. And the day after that.

“This is ridiculous,” Faylinn complained, arms crossed and pressed as far back against her seat at their table as she could get. “This weather is becoming rather bothersome.”

“Bothersome seems like a bit of an understatement. It’s keeping us from being able to purchase the goods we need,” Block chimed in before taking a small sip of his water-filled mug. After the theatrics of the other night, he had sworn of the ale cold turkey. “Plus, being trapped her is draining our funds much faster than we planned.”

“Well, why don’t we just move along to the next town, then? Surely they would have some merchants looking to sell,” Faylinn suggested.

“Can’t. The only logged path from here to the next town is through a road that cuts along the mountains, but it’s been closed down due to the risk of landslides. We could try to cut through the mountains outside of the designated path, but then we run the risk of getting lost without a guide. Also, our weapons aren’t in much of a state to defend us from much more than a disgruntled kitten,” Meklavar sighed.

“Well, it’s not like we can do anything about the weather,” Pike snorted, reclined in his own seat as if he owned the joint. His feet were propped up and crossed at the ankles atop the table, arms crossed behind his head to work as a makeshift pillow, and eyes closed as if he were merely napping. He peeked one open, the blue seeming brighter in his excitement, to look at their caster. “Unless you have some kind of trick up your sleeve that could help dispel this, pal?”

“With the state my staff is in? Hard pass,” he answered, shaking his head. Pike’s ears drooped and he heaved a loud sigh. “I mean, I could try, but it would most likely end with the spell backfiring directly on all of us. Which would be less than ideal.”

“Besides, we shouldn’t be using Block’s magic to resolve issues as mundane as some unfortunate weather,” Jiro added.

“Unless this is more than just a simple storm,” Meklavar pointed out, leaning in closer to her associates.

Block, Faylinn and Jiro all perked up and leaned closer as well, catching on to what she was hinting at. Pike, however, remained in his position, reclined and seemingly at ease. His ears, however, sat straight upright and his eyes were open just a slit, monitoring those around them for any suspicious behavior. “You think there’s more going on in this town that what it seems?” Faylinn asked quietly.

She nodded. “Do you remember the young woman who checked us in for our rooms? Something about her reaction to the storm seemed strange. It seemed as if she was afraid of the rain itself,” she explained.

“Ah, I noticed that. Broke my heart to see such a lovely young woman seem so unnerved,” Pike lamented lightly.

They all silently agreed to ignore his input and continue on.

“Couldn’t it just be a matter of storms being uncommon around here?” Block suggested.

“I considered that, but the reaction and what we know of this place don’t add up to that. I mean, if they rarely get storms,” she said, “then wouldn’t they be excited about the coming rains? To replenish their crops and water stores and such? Additionally, this place is a renowned trading hub! This implies they have to have a decent enough supply of foods and goods to warrant people stopping by, which wouldn’t make sense if they didn’t get enough storms to maintain their crops well enough to allow as many visitors as they undoubtedly see.”

“Maybe they bring in their crops using the money they make?”

“Then why would they have signs posted informing people of which farms can be located where along the edges of town?” Silence followed her last point, their whole group exchanging looks. “I don’t have any damning proof of what I think is happening, but the idea that something else is causing this weather seems rather plausible.”

“You think they’ve had some kind of hex laid upon them?” Jiro asked.

“Maybe. Like I said, I’m not completely sure, but it seems plausible. We need more information from someone in town, though,”

Pike swept his legs of the table and let out a small sigh, pushing himself to stand. “Well, I guess I’ll go do some investigating then. It’s the same woman at the front today as when we first arrived. I’m sure that I can get her to let me know what’s going on with a little finesse,” he hummed, stretching and arching his back until he got a little pop.

“Pike,” Jiro trailed off strictly.

“Just… Be careful. The last thing we need is for your incredibly involved approach to interrogations getting us kicked out of a town,” Faylinn trailed, fists clenched on the tabletop, “again.”

He tensed a bit. “That was a fluke! And a learning experience! Now I know to only use a small fraction of my full charisma on the unsuspecting beauties of the world,” He said.

“That or at least be the one who actually takes it on the chin when your ‘unsuspecting beauty’ turns out to have a very angry ogre husband,” Jiro grumbled.

“In my defense, he didn’t tell me he had a husband! I would never flirt with someone who’s spoken for, regardless of how magnificent,” And, with that, he headed out of the bar and back towards the main lobby.

While they waited, they chatted about this or that, stories from their past and their goals for the future. At one point, Jiro and Faylinn broke off to play a rousing game of throwing knives with a few of the other patrons. She spent the time trying to sharpen her axe to a respectable cut, only to be sorely disappointed. The sooner the rain let up, the better.

It took far too long to be reasonable before Pike returned.

His headband and hair were disheveled, face screwed up in a look of goofy satisfaction. He fell into his seat with a contented sigh, tossing one arm along the back while the other dangled in the air beside him. For a moment he just stared at all of them. “Well?” Block asked after Pike said nothing immediately.

“Meklavar was right; the town’s been cursed,” he said loftily.

“Okay, but by what?” she asked with a small huff. She had to resist the urge to grab her axe and knock the legs out from under his chair. He was holding up their progress with his lax behavior.

“I guess there’s some crotchety old mage who lives in a tower up on the mountain,” he said, indicating out the window with a tip of his head. It was hard to see through the pouring rain and dark clouds, but she thought she could just make out the shape of a building far in the distance. “He came down to try and pedal some of his cursed goods in the bazaar a few days before we got here. When they turned him away, he threw a temper tantrum and said they’d pay, that he ruined their whole town for anyone who visited it. Pretty typical for those finicky caster types, though.”

“Hey!” Block squawked.

“You’re not a finicky caster type, dude!”

“That’s still rude of you to say!”

“Oh, whatever! You guys should just be grateful I was able to convince the mayor that our guild could handle it!” He huffed.

And, with that, Meklavar finally turned her axe around to slam the blunt side right against the leg, sending him toppling over in a graceless heap with an equally graceless yowl. “You’re a complete moron!” she shrieked.

“What part of you, exactly, thought signing us up for another mission was a good idea?” Faylinn joined in, slamming her hands down on the table and standing.

“Seriously, dude? That warlock will take us down in, like, two seconds flat! Did you forget about the sad state all of our equipment is in?” Block pointed out as well.

“Which is why I was able to negotiation the terms of our agreement with them, geez!” Pike snapped back as he hoisted himself back on to his feet. He dusted himself off as well. “You guys act like I have no idea what I’m doing here! In agreement for taking on the assignment without a formal request being submitted, they’re going to have us given the best equipment available to complete the task! They’ve also agreed that, assuming we succeed, they’ll refund us for two of the nights we stayed at the inn!”

“Not a full refund?” Meklavar commented.

Pike side-eyed her skeptically. “Greedy little dwarf,”

Jiro let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “Anyway, those negotiations are all well and good, but are they going to allow us passage through the blocked path? Or provide us with a guide who can?”

The other stopped at that, ears tipping downward. “Uh, no. See, the rain is coming down a lot worse closer to where the mage lives. Most likely as some kind of defense from any potential attacks by the village. As a result, the whole path is bogged down by mud and tree branches and such. No way we can get around that,”

“So we have no safe way of getting up there?” Block asked worriedly.

“Not quite, young warriors,” An old, withered voice chimed in. They were greeted by the sight of a well-dressed man with a long, braided beard and little reading glasses. His hair was mostly snow white, though there were traces of a fading orange hue to a few patches. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Rocan, the mayor of this fine town.”

Jiro rose and bowed politely. “It’s a great privilege to meet you, sir,” he began, “but I am afraid our friend may have agreed to your terms too hastily. Our equipment is far too damaged to take on such a task, and none of us are familiar with the terrain leading up to where the cruel mage rests.”

“The equipment matter is one we have offered to fix,” he answered, “and while I cannot guarantee it, there may be someone who can get you up to the mage’s keep.”

Faylinn and Meklavar exchanged glances. “What do you mean by that, exactly, sir?” Faylinn ponder cautiously.

“There is one who lives outside our village, on the first peak of the mountain range to the east,” he said. “He has lived there many years, living off the land and traveling how he sees fit. No one else in this area will know the uncharted paths anywhere near as well as he. If you can convince him to assist your brigade, I have no doubt he’ll be able to show you the way.”

“There’s a lot of ‘ifs’ in that statement,” Meklavar pointed out.

“He is a bit of a hermit, despite his young age. He rarely ever visits town, and when he does it is typically very briefly,”

“So he’s a recluse,” Jiro said.

“Meaning the likelihood of him helping is slim,” Block agreed.

“Well, it’s better than nothing!” Pike insisted. He then tossed his head back a bit, flashing them one of his smoldering grins. “And, if need be, I can always put some of the old charm to use.”

“Do us all a favor and don’t,” Meklavar scoffed, rising fully from her seat. “Though, I will admit that Pike has a point; we don’t know if they’ll help us unless we try asking.”

Faylinn nodded before looking over at the mayor again. “We will go seek them out once we have the equipment necessary, then,” she agreed.

They were guided through the wet, muddy streets of town up to town hall, where a few of the most prominent merchants in town were gathered. They were given a bit of time to test out a few options, select the ones they found most agreeable, and then they headed out. They had to take their time and be careful, even though the rain was just a bit less severe in the direction they were going. It was still a rather steep climb, but after a good few hours of travel, they could see the hermit’s lodge not too far off in the distance.

But that was when they heard the first cry of a lone wolf not far off in the distance.

Faylinn paused, slipping one hand up to carefully grab one of the silver-tipped arrows from her quiver. “You all heard how close that was, right?” There was a pause between her words, in which a responding howl echoed from somewhere behind them. She whipped around, pulling her arrow back partially in preparation.

“But the question then becomes is it just the two, or is there a whole pack waiting to strike?” Jiro whispered back, hand clenched tight around the hilt of his new sword.

“Or, there’s also the risk they’re more than just normal wolves, but shifters,” Meklavar agreed, hefting her axe up to rest partially against her shoulder.

“Why can’t it ever be easy?” Block lamented quietly, the Gulonian crystal in the center of his new staff beginning to glow dimly, charging up some of his magic in preparation for an attack.

“Because that would be bo-! Ack!” Pike yowled before a large form slammed right into him. He growled, rummaging to get one of the paralysis balls he’d gotten, only for whatever was on top of him to jump back with a snarl. It hopped back until it stood beside another looming shape covered in a dark pelt. “Looks like it’s a shifter, guys!”

“Who are you mistaking for a shifter, miserable cat?” The larger figure spat, reaching up to carefully push back what seemed to be their head. Which, if they were, in fact, a shifter they shouldn’t have been able to do. When the hood slumped back, they were greeted by a pale face sporting two burgundy red marks along their cheeks, dark eyes with gleaming yellow pupils, and pointed ears.

A gasp left Faylinn. “A dark elf?”

“Half,” He answered brusquely. He paused to stare at each of them in turn. “Who are you, and what are you doing so close to my abode?”

“Your abode? So you’re the hermit of the hill?” Meklavar asked.

He scoffed. “Is that how they’re choosing to call me now? How impolite,” he then reached up to pull his hood back up. “My name is Yorak. And this is my companion, Gévaudan.”

The wolf beside his let out a small huff.

“No! Wait! Hold up!” Lance suddenly squawked, standing up and holding his arms up in an X in front of his chest.

Keith let out an annoyed look. “What’s your damage?”

“We aren’t seriously going to let your dog have a character in this, are we?” he asked, casting a glance at Coran.

The old Altean merely toyed with the end of his mustache thoughtfully. “Well, if no one else has a problem with it, and he can roll in situations... I don’t see why not,”

“I’m cool with it,” Pidge herself shrugged.

“Indeed. Keith seems rather adept at translating Kosmo’s desires, so it should be fine,” Allura agreed.

“Plus, look at this face! Such a sweet, lovable little guy!” Hunk crooned, gently smooshing the wolf’s fluffy face and booping his nose with his own.

Shiro sighed and shook his head. “Look, so long as Kosmo doesn’t get wild, it should be fun. But can we please get back to the game?”

Lance harrumped while Keith smirked at him, holding the dice out to the others. “Who wants to roll to see if you can coerce me into your group?” he teased.

Pidge smirked and took them from him. “Get ready to be our little slave, dweebo emo,”

#Voltron legendary defender #Keidge #Kidge #Peith #Kidgemas #MonthofKidge #MonthofKidge2019 #KidgeaPalooza #KidgeaPalooza2019 #Pidge Gunderson #Keith Kogane #my fics

40 notes · View notes

littlemisssquiggles · 5 years

Note

For being “a like-minded soul” Oscar and Ozpin sure are pretty opposite. From their appearance and profession to the way Oscar wears his heart on his sleeve while Oz is fond of his secrets — have they ever even once agreed on anything? Do you think Oscar might be Ozpin’s foil?

Concept for Oscar’s Characer Short

HmmI’ve actually considered the times where the plot didn’t focus on them feudingwith each other and instead showed them compromising or coming to someagreement on something to be the closest thing to them being in agreement my Captain.

Let’snot forget that Oscar is only a teenager. He’s just fourteen years old.Fourteen is often described as the age where a child is now starting to developinto a young adult. At this age, teenagers are more or less impressionable and might be a lot more rebellious to rationalizewith than an adult. We saw an example of this back in V5 when Oscar wasunwilling to cooperate with Ozpin at first.

Westill don’t know what transpired to finally convince Oscar that leaving homewas the best option. I strongly disliked that the CRWBY Writers glossed overthis part since it could have helped fill the holes still left in Oscar’s sideof the story and provide the audience into a deeper insight on how he thinks.

Ifanything this is a question I can see answered in a possible future RWBY CharacterShort that focuses on both Professor Ozpin and Oscar.

IfI had to envision what a Man with Two Souls Character Trailer would look like, then I can see that short startingoff with the aftermath of the Cinder vs. Professor Ozpin duel, revealingexactly how Ozpin got killed. This could then lead into how Ozpin got paired upwith Oscar.

MyPineheadheadcanon is that Oscar dreamt ofthe night Professor Ozpin died during the Battle of Beacon andthat’s how the two were first paired together. I described this theory of minein full detail in RWBY Musing #61. Thegist of it was that Oscar basically had a similar experience to Young Sora from Kingdom Hearts Birth By Sleep. When Ozpin died,his soul unexpectedly connected with that of Oscar Pine although Oscar mainlyviewed it as all a dream. A dream where he was walking through the remnants ofa burning vault being led by a mysterious voice who was begging for help.

Inhis dream, Oscar met Ozpin who needed help and being the good-natured soul thathe was, Oscar agreed to aid Ozpin and that’s when the two were fused. But sinceit was a dream, the next morning when Oscar woke up with a start, he had norecollection of the event.

The next time he isreminded of Ozpin is when Ozpin speaks to him the first time. Another headcanon I have is that Oscar didn’t just ups and leave home without his aunt’sknowledge. I’d like to at least hope that Aunt Em or whatever hercanon name will be (granted we ever learn of it at all) is fully aware that hernephew left home to go train to be a huntsman.

Asa matter of fact, my hunch is that Oscar, not wishing to lie to his auntie,actually tried to tell her that he wanted to leave home to go to Mistral.However, Aunt Em being overprotective ofher young nephew forbade Oscar to leave home voicing the dangers of the outsideworld and that it would be much better if Oscar stayed home where he could besafe.

Andat first, Oscar complied with his Aunt Em not wishing to upset her any furtherdespite Ozpin’s disapproval. It wasn’t until one of those occasional small Grimm that Oscar mentioned back in V5 wandered onto theirfarm on night did Aunt Em realize the error of her words.

Bymy imagination, let’ssay one night while his Aunt Em wasoutside, a wild Alpha Beowulf and it’s pack wandered onto the farm. Usuallywhen the Grimm arrive, Oscar and Aunt Em would either shoot them down if theywere small fry or hide away in the barn if they were too menacing. Usually ifthey’re lucky they always get the single Grimm. However this particular night—witha full moon lingering in the night sky, an entire pack arrived. Unfortunatelyfor the Pines, they could neither hide nor shoot the Beowolves. Oscar and his aunt were outnumberedand completely outmatched and if Oscar didn’t do something, they’d bothbe killed.

So in a daring feat,Oscar bravely challenges the wolves to protect his family and home despite hisaunt’s outcries of fear. Of course, in the end, Oscar is easily overpowered.The entire time, Ozpin is yelling inside Oscar’s mind to allow the old soul toaid the young boy.

But Oscar stubbornly ignores him still trying to do it on his own. Itwas only when a wolf had Aunt Em by the throat did Oscar finally give intoOzpin’s assistance sparking the very first moment the two switched souls. In asimilar fashion to Ozma’s first encounter with the Grimm in his second life as Diggs,Ozpin easily relinquished all of the Beowolves. Not a single one was left torun away as Ozpin decimated them all.

Theentire time this is happening, Aunt Em just stared; completely awestruck.From her perspective she saw Oscar taking downthe wolves and not the century’s old experienced huntsman possessing his body.Once the fight was over, Ozpin’s limit is up and he recedes back into Oscar’shead. And as soon as he does, Oscar collapses and since his body wasn’t used tothe overexertion he falls unconscious withAunt Em immediately rushing to his side.

Thenext day, Oscar wakes up to find himself resting on the couch in his aunt’shouse. As he is adjusting, Aunt Em brings him some supper. Apparently thespectacle from the night before had left Oscar so fatigued that he nearly sleptthe whole next day. The two then have a talk; what would be one of their last conversations.Basically it ends with Aunt Em giving Oscar her blessing to leave to home;implying that she’s always looked out for him because that’s the promise shemade to Oscar’s mother after she took him in.

However Aunt Emunderstood that Oscar wasn’t a child anymore. He was growing up and part ofgrowing up is leaving the nest to forge your own path. Aunt Em understood thatshe couldn’t keep Oscar sheltered all the time but what she could do was givehim the chance to go learn to take care of himself. In a nutshell, Aunt Em toldOscar that it he wanted to go be a huntsman then he was free to leave; just solong as he writes to her from time to time just to ease her heart on how he wasdoing. Oscar makes this promise and he and his aunt share a hug before spendingtheir last night together as a family.

Youknow that shot of Oscar looking back at the barn before adjusting his backpackand leaving back in V4? Well I’d like to think that he wasn’t just looking backat the barn but also his Aunt Pine who had woken up in time to see him leave.So as Oscar goes, she wipes one tear from her face before giving him one silentwave goodbye.

Oscar then makes hisdeparture and the rest as we know is history. The scene then cuts to thepresent day where our heroes are docking in Atlas. As everyone piles out of theairship to enter into the kingdom, Oscar takes a minute to look back at the nightsky.

Asof now, he is further from home than he’d ever been in his life and in thatmoment, his mind thought of his Aunt Em. He flashes back to a memory of him andhis aunt sitting together on their front porch enjoying some dessert and eachother’s company as they viewed the lovely sky—the same sky Oscar was lookingat.

Atthis point Ruby notices Oscar’s pause. She calls out to him and touches hisshoulder lightly which stirs him from his absentmindedness. Ruby being Ruby asks Oscar if he was okay. He gives her the answershe would expect—a nonchalant yes of reassurance. Ruby then puts two and twotogether and asks Oscar if being in Atlas is making him think of home.

Oscar’sresponse this time is:

“…A littlebit but…I’m right where I need tobe.”

Hethen smiles at Ruby who returns the gesture. She then places a hand on Oscar’sshoulder and together, the two walk into Atlas for the start of their nextadventure.

That’show I would envision A Man with Two Souls orOzpin-Oscar or even OZ-Car Character Short. It would be perfect if the nextcharacter trailer for V7 is one for Oscar and Ozpin. It’d be interesting if wereceived two new character trailers for V7.

I’mstill banking on their being a time skip for the start of V7, just speed thingsup a bit. According to a teaser from Barbara Dunklemen, our heroes are expected to getnew duds for the Atlas Trilogy, as expected. So what better way to debut thoseduds than a Character Trailer featuring all the RWBY Girls.

Idunno, I’d personally love to see a A Man with Two Souls or Oscar Character Short coupledtogether with a new RWBY Character Short which also doubles as a Team STRQ shortsince it focuses on the parallels between both teams. I think as of V6, we needa STQR backstory particularly featuring Summer Rose. Having the ole Team STRQbe featured alongside their modern counterparts in Team RWBY would be a sweetdebut. But these are just my ideas.

Anyways,getting back on track. To answer your second question about Oscar being Ozpin’sfoil. Well…yes and no? I’d actually like to believe their eachother’s foil.

Asyou rightfully put it, Oscar wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s led by his emotions.But get this…so was Ozma. Ozma and essentially all the Wizards are the stoicbeings they’ve become purely based on the tough lesson that Ozma learnt thefirst time he allowed his heart to guide his judgements.

InV6,Ozpin told the heroes that he has his reasons for the secrets he keeps givenwhat he experienced in the past. Perhaps this iswhy Ozpin would prefer to be in control most of the time since he sees alot of Ozma—the original Ozma in Oscar. Oscar is a likeminded soul. Too much so and hisadolescent age doesn’t help cipher Ozpin’s concerns. A perfect example of thisis back in V5 during the Hazel fight.

Oscar’sstubborn unwillingness to step back and allow Oz to take the reigns admittedlyalmost got the two of them killed.

Asmuch Oscar wanted to prove to himself and possibly Oz that he could do this onhis own, he was behaving rather irrational at the same time given the fact thattheir opponent was leagues stronger than him. In spite of Oscar’s own attemptsto reason with Hazel, in the end, his actions still failed to convince Hazel tostand down which in turn forced Ozpin’s hand.

Itwasn’t pleasant seeing Ozpin force control away from Oscar but the argument couldbe made that it was the sensible move to the make given the circumstance. Ozhad no choice but to take control otherwise Hazel would’ve killed them both;mainly Oscar since Oz would’ve just reincarnated.

Ironically,a similar scenario to this one happened in V6 with the reverse parallel ofOscar forcing control away from Ozpin. When Ozpin proved to be resistant indisclosing the truth about the Relic of Knowledge to the team, Oscar’s hand wasforced this time when Oz made an attempt to possibly relinquish the Relic fromRuby by force.

Oz isn’t exactly aviolent man but it wouldn’t surprise me if part of the reason Oscar retaliatedagainst him was because he sensed his intentions should Ruby continue to resisthanding the Relic back to him. I think Oz was about to force theRelic from Ruby which in turn caused Oscar to intervene for her well-being. Italso wouldn’t surprise me if Oscar pried the knowledge about Jinn from Ozpinduring his moment of vulnerability while the two were locked in a hold forcontrol.

As we saw, Ozpin is just as much an emotional creature ashis predecessors. He’s just been bottling up everything for so long that thefirst time his walls are broken down, exposed by the very secrets he’s tried touphold, the most he can do is cry.

Despiteeverything that happened in V6 C2 and C3, I honestly felt really sorry forOzpin during V6C4. It’s the most defeated we’veever seen him and what hurts—what STILL hurts is that Ozpin has always been aman who has accepted everyone around him, flaws and all regardless of theirpast sins.

ForPete’s sake, Blake is a Faunus who used to hide the fact that she was a Faunusand her status as a former member of the White Fang. I’d like to believe thatOzpin knew of this yet still accepted her.

Butthe one time Ozpin is vulnerable not asingle person takes pity on him. Not a single person tries to understand wherehe was coming or shows him the same level of compassion and empathy he’s giventhem.

No.Every Tom, Dick,Harry and Jane just focused on the Salem’s immortality (which wasn’tOzpin or Ozma’s doing by the way, mind you) bit completely ignoring everythingelse.

Ozmawas a man who died and wasn’t allowed to rest in peace because a) his former love interest was too selfish to let himgo and challenged the Gods to get him back and b) the Gods thought the sensiblepunishment to grant someone who clearly was willing to strike them down if theydidn’t submit to her whim was making this person invincible and unable to be killed.Smart.

Ifanything, Ozma and essentially all the Wizards of Light are the scapegoats to a War that was essentially more between Salem andthe Brother Gods. Ozma was just made a pawn to the God’swhims—I mean a defender of humanity.

Iwill never get over the fact that Ozma was resurrected to basically play janitor to clean up the mess the Gods created with Salem tocounter the mess that Salem made with the Gods. This is why I sympathized withOzma during those three lifetimes as Ambroise (the Tarnished),Emmanuel (the Drunkard)and Isaac (the Hermit)where he just gave up.

Idon’t blame him. This really wasn’t his fight but he was made a part of it bythe God of Light and that in turn made every person that the Wizards haverecruited over the years a part of the war too.

Huh…interesting.Salem always made it seem as if Oz was responsible for their feud when thereality was that he was a by-product of her deceit. It’s ironic. Salem may beimmortal and all powerful but she’s really such a blind villainess. She is sooblivious to her own selfishness that she can’t even see that everything that’shappened is evidently all her doing.

Thisis all started with her. She was the one who tried to trick to Gods and gotpunished for it. She was the one who caused all of humanity to be wiped out alongwith the Gods abandoning Remnant. She was the one who caused the Gods to resurrectOzma to fix the mess she made. And now, Ozma is the man he is because of her.

Salemessentially made Ozma—Ozpin—allthe Wizards of Light the men that they are. She made her own true adversary. Butshe doesn’t see it that way. She’s never been the type to reconsider heractions and see the error of her ways. If anything, Salem is like White Diamond from Steven Universe. They’re both so forgone in theirways that it was considered futile to try and change them. However, as I saw ofthe Change Your Mind Steven Universe Special, White Diamond was ultimatelyredeemed for the better. Will Salem go through the same fate? Only Miles andKerry know the answer to that.

Goingback to the Wizards. What’s interesting to note was that Ozma did give up onhis mission on more than one occasion but each time, something always comesback to remind him of his duty to the world.

I’d like to believethat thing is hope.Hope is such a powerful thing to the Wizards. When the chips are down andeverything goes to shit, hope is all youhave to go on to possibly grant you the inspiration you need to get back upagain. No one knows this lesson better than Oz and his wizarding brothers.

Iwonder if being deep inside Oscar’s mind, Oz will learn that even young Oscarhas painful secrets of his own. I’d like to think that both Oscar andOzpin have lost people they once loved. Since Ozpin is the current embodimentof the WizardPersona, he has all the memories ofhis past selves and views them as his own.

Ozma’spain throughout the years—the loss of his love and children as well as thehardships of his brethren, they are now Ozpin’s to bear and feel the burden of.

Asfor Oscar, I believe Oscar has a bit of tragic past that involved how and why he came to live with his aunt.In my head, I think Oscar has watched people who he loved and helped shape hislife disappear and leave him. First it was the father he never got to meet,then it was the mother who raised for most of his life who he loved more than anythingin the world that was unceremoniously stripped away from him too soon. And allthis leads into a fulltime life with an uncle who was more of a father to himthan his real one—a great man who taught Oscar how to be a brave boy in aterrifying world that the women in his life tried to shield him from. Thisuncle was also the strongest person Oscar knew but unfortunately that strengthwasn’t enough to save the ole soul from the severe heart attack that claimedhis life for Oscar to discover when he was barely over the loss of his mom.

Andall of that culminates in the sudden departure from the one family member Oscarhad left and the one home that’s been consistent throughout his life. At least…that’smy headcanon for Oscar’s past but…y’know I’m not Miles and Kerry so who knowswhat they have for Oscar.

Mypoint is, Oscar and Ozpin are the perfect foils to each other and if theylearnt to see past the issues that still keep them apart, their dynamic wouldbe so much better. Oscar needs to learn to trust Ozpin more and Ozpin needs tolearn how to be more of a guide to Oscar than a controller.

Overall,I believe part of Ozpin and Oscar’s potential development will be learning towork together in harmony. Not as one mind in control while the other staysback. Not even one mind in control while the other tells him what to do. But asone perfect unit.

Hopethis answers your question Captain! Sorry it took so long to reply. HappyEaster to you by the way!

~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)

#squiggles answers: rwby #oscar pine #professor ozpin #oscar and ozpin #rwby theories #pinehead headcanons #squiggles rwby headcanons #captain-strawberrytrash

42 notes · View notes

razorblade180 · 6 years

Text

So an idea popped in my head...

Sup everyone! I’m gonna take you on a little journey of my practically instant (And wild) head canon on what I would love to see in Volume 7. I’m just gonna say my ideas are still pretty rough but I thought I’d share it before the next episode tears it to shreds. Let the madness begin.

Adam’s fate:

For any of this to really happen we have to start with what could happen to Adam in Vol6. We get an amazing battle with Blake and Yang fighting him where in classic anime fashion the heroes keep yelling at the villain to just give up; Adam doesn’t listen and continues to go into detail about his past a little. (just to peak our interest and gain some sort of emotion from the heroes) Eventually, Adam is knocked out of aura and pinned down waiting for the final blow; they never deliver it. Adam screams at them to finish him off and once again Yang delivers a short little speech about that killing him would only make her more like him; while Blake says once again that he doesn’t have to be this way. For the first time ever those words make him waver; his anger still brightly burning but now that seed of doubt has been planted. The possibility that things actually don’t have to be this way and let go. (For those hating redemption Adam just keep reading.) In a fit of frustration he unexpectedly grabs his sword and slices the bridge they are on; Yang and Blake watch in disbelief as the side he stands on falls(beauty and the beast reference) below into the river as he just looks at them with his will to fight him gone. Blake sees the Adam she once knew as her master get washed away believing that he is dead.

Post credits:

Adam wakes up severely wounded and surprised he is alive. The camera then pans to Cinder and Neo with Cinder telling Adam how she has unfinished business with him.

Now we’re in Vol7

Compliance:

Cinder tells Adam her plan and how he could get revenge not just for his loss, but on the company that branded his face. Adam refuses; not only is he steadily becoming unsure of what he wants to do next but he also knows getting mixed up with her never goes well. Cinder doesn’t take no for an answer. With her maiden powers and Adam in bad shape, he reluctantly agrees knowing it’s his only option besides death. Being forced to do things he doesn’t want to by her again isn’t really doing him any favors mentally; it’s only after Cinder walks off that Neo in her own way leads on about a plan to screw Cinder over. He’s not sure what but in the meantime they will both bide their time; heading to Atlas with Cinder once they are ready.

Arrival:

Ruby and company get to Atlas finally. I’m sure we’ll get insight on then talking to James, Winter, and possibly the rest of Weiss’s family. Eventually one of them is spotted by Watts and he also happens to catch wind of Cinder. He decides to call Salem to ask how to proceed.

Defecting:

Emerald and Mercury are still contemplating Tyrians words and own personal thoughts when Emerald over hears Watts’s message and learns where Cinder is. Still believing that she cares about her, Emerald tries to convince Mercury that they should go to Atlas to help her. Emerald is reminded that they have specific orders not to go after her and how Salem won’t just forgive such an act of defiance so easily. With persistent words Mercury finally caves in and him and Emerald sneak out from Salem’s domain; she soon realizes this and sends Hazel to go fetch them. He is hesitant to go after the kids knowing there would be hell to pay when he returns them. He’s not about to upset Salem again though and heads to Atlas to get them.

Cracks in the foundation:

Neo goes off in Atlas alone for awhile. Cinder doesn’t really care as long as she doesn’t do anything stupid. Neo is going off to find the winter maiden based of the knowledge Cinder has told her. Cinder has no clue about this or the fact Neo is planning on taking her and Ruby out when she gets the power. Adam continues to deal with his internal conflict along with the added pressure of being in Atlas. He begins wrestling over the idea of that maybe this hatred towards everything doesn’t have to be so one tracked. He’s a survivor, an avenger of his own pride. No one is going to control his life again; Adam bides his time for the chance to do things his own way.

Plotting:

It’s basically known all over Atlas Weiss is back and she’s sort of out into a position to attend some sort of gathering to create ease among the public. The villains use this information to form their plans. It’s a perfect time for Watts and Tyrian to kill James at this event; it’s less gaurded then any fortress. Cinder is banking on the rest of the Schnee’s team being around; prime time to single out Ruby. While plotting Emerald and Mercury finally find Cinder. Surprised, Cinder is more than welcome to have people do her dirty work and get back into Salem’s good graces. Emerald doesn’t tell her that Mercury and her basically defected. Neo’s plan just got more complicated.

Party time:

I’d imagine a lot of emotional things have been happening to Weiss in this volume and maybe even some family growth (I really want happy schneeblings) so this party is just a nice way to unwind with her team. Until....

Party crashers:

Cinder and company are first to arrive to spoil the fun. Everyone is surprised she’s alive. Yang and Blake are shocked to see Adam while he himself didn’t really register that he’d ever see them again. No words are exchanged, just silent stares that speak louder than words. “Does this have to happen again? Is this fight not over?” Questions that once only plagued their minds now plague his; questions that will soon have answers. Before any true chaos starts Watts and Tyrian make their entrance; shocked to see Mercury and Emerald. This reaction puzzles Cinder, “how would they not know they came here?” Surly Salem would’ve informed them about their departure. It’s only then Hazel arrives to reveal to everyone that the two have gone rouge.

Lines in the sand:

With the truth out Cinder awaits to hear the meaning of this nonsense. Emerald confesses to her they left for her; that she believes things were better before the fall of Beacon. When they were running things their own way together. Cinder tells the girl off and just before she’s able to blast her, Mercury takes the surprise hit. Cinder starts to make it painfully clear that there was no “together” just steppingstones in her quest for power given by Salem. As she summons her sword to put an end to the madness Adam jumps in to block it. He already had an axe to grind with Cinder, knowing how fast she was to kill such a devoted member to her was all the proof he needed that he’d be a goner if he stayed any longer. Completely over all the betrayal, Cinder unleashes a powerful fire blast; when suddenly the unthinkable happens. Thinking that now is as good as a time as any, Neo freezes the attack. Neo reveals she’s a maiden.

Common Enemy:

Many emotions have now reached their peak through these reveals. With a room filled a grudges everywhere one thing was mentally agreed on. The immediate threat to everyone was team WTCH. Thus begins the real fight for preservation. Even though Cinder hasn’t truly been welcomed back it’s clear to see she is loyal to Salem; and right now that is all that matters.

The Fights:

Hazel finds himself up against against Oscar once again. It is not long before Blake and Yang block his path. Not truly going up against him before though they are surprised by his power. In a twist of fate Adam jumps in to help turn the tides. After Blake takes a bad hit from protecting Oscar, it’s up to Yang and Adam to tackle this beast. Grudges will have to take a back seat if they want to win (maybe he’ll even save her life once just to make things even). Watts vs Weiss, Nora, and Ren; we don’t know much about him but I’d imagine with all the possible gadgets and the chance that a Schnee has screwed over his funding that this could be interesting. Deep in Jaune’s soul he wants a rematch with Cinder but knows that isn’t a good idea (growth) so instead he ends up teaming up with Qrow and Mercury to fight Tyrian. They all have a score to settle with this madman and he’ll enjoy the challenge. Finally, we have Neo and Ruby ready to put Cinder in her place. It doesn’t go good for them though since Ruby isn’t used to her abilities and same goes with Neo; the tide turns though when Emerald snaps out of her shock and is ready to take on Cinder.

Retreat:

These battles were grand and by no means quiet. Ironwood, finally being to call for back up has many troops heading to their location for aid. Team WTCH has no choice but to retreat while the madness of crowds and the crumbling building ensue; with people in despair and even more distrust caused in Atlas as a whole, this will insure anymore moves the general makes will be extremely slow. That alone forwards Salem’s plans nicely; especially if this problem is enough to demote Ironwood.

Team MEAN

With the immediate threat gone Mercury grabs Emerald and tries to leave. Before anyone can stop them an ice wall blocks the way where you can see Neo and Adam on the other side; the four new allies stare back at heroes for a moment. Ruby can tell from Neo that their gonna meet again to settle a score, the look in the others convey different messages though. Emerald and Mercury state at her not with malice exactly but there’s no care either; just acknowledgement that things are different, they are playing by their rules now. Adam once again stare at his two thorn in his sides; this time is different though too. He doesn’t stare at Yang with spite in his eyes or Vengeance for Blake; they just look at each other. The past is behind them; from here on out if they don’t step on his toes then he won’t step in theirs. With these exchange of looks, they vanish before any troops can follow them.

Amongst the chaos: Team RWBY has survived another round with Salem’s people thanks to some unlikely help. With all the struggles Atlas is going through to help where they can. This should be the easy part; little did they know yet this stalemate was actually a loss.

Post Credits:

Team MEAN wonders through the forest trying to make back to airship Mercury and Emerald snuck in with. They wonder what’s next for them now that none of them have any place to go. A unfamiliar voice tells them they aren’t out of luck yet. They look around to to simply see Neo with something....unexpected in her possession. The camera pans up to see her twirling the relic of creation in her hands and shows her chuckle mischievously; curtesy of of the new voice she has created for herself. The battle of good and evil just got a third team in the fray. Only time will tell what side they’ll play for.

That’s it! I’m finished! This took me like hours to come up with but days to write. If you read all of this then you’re a trooper and I look forward to reading your comments. (To think this all happened cause the recent episode was a cliffhanger)

132 notes · View notes

phoenixsavant · 5 years

Text

AS - Recovery

I was chatting with SapphiraIce from Tumblr about V's after ending. After admitting that I felt that Seven was cheated out of being part of saving his brother, this idea hit me. So, it's all her fault. Here's Saeran's rescue with Seven in on it.

Not sure if this will be a one-off or turn into another series. We'll see. There's certainly fertile ground to write more, but I'm not sure if it needs more.

Seven reeled back from the force of the explosion. He was barely aware of the wave of heat that swept across his skin even as an arm rose protectively to cover his face. He peered over the black cloth of his hoodie as rubble fell.

“No…” he whispered. “No…”

The flames rose high, consuming what remained of the rooftop and encompassing the odd, steeple-like extension over the main entrance. Seven’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. From some half-forgotten place inside, a scream rose, filling the air around him. The volume competed with the roaring of the inferno that filled his sight.

Twice he tried to approach the building, determined to find the man he suspected would be inside. Cinders scorched his sleeve before the heat drove him back. Cursing the instinctive self-preservation within himself, a feeling he didn’t find in his thoughts at all, he fell to his knees, weeping.

“Saeran, please, no…”

He didn’t move as the building burned itself into a pile of ash and rubble.

(Two days later)

The phone rang again, and Seven hated that he’d created it to withstand any abuse he could give it. Throwing it would have felt better if he’d thought it would actually shatter on impact.

Why is V calling me? What can he possibly think he has left to say to me. I know. I know he let Saeran die. He has to know that I figured it out. If he were smart, he’d just disappear.

He turned up the volume on his headphones, determined to focus on his work. It wasn’t the work he’d been assigned, but that didn’t matter. Nothing matter anymore, not really. Still, before it was done he would see to it that there was penance for the death of his brother.

Saeran, the first secret he’d carried among the hundreds of thousands that now rattled through his mind. The better half of the twins, in his estimation. His brother had been kinder, gentler than anyone he’d known as a child or since. To first find that he’d been turned into a hacker, denied the simple joys of a normal life, that had been a heavy enough blow. Then to lose him when he’d been so close, it was more than the red-haired hacker could endure. Yes, there would be payment, in full if he had any say.

After another half dozen calls, he finally answered the call. “What do you want?” he snarled.

“There’s a chance Saeran is alive. I’m on the way to pick you up.”

Seven’s heart froze in his chest. He looked over his shoulder, making sure that Vanderwood was still in the kitchen. “What? How? If he was inside that place, he’s not alive. I was there. I saw…”

“I know what you saw,” V said, cutting him off. “I also just found out that the room he should have been in was reinforced and may have survived the explosion. Get ready. I’ll be there in less than five minutes.”

The line went dead. Seven stared at the phone in his hands. Right now, all he wanted was to beat V hard enough to leave him hospitalized for life. He hated the man who’d been like a father to him. He had been betrayed at every turn.

A slim chance is better than no chance.

Deciding that his project to exact revenge for Saeran could wait for a few hours, he scribbled a note for Vanderwood, snuck to his room, and shoved a few items into a backpack and slipped out without his partner detecting his absence. Outside, he sped along the path to the place he knew V would be waiting.

V’s car idled under the trees, its driver waiting inside. Seven took a deep breath, pushing down the desire to take out his rage on the man he’d trusted with the most important part of his life. Yanking the door open, he flung himself into the front seat and shoved his backpack to the floor. He didn’t look at V as he pulled the door closed and asked, “What do you mean he’s still alive? This better not be a trick. I’ll kill you if it is.”

He felt he should have been surprised at how dangerous his voice sounded. The dark, deep tones filled the interior of the vehicle.

“I talked to Rika. She told me that the room Saeran would have been in to trigger the explosion was heavily reinforced. She said it’s possible that he survived. I don’t know what we’ll find, but I can’t dig him out on my own. Whether he survived or not, you should be there when…” V’s voice faltered.

Seven looked over at the blue-haired man. He was surprised to catch what looked like V wiping a tear away from his face. “So it was him? The hacker that attacked the RFA was Saeran?”

“Yes, it was him.” V glanced at Seven. “I’m sorry, more than I have words for. I was trying to save him, to get him out of there. It wasn’t supposed to be…”

“Damn straight it wasn’t supposed to be that way!” Seven growled. “I don’t want your apologies, V. In fact, fuck you and your apologies. The only reason I’m here is because you used Saeran’s name. If you hadn’t, I’d have told you to go to hell and blocked your calls.” His fingers curled into tight fists in his lap. “You’re a liar and a traitor. I hate you.”

Almost as much as I hate myself.

“I know. I don’t blame you.”

“Shut up and drive.”

The rest of the trip to Magenta passed in complete silence. Seven’s mind roared within his skull, so enraged with V that his head ached somewhat by the time they arrived. His jaw felt as if it had been soldered shut, so fiercely had he been clenching it.

The car rolled up to the pile of charred rubble where Magenta had stood just as the sun began its descent toward the horizon. Stepping out of the car and rolling his shoulders, Seven wished he’d been able to pack better. They’d have to make do with the flashlights he’d brought instead of having the larger lights in his own car. He wasn’t stopping when night came. He wasn’t stopping until he held his brother, alive or dead.

“Where?” he asked V.

“This way,” V answered, taking a pair of shovels from the trunk and moving swiftly to the rear of the building. “There’s supposed to be a stairway leading down and the reinforced room is at the bottom. She said the stairwell was built the same as the room, so it should be standing. If it isn’t, I have ropes.” He paused, looking down at the younger man. “We will find him.”

Seven responded with a grunt, watching to see where V began digging. He grabbed the extra shovel and joined in.

The only thing to alert either man to the passage of time was the lengthening of shadows around them. They did not pause in their efforts, setting aside the shovels only when they had to work together to move a larger remnant of the building aside. The ash and soot filled the air, choking them and leaving black streaks cut by trails of sweat.

When the sun went down, they tried setting up the flashlights but quickly found that there was no way to position them to keep enough light on the situation to make sufficient progress. V pulled the car around, bouncing it gently over the scorched flower beds until he could bathe the site beneath the headlights.

The path to the location of the stairwell opened before them and they worked their way down through three floors of debris, searching for the promised opening.

Seven had often prayed, his faith in God being his anchor in life, but he’d never prayed like this. Anything, my life, my freedom, anything, just let him be alive. Let me reach him. Let him be there. Please don’t show me his body when we get through this. I’ll give anything, anything….

The words raced, repeating endlessly, like a summoner’s chant.

V’s shovel drove through the mess and stopped with a loud clang. Looking at Seven he pulled it back and slammed it down again, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. A second impact resounded through the still air and both men turned to scraping away the blackness over the solid space. Hope gave way to despair as they realized they were standing on a massive block of cement right where the opening to the stairs should have been.

Seven dragged his shovel around, seeking the edges of the block, his horror growing as he realized that either a floor or a large exterior wall had collapsed on this exact spot. He hadn’t packed any explosives, and the segment was too large to rope off and pull away. For the second time, he sunk to his knees at Magenta and screamed into the night.

“You damn fool,” a gruff voice called from the darkness. “First you run off without telling me, make me track your ass to the middle of nowhere, and now you’re just going to give up?”

Seven’s hand shot to where his gun should have been, but he’d left it in the car.

“Right, because you wouldn’t have been dead two hours ago if I’d wanted it.” A red spot grew, the light of it briefly illuminating a face before Seven’s partner stepped into the glow of V’s headlights. He regarded the two men with a look of annoyance and took another drag on his cigarette before dropping it and stamping it out with his toes. “So, what are you digging up?”

“A person,” V stated. “At least, we hope it’s a person still.”

“What happened here? This is one hell of a mess.”

“It was an explosion.”

Seven tried to signal V to stop talking but was ignored.

“We have reason to believe that someone is trapped under here, in a reinforced room. We’re trying to get to them. Are you here to help or get in the way?”

Seven knew he should have been used to V’s way of telling just enough without tipping his hand to anyone, but it startled him to hear anyone speak to Vanderwood in such a challenging tone.

Vanderwood stepped forward, approaching the chunk of concrete that had halted their progress. He looked around, evaluating the entire situation, noting the unstable piles of burned lumber and crumbling drywall around them. “If you hadn’t snuck off, you’d have had the right tools for the job. Didn’t you learn anything from me, agent?”

He spun on his heel, stalking back out into the darkness. When he returned, he left one large bag next to V’s car, and the other he carried to where V and Seven continued digging at the edges of the slab.

“Gotta crack it first, in pieces. We’ll have to take it out a little at a time or it’ll bring the rest of this shit show down on us.” He mumbled as he pulled wires and a grey putty-like substance from his bag. “Gotta slice it up like a pie and figure out what’s underneath it.” After a few minutes, he rose and said to Seven and V, “Get back. Move that car back, too. Give it an extra hundred feet.”

While they cleared the area, he set the explosives and ran the ignition wires back. Connecting them to a small detonator, he looked back and then hunched low to the ground before flipping the switch. The following series of explosions ran like a daisy chain from the edge of the concrete slab to the center. Smoke drifted through the air, but it didn’t look as if much had changed.

Seven approached the area, his eyes taking on a fresh light of hope as he saw row after row of deep cracks. They could move some of these pieces! They would get through!

Without waiting, he fell on the first crevasse, his fingers scrabbling at the rubble filling it, seeking a way to gain leverage.

Vanderwood groaned and waved for V to join him. Between the three of them, they managed to finish separating the outermost segment and haul it aside. They labored through the night, moving the heavy material as they were able, and Vanderwood setting small explosions to break up the pieces that were still too large.

Seven couldn’t recall his body being so tired or sore. He was finally thankful for the training he’d received from the agency. He knew he’d never have kept going without it. His hands were torn and bleeding, as were his arms. The usually bright gold rings on the shoulder of his hoodie had long since been lost to the black ash he’d been digging through with only one thought. He’d given up seeing through his glasses, and was glad that he could see well enough to continue without them. There was no keeping the lenses clear.

He noted that V was working just as hard, just as desperately. His mentor’s face was pinched with apprehension and determination. Never once had the photographer complained or stepped aside for a break, though his movements slowed as exhaustion crept through his body. Seeing how hard he worked left Seven feeling slightly less angry about V’s actions leading to this moment. It wasn’t as if V wasn’t responsible, but maybe Seven had misjudged his intentions.

Finally, they pried a large, triangular piece clear of the massive cement block and Seven shouted. “There’s an opening! It’s right here! We found it!”

“Keep your mind on what you’re doing,” Vanderwood snapped breathlessly. “Lift!”

The instant they had lowered the slab to the ground, Seven raced back, checking the opening he’d seen. He shone his flashlight into the narrow opening. “Stairs!” he called out. “I see stairs!”

V raced to Seven’s side, peering into the hole. “Yes, I see them too! This has to be it! There should be a door at the bottom, and the door just beyond that. Are the walls around the stairs intact, can you see?”

Seven started to lean his head and shoulder into the opening, now out of his mind to get down the stairs. Vanderwood yanked him back.

“You want to get your skull crushed?” the agent asked. “Look,” he pointed. “That entire mess is laying right over the stairwell. If you move too much around, you’ll bring it all down on yourself.”

Chastised, Seven sat on his heels. “We have to get down there,” he said helplessly.

“Yeah, I get that. At least, I hope that’s why we’ve been working ourselves to death all night.” He knelt, leaning over to look down into the stairwell. “This wall looks secure but I can’t see the far side.” He frowned as he evaluated the rest of the chunk they’d been breaking down. “This is too narrow for any of us. We need to clear one more piece.” His eyes narrowed and he drew lines in the air with his fingers before ordering, “Seven, get my bag. We’re going to set one more round.”

Using the shovel to gouge a small indentation into the cement, Vanderwood set a fresh explosive. When it went off, he’d cracked the block neatly to free a segment just large enough to allow them to step down onto the stairs.

V went first, testing the steps as he moved down into the darkness. “The walls held,” he announced, relief carrying up to the others as he moved further in, allowing them to follow.

At the end of the stairwell, however, was another mess. It seemed that several large pieces of flammable material had fallen into the stairs before they were covered. V groaned and leaned against the wall.

“Got a bucket?” Vanderwood asked.

“No, I don’t. I didn’t think we’d need one,” V said sorrowfully.

Vanderwood shook his head. “I’ll get one.” He retreated back up the stairwell, returning a few minutes later with the shovels and the promised bucket. Passing the tools to V and Seven, he settled himself on the stairs and lit a cigarette. “This is your rescue op. You dig. I’m going to take a break.”

Seven couldn’t even find one of his usual quips to tease Vanderwood about getting old. He slammed the blade of the shovel into the upper layers of the debris before him and began filling the bucket.

With V and Seven both digging, Vanderwood’s break was short lived. He hauled each load to the surface, making countless trips and keeping light on the work until the doorway beyond could be seen.

Seven turned to V, shaking his head. The heavy, metal door lay partially open, twisted and scorched, half off its hinges. The room beyond could barely be seen into. Seven felt his heart might just lose the ability to break. The past few days had been such a rollercoaster of extreme emotions. To have worked so hard, to have finally broken through, only to find…

He put his shoulder against the twisted metal hunk and pushed with all his weight. Vanderwood joined him and together, they forced it open far enough to slip through.

Stumbling over a blackened board, Seven took the first steps, panning his light around the room. “Come on,” he whispered. “Be alive, be alive.”

V followed them into the room and the three men split up, searching the cavernous space.

“The hell was this, anyway?” Vanderwood asked, seeing the bank of monitors with their screens blown apart.

“A programming center,” V answered quickly, saving Seven from having to think of a plausible story.

“Programming center, huh?” Vanderwood’s tone clarified that he didn’t believe V, but wasn’t going to ask again.

“Here!” V called, dropping his light and grasping at the edge of a tall set of shelves.

Seven was at his side in a flash, grunting as they righted the shelves, revealing the form of a young man curled into a fetal position.

A crimson long coat wrapped around the skinny, unmoving frame. Tattered, lace trimmed sleeves hung limply from the sleeves, matching the white hair that lay in disarray over the pale face and closed eyes.

“Is he…” Seven asked, suddenly immobilized.

V knelt, searching the inside of Saeran’s wrist. His expression began to fall but then he blinked suddenly. “No, it’s faint, very faint, but he’s alive. I have a pulse!”

Seven threw himself over his brother’s shoulder. “Saeran, wake up Saeran. Please, please, I need you to come home.” Tears flooded over his face, washing away the accumulated filth of the night.

“Who is it?” Vanderwood asked softly, kneeling beside V.

V considered his response before replying, “It’s his twin.”

Vanderwood’s eyes widened in shock. He watched Seven for a moment, processing this new information. Sorrow filled his eyes briefly, replaced by fierceness. He moved forward to take Saeran into his arms.

“No!” Seven shouted. “No! Don’t touch him! You can’t take him!”

“I’m going to take him to the surface so we can figure out how to help him. I brought my med kit. Come on Seven, let me carry him for you. We’ll make sure your brother lives. We just need to get out of here first.”

Years of trusting one another won out over Seven’s fear that the agency would take Saeran away from him. Vanderwood could be believed. Vanderwood would help. He’d come to help, not to stop them from saving Saeran. Seven leaned back and watched as his partner lifted his brother’s limp body gently from the ground.

Saeran didn’t stir as he was carried out into the grey, pre-dawn light. He didn’t moan or make any noise as he was laid out on the grass beside V’s car. His eyelids didn’t flicker as Vanderwood examined him.

V found a bottle of water and a clean cloth which he used to wipe Saeran’s face clear so they could check for injuries.

Vanderwood cut away the strange clothing, checking each bone for fractures, noting bruises and places where swelling had occurred.

Seven was completely undone. Helplessly, he held Saeran’s hand, his thumb tracing a repetitive path over his brother’s knuckles. When he saw the scars and deep gouges he wept wordlessly. He searched the faces of V and Vanderwood, afraid to ask the question that would determine his fate.

“He’s dehydrated, badly, and his body is in terrible condition, but I think he’ll make it,” Vanderwood finally announced. “I take it we can’t drop him off at a hospital?”

“No, we can’t,” V confirmed.

“I thought as much.” He dug into his bag again, producing an IV bag, tubing, and a needle. “First, hydration.” He set up the drip, positioning the bag on top of the car to allow gravity to do its work and draw the fluids into Saeran’s bloodstream. Once it was set, he pulled out a metallic square, unfolding it and laying it over the now naked man.

He rose, lit a cigarette and leaned against V’s car. “Seven,” he called. When there was no response, he barked, with the tone of a drill sergeant, “Agent 707!”

Seven’s head shot up, tear-streaked and filthy, but with alert eyes.

“We need to talk. I don’t want any bullshit, either. I’ve gone and gotten myself into god knows what with you. I want to know why and I want to know what the hell is happening. Since when did you have a brother?” His tone was neither cruel nor angry. If any emotion could have been ascribed, it would have been worry for his partner.

Seven managed a half smile. “Since a few minutes after I was born.”

V chuckled softly, and Vanderwood shot a scathing look at Seven before laughing.

“Well, you’ll be alright then, if you’re back to being a smart ass. Now,” he took a long drag on his cigarette. “Now, fill me in.”

Seven and V recounted the story of how Seven had come to join the agency, V’s failed attempt to protect Saeran, and Rika’s descent into madness. Vanderwood asked only a few questions about Mint Eye and the RFA as the tale unfolded.

In the end, Vanderwood shook his head in disbelief. “So we need to get this kid to someplace safe, then.” He gave V a critical look. “You sure you’re able to keep up your end of the deal again? If I let you take Saeran, you’ll keep him safe?”

“I’ll die trying,” V promised. “I’ve been at fault for so much…”

“Yeah, yeah, all your fault. I got that from the story. Are you done wallowing in your self-pity, or are you going to fuck this up again? I’m not letting you go anywhere with him if you’re not up to handling shit properly.”

V blinked as if he’d been slapped. “I will… handle shit,” he said firmly. “What will you do?”

“Seven, you’re coming back with me. You have an assignment, and you’re going to finish it.”

Seven shot to his feet, ready to fight. “No! I’m not leaving his side! I don’t care what you threaten…”

“Look here, you selfish brat!” Vanderwood shouted. “I’ve put my neck out far enough for you lately! If you don’t finish this job, they’ll be after me, too. I’m not getting killed, got that?” He folded his arms across his chest and took a breath. “I’m not saying you can’t be with your brother. I’m saying you need to think. Finish the job. They always give you time off after one this big. Use the time and go be with him. I’ll never tell a soul you have family. Maybe we can even find a way to get you out, but that won’t work right if you don’t finish your assignment.”

To V, he asked, “Do you have a safe location in mind?”

V nodded. “I have an apartment in Chittagong. I can take him there. I just need to arrange transportation.” He looked down at Saeran’s slack face. “You’re sure he’ll survive?”

“Yeah, he needs rest and food. Looks to me like he got knocked out and then that shelf trapped him. His injuries are all minor.” He nodded at Seven. “Luck must be in their blood. He should have been dead. I think that slab falling put out whatever fire was going and kept out the rest of the mess. The shelf falling on him wasn’t great, but it could have been much worse.”

“Good. When we get back to an area with a stable signal, I’ll get Jumin to arrange a flight for us.”

“No, that won’t do. There are enough people involved already.” Vanderwood pulled a phone from his pocket. “You owe me for this, Seven,” he said as he made a call.

“Hey Geon… Yeah, it’s me… Look, you said if I ever needed anything… Yeah, I need to ask if… Right… I need medical transport out of the country for two… Bangladesh… Chittagong… Today… Oh, you know me, saving lives and protecting the defenseless… Yeah, I can do that… Thanks… See you then.”

He ended the call and frowned down at Saeran again. “Alright, 1:30 this afternoon we have to meet a guy. He’ll have a plane with a nurse ready to go. You’ll go with Saeran, V. When they’re gone, you’re coming home and finishing your assignment, Seven. You do that and I’ll buy your ticket out of here for you. Deal?”

Seven didn’t want to let V take Saeran anywhere without him, but seeing how far Vanderwood was going to help, his only response was to step over his brother’s legs and hug his partner tightly. “Thank you, for this, for everything,” he choked.

Vanderwood shrugged Seven away. “Yeah, whatever. Just don’t you screw this up.”

They packed up the tools V had brought and Seven dug a clean change of clothing from his bag. Between them, they dressed Saeran in more normal looking clothing and Vanderwood changed the IV bag.

Seven lifted his brother into the back seat of V’s car, amazed at how small his frame was. We’ll get you well again, he promised silently. We’ll get you healthy and safe. You’ll never suffer like this again.

That afternoon he watched as the small airplane lifted his brother and V off Korean soil, heading for the safety of V’s secret apartment. His heart twisted mercilessly in his chest and waves of fear washed through his blood, making it feel as if he’d been dropped into an arctic zone with no coat. He shivered, trying not to listen as his thoughts screamed that he’d never seen Saeran again.

When they returned to their home, Seven only took long enough to shower before returning to his computers. He closed out the work he’d been doing instead of his assignment. Revenge was less important now. He needed to get to his brother.

For the first time since being assigned to Agent 707, Vanderwood didn’t have to harass him to get his work done. In fact, he had to forcefully drag the young man away to eat and sleep. The project that was to take a month was finished in a week, astounding Vanderwood. He’d known the kid was good, but he had never seen anyone work like that before.

True to his word, he bought Seven’s ticket as soon as the work was done. What he didn’t tell him was that he wasn’t turning in the assignment early. Their bosses didn’t need to know that Seven could work this fast. They’d expect it every time, and Vanderwood didn’t think there would ever be anything to motivate him so fiercely again. He dropped Seven at the airport and drove away, carrying secrets he wouldn’t reveal under torture. “Good luck, kid,” he murmured as he watched the young man enter the terminal.

(Chittagong)

Seven pressed the buzzer outside the wrought iron gate. His heart was racing, pounding loudly enough to hear its rhythmic thumping in his ears. His brother was on the other side of this door, up one more flight of stairs. Finally, they’d be together again.

“Luciel?” V’s voice crackled from the speaker beside him.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Come on up. Saeran is sleeping so come in quietly.”

The door buzzed and clicked and Seven was through it in a flash. Even with his luggage, he vaulted up the stairs two at a time, turning at the second door on his left, as previously instructed. Before he could knock, the door opened and V greeted him with a warm hug.

“He’s alright?” Seven asked softly.

“Yes, much better. He’s cleared his system of the elixir and his appetite is returning. He still sleeps a lot, but he’s becoming more alert.” V looked away nervously. “Come in, please, and sit with me. I need to talk to you while he’s asleep.”

“What is it?” Seven asked, instantly on edge.

V gestured to the sitting area of the small apartment. “First, sit.”

Seven felt his mouth go dry as he occupied the nearest chair. “What’s wrong?”

“So, I didn’t lie. Physically speaking, Saeran is doing better. He is beginning to do better mentally as well, but you need to know a few things about that.” He drew his fingers through his blue hair slowly, thinking out his next words. “First, Saeran blames you as much as me, for everything. He was told that you abandoned him so many times that he believes it to be true.”

“But I didn’t! I…”

“No, you didn’t, I know. I’ve been working on getting that across to him. He knows you’re coming today, but he’s not excited about it. He has agreed to talk to you, but you need to be prepared for the anger he’s carried against you. I can’t promise he’ll be ready for you to stay.”

Seven frowned deeply. He wasn’t sure he could walk away from Saeran now, even at his request. “Alright,” he said aloud. “What else?”

“There seems to have been some psychological damage,” V began hesitantly. “There’s a very angry, very aggressive alter ego that arises. I have not yet been able to determine what triggers the emergence of this other persona, but if he appears, he may attack you.” He tilted his head back, revealing a set of finger-print shaped bruises along his neck. “He’s attacked me twice since we arrived here.”

Had Seven thought his heart broke so many times that night at Magenta that it couldn’t break anymore? He had been wrong. He knew that extreme, recurring trauma was required to cause a personality to splinter. What hells had Saeran lived through that would leave him like that? How could Rika have mistreated his gentle-hearted brother so? For a moment he wished he’d followed through with his plans to make her pay.

Shoving those thoughts aside, he focused on the fact that he was with his brother, far from Rika or the hellish life she’d condemned Saeran to. They’d get through this together, the way they always should have.

A door opened behind him and Seven heard a soft voice call, “V? I heard voices. What’s…”

Seven rose and turned, looking into a face that mirrored his own in every way except for eyes that were now blue instead of gold. White hair replaced red, and this man wore no glasses, but it was still him, still his brother. Seven’s eyes misted over and he smiled hopefully.

“Hello, Saeran. Sorry I kept you waiting, but I’m here now. How are you?”

#rescue #angst #707 #mysticmessenger 707 #mysme #mystic messenger #mysme 707 #mysticmessenger V #mysme v #Another Story #v's after ending #Vanderwood #mysticmessenger Vanderwood #mysme vanderwood #mysticmessenger saeran #mysme Saeran #Vandy is still a god #Choi reunion

38 notes · View notes

undeadwicchan · 6 years

Text

What really happened to Summer Rose? And why did it lead to Ozpin’s apparent protectiveness over Ruby.

@xstonehill‘s recent analysis post on Summer, the poem “Thus I kindly Scatter”, and what happened in today’s episode of RWBY has gotten me thinking about two things. Summer’s fate and how in the first two volumes of RWBY, we see Ozpin just always right there at the right moment for Ruby when she’s doubting herself or/and down in the dumps. Always keeping an eye on her with his scroll. It’s starting to click much more now thanks to the recent episode.

Firstly on Summer’s case. After learning from Hazel stating they’ve dealt with them before I would assume that the SEWs would come across them in battle to stop Salem’s advances on Remnant. But, no we receive the possible much darker truth about Hazel words.

Those who bear silver eyes are non-stop being HUNTED down by Salem, like Maria was hunted down by Tock and lost her eyes in the process. Which is why Qrow said to Ruby about how ‘special’ she is. How it’s a extremely rare trait to have silver eyes. Instead of being a hereditary rare occasion, what if silver eyes used to be a uncommon trait but, not rare? But, Salem decided to hunt them all down after becoming much of a threat to her plans, dwindling their numbers down incredibly so. Just imagining the thought of someone like Tyrian chasing you down like he chased after Ruby for having silver eye is bringing shivers to my spine. It’s even more spine-chilling considering how mentally unstable he is that I feel the ultimate sympathy for any SEW that had to try and fight him back. However, this is about Summer and her fate. How instead of dying in a glorious fight against Salem’s force. She was merely hunted down perhaps in the middle of a simple mission with Qrow, after all the latter did mumble out loud along the lines of “She’s not coming back, Tai...” while in his sick state. While songs aren’t typically canon, they do convey feelings of emotions for said character towards a being of another or themselves. Hence why Red Like Roses II is being brought in for this.

“I never planned that I would leave you there alone I was sure that I would see you when I made it back home And all the times I swore that it would be okay Now I'm nothing but a liar, and you're thrown into the fray”

Now what can now be inferred is that before Summer left on a mission with most likely having Qrow with her under Ozpin’s orders to protect Summer from any of Salem’s forces. She told little Ruby that she’ll be okay and she’ll see her soon, and the mission was a success, but of course she ended up being hunted down and killed on the way back to Patch. And now Ruby being perhaps one of that last or the only one to have silver eyes is automatically under Salem’s radar for the way she’s born.

Now this is where Ozpin comes in for my second point, he didn’t know Ruby had silver eyes at first. But, after hearing what happened to Summer and knowing that her daughter may be next. He probably had the Xiao Longs moved somewhere much more isolated in Patch first of all. Secondly he most likely placed Qrow under the guise of being a teacher at Signal Academy to keep a closer eye on Ruby, although, he didn’t expect Qrow to teach Ruby how to wield a scythe. And then the day would finally come where Ruby captures the attention of Roman and Cinder who the latter happens to work for Salem and making it on the news as the girl who stopped a Dust store robbery. Which most definitely caught the attention of Salem. Oh, and this definitely needs to be said right now for the sake of this theory and analysis.

Ozpin didn’t let Ruby in two years early just for her skills in combat, he let her in so she can be safe from Salem with himself being able to keep a watchful eye on her and becoming protective of her well being.

He’s constantly making sure Ruby makes it through the Initiation since there is the possibility that she’s not ready for such training to become a Huntress and also the fact she could die during the Initiation since there are Grimm like Death Stalkers and Nevermores out there. And this isn’t the first time we see him checking on her using his scroll.

He does it again in the last episode of Volume 1, before getting a message from Qrow. Making sure once again she’s safe.

Also can we talk about quickly he pops in to cheer up Ruby? Once again this happens more than once.

And then there’s Ozpin’s speech towards the students before they get sent out on missions.

“But matter what path you choose, remember to be safe, remember your training, and remember to do your very best”

While he telling this to everyone, He is more than once was looking towards the direction of where his students were at mainly. And I can’t help but, think he was looking directly at Ruby as he said those words. To be safe.

Which is why he was okay with them going on a mission not meant for first years. He was aware of what they’ve done during their time at Beacon thus far, and he knew which huntsman was going with them on their mission. Additionally, he was aware that Oobleck would sent them back if they didn’t meet his standards.

However, his protectiveness of Ruby isn’t overbearing at all. In Volume 3, he knows how strong Ruby is now, and how he help taught her and his other students the importance of teamwork and unity. So that’s why he didn’t go directly for her during the Fall of Beacon. Because he has faith in her, and he trusts himself and Ruby that she’ll come back alive.

The reason for this desire to protect Ruby? Well Salem has been hunting her kind down constantly, and Summer and Ozpin were most likely good friends. He just... didn’t want more blood spilled because he failed in protecting those he cares about. He already said he’s made more mistakes than any man, woman, and child. And Ruby’s fate was certainly not going to be one of them.

#RWBY #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 6 spoilers #Ozpin #Ozma #Ruby Rose #Summer Rose #Analysis #Thoughts

133 notes · View notes

skyfireflight · 6 years

Text

Dragon Prince fanfic: Midnight’s Dawn

Here’s my first Dragon Prince fanfiction! I’ve also posted the AO3 link.

Pre-canon/Pre-series: Based of off the fan translation of Elarion’s poem. How Elarion met Aaravos, and the events leading up to the humans’ exile from Xadia.

Summary: Dragons were not kind to humans. Nor were most elves. But Elarion, was willing to take that risk. She had to, to save everyone she loved.

Part 1: Sun Chapter 1

Elarion and her blooming flower

afraid of wilt, injustice, and death

searched in the darkness

for his light

the eyes of the hungry dragon burned

- from Elarion's Poem

"There are centuries of history.

Generations of wrongs and crimes

on both sides."

- Harrow, Human king of Katolis

Humans were an abomination.

All creatures of the continent of Xadia - all creatures of the world - were born with magic. Connected to a primal source. A gift from the world, from their blood.

Humans had no such connection. They were born without magic, without the blessing that was bestowed upon every other living being.

They must be cursed, to be deprived so. Deemed unworthy.

Even the insects and worms had magic. The humans were lower than these.

But a human with magic was an even worse abomination.

They were not born with an arcanum, a connection to a primal source of magic, and therefore should not seek one.

It was their lot in life, their destiny.

A human with their own magic?

It was against the nature of things. A crime against the natural order.

It could not be tolerated.

The dragons, the rulers of the sky, the most powerful beings - and therefore the highest - in all of Xadia, would not tolerate it.

Humans would learn their place.

Villagers screamed as fire rained down in streams. Houses - more like straw huts, really - ignited, and people raced out into the streets, clutching their children and their belongings close to their chests. Ashes and cinders, smoke and bits of rubble drawn up from currents spurred by great, monstrous wings, filled the air. Clogged it. Choked her lungs.

She coughed fitfully into her arm as she ran down the street - more of a dirt path - between the houses, trying to clear her lungs. But all that did was smear the black soot even further on her skin. Small fires of burning debris littered the path, and she had to dodge them along with the -

ROARRRR!

She screamed and ducked, throwing herself out of the way as best she could. Away from a dark shadow and the bright, red stream that the shadow unleashed.

A dragon - a sun dragon - flew above her. It's fire scorched the ground where she had been standing just a moment before.

She could still feel the heat on her back. She wondered at the fact that the heat alone hadn't ignited her clothes, even without touching her.

Perhaps she was protected.

But she didn't feel protected.

She could barely sense it above the winter clouds and the thick smoke covering the sky.

A lot of good it did her, now.

Of course it was a sun dragon that attacked, she thought derisively. She scrambled back upright and continued running, nearly tripping over a burning pile of wood and straw before righting herself at the last minute.

Her ears were filled with a cacophony of chaotic sound. Crashes as homes collapsed, the pounding of feet, shrieks, people calling out each other's names in desperation. A young child screaming through sobs for his dad.

This was all her fault.

She tried to call up what she remembered, but her concentration was shaky. Her wobbly rune and stuttered incantation only managed to disperse half of the fire that had caught what had been used as a school house. Which promptly was fully on fire again, the leftover half spreading in an instant to whatever parts of the building hadn't been entirely burnt.

She wanted to collapse in exhaustion, even though it was barely evening and she really hadn't been running for that long.

The tears and burning in her eyes wasn't just from the ashes in the air.

"Elarion!"

Someone behind her yelled her name, and she turned toward the voice. Her mother ran toward her through the flames, her long skirt fisted in her hands so she wouldn't trip. The woman was also coughing, her face streaked with soot.

"Mom!" Elarion bolted to meet her.

"Oh, thank the stars!" Her mom grabbed her hand, tugging her down another street, one that lead away from the village and the fires. "Come! Everyone is going to the river!"

"But, Mom! I can try to - !"

The woman cut her off. "You are not risking yourself like that, Elarion!" Despite the heat from the surrounding flames, Elarion felt a shiver run through her. They kept running, the girl pulled by her mother down the street and into the open fields. Grass hit their boots as they left the village behind them.

Another roar, one Elarion imagined had the power to make the earth quake if the winged beast willed it so, shook the air at their backs. Her mom pulled both of them down, and they hit the grass on their stomachs. Elarion looked back.

The red dragon was breathing a line of fire at the village's edge, igniting the grass there just beyond the rubble and whatever few beams were left standing, licking at the feet of the people who were just now escaping.

Her mother pulled her up, and they started running again down the shallow slope of hill that lead to the village's water source.

Running, while her home burned like a great bonfire.

The dragon hadn't followed them, much to the humans' surprise and great relief. It just set fire to the village itself, gave a "warning" breath of flames at their retreat, and left.

It had been early evening when the sun dragon attacked. The evening had now turned to night.

Once the dragon was gone, people had done their best to cart water in whatever container they found salvageable - which weren't many - up the hill to douse the flames. But mostly, the fires had to burn out on their own.

More fires - but smaller ones, controlled - lit up haphazardly all along the river, family groups huddling together around them for light and warmth.

Elarion sat by the crackling campfire, poking and shifting the bits of wood inside the flames with the end of a long stick. Her elbow was propped on one raised knee, her cheek resting on her fist as she gazed into the flickering light, her eyes glazed and distant.

"Elarion. Hey." Her mom's soft voice lifted her from her reverie. She blinked and looked upward as her mom sat in the grass beside her, the woman's skirt ruffling as she settled. "What's on your mind, sweetheart?" Her mom brushed wayward curl's from Elarion's face and tucked them behind her ear.

Elarion sighed heavily. "Besides the obvious?" she drawled, gesturing with her head and eyes toward the remains of the village. She moved the stick from the fire and dropped it, then curled her arms around her knees and settled her chin on her arms.

Her mom gently laid a warm arm across her shoulders. "It's not your fault. You know that, don't you? None of this is."

"But it is." She willed her voice not to crack, but to no avail. "It is - if I hadn't - " Her words were chopped up by sobs.

"If you hadn't," Mom soothed, gently wiping away Elarion's tears with her thumb, "then we wouldn't be here." Elarion turned to face her mother, slightly straightening, but keeping her hands around her knees. "There wouldn't be half a village to burn. Their choices aren't yours, Elarion."

"I know that," Elarion murmured, her voice airy. She gave a shuddering breath and wiped her eyes. Her mom nodded and smiled down at her, giving her shoulders a comforting squeeze.

Elarion hesitated, then softly asked, "...Was anyone hurt too badly...?"

"No one is dead," her mother answered. "But some people have serious burns." The woman held up a hand, stopping the words Elarion was opening her mouth to say. "They cleaned them in the river. That will do for now. We can do more in the morning." Mom smoothed her palm down Elarion's curls. "Remember what I told you."

Their choices aren't yours. Her mother's words echoed in her head.

And she knew that, she did...but.

She couldn't help the nagging feeling that she had brought this upon them.

As her mother lied down beside her, Elarion looked up at the sky. The sky that had just been filled with clouds and smoke.

Now, stars scattered across the clear, dark blue expanse. One, Elarion noticed, shone brighter than the others, blinking like a heartbeat.

Thinking back to a science lesson she'd had at school, Elarion remembered what it was called.

The midnight star.

#tdp #the dragon prince #the dragon prince fanfiction #tdp fanfic #tdp aaravos #tdp elarion #aaravos #elarion #tdp theory #tdp theories #tdp fan lore #tdp poem #wonderstorm #tdp dark magic #tdp primal magic #midnight's dawn #tdp backstory

14 notes · View notes

calliecat93 · 6 years

Text

RWBY V6 CH4 Review: So That’s How It Is

Already we're entering Chapter 4, and it's been one Hell of a ride so far. Even Volume 3 waited until the halfway mark to start dealing out the emotional blows. This one? It started in Chapter 2 and doesn't show any signs of holding back. At last the answers regarding Ozpin, who he is, and of his conflict with Salem have been answered. Now the question is, how will our heroes react to it? Well... only one way to find out, I supposed.

Overview

The reaction is... bad. Its... its bad. With the revelation that Salem can't be destroyed, Team RWBY is furious, Yang’s outright yelling at a tearful Ozpin for hiding this. Ruby, while clearly unhappy, keeps her composure as she asks Ozpin exactly what his plan is to defeat Salem. Ozpin, clearly broken down from both his secrets being out and having to relieve his most painful memories, finally admits that he has no plan. This is the straw that breaks the camels back for, of all people, Qrow. He outright punches Ozpin in the face. He does it so hard that he sends him flying into a nearby tree. Yeah, way to forget that it's Oscar's body buddy. Qrow starts to lament on how no one wanted him due to his bad luck, and through Ozpin it felt like he finally had a purpose and could do good. Ozpin trying to tell him that he is doing good falls on deaf ears as Qrow says that meeting him was clearly the worst luck of his like. This shocks, and even seems to hurt Ozpin, and all that he can do is say that he may be right.

In that moment, Ozpin switches back to Oscar, left to feel the sting of the hit. He confirms that Ozpin is gone and when Yang furiously tells him to tell the bastard (IDK why people make her saying that a big deal when she cursed last volume to) that they aren't done, Oscar clarifies that Ozpin has locked himself away in the depths of his mind... they're mind... yeah all of this is causing the poor kid to break down and have an existential crisis. The girls are mad that Ozpin left, wondering what to do when finally, Maria rejoins the story by yelling at them to stop. She points out that it'll be dark soon as she helps Oscar to his feet, so it's best that they follow a nearby trail and get a move on. Yang starts to turn her anger on her because how dare an old woman point out that they're spewing negativity and becoming Grimm magnets, but Maria puts her foot down and refuses to freeze to death. She even says that she understands that they're upset, but right now they aren't making it any better.

So everyone gathers whatever supplies that they can as they start to finally move. Ruby, now having the Relic, goes to give Oscar back the cane. Oscar starts to wonder if all he's going to be is another one of Ozpin's many lives. Ruby starts to assure him that no, he is his own person... only for Qrow to tell her to quit lying as they are better than that. I have... a LOOOT of not nice things to say about this moment, but I’ll save it for when we get to the review section. Oscar just starts walking, Ruby clearly uneasy at all of this before also walking. Well that was soul crushing!

Lets give the heroes a break for a bit and talk about the villains. Hazel, Emerald, and Mercury return to Salem's domain, Emerald clearly still in shock from the entire thing. They are greeted by Tyrian, who I guess was just sleeping all of last volume or something. He starts to mock the fact that it appears that Cinder is dead, provoking Emerald to draw her weapons on him. It reminds me a LOT of that moment in Bleach when Gin Ichimaru decided to go to Rukia and offer to help her avoid execution before revealing that he's joking just to watch her break down because he reignited her hopes. Tyrian's just as creepy, as displayed when he is unfazed by the threat, even cutting himself on Emerald's blade just to show how unfazed he truly is. To my shock, Mercury actually steps in and tells Tyrian to back off. Yes, Mercury. I still hate him for Volume 3, but you know what? Mercury you won a point! Good job dude! Tyrian goes on to say that hes also upset, because they have failed their goddess. He starts to laugh manically as the three just walk away, Emerald clearly unnerved. You know what Tyrian Go back to sleep. No one missed you!

A bit later, the trio is standing before a clearly unhappy Salem. At first her demeanor is clam as she asks Hazel how the mission failed before rephrasing the question into asking who it is that's responsible for the failure. Hazel accepts the blame... which may be the noble thing, but it turns out to be the wrong answer. Salem rises, outright throwing the table aside as she points out that they all know who is to blame. She then summons up some of those Grimm tentacle arms that we saw in the opening, which proceed to hold Hazel own and I assume may be suffocating him. Well if I wasn't afraid of Salem before, this chapter fixed that! Thanks a lot CRWBY!

Salem turns to Emerald for an answer and terrified out of her mind, the third admits that it was Cinder who caused the failure. This is what Salem was working for as she tells Emerald to come to understand the failure... and that it is why Cinder must be isolated until she redeems himself. Emerald and Mercury are shocked to hear that Cinder is alive with even Watts questioning how Salem would know that. But he takes it back when Tyrian points out that he's questioning their 'savior', aka the scary Grimm lay whose still potentially suffocating Hazel. Salem tells them of how they shouldn't put their desires above her own,a after all only she can lead them to those desires. Damn, and I thought her God complex in the backstory was bad...

Finally Salem frees Hazel, saying that they have to press on. She starts to make plans to get the Relic of Destruction from Vacuo... until Hazel says that he has more to report. He reveals that the heroes are on their way to Atlas with the Relic... and are being led by Ozpin. Well good thing that none of them know about the current discourse, haha. The fact that Ozpin is already back understandably concerns everyone... when the windows suddenly start to crack. We see Salem resonating dark energy as she coldly, but firmly tells everyone to leave. They all comply, Hazel even pulling away poor Emerald, as she just looks on in shock before the doors close. Salem seems to calm down at first...before letting out an angry shout, the windows shattering to pieces. Sure hope that she has an interior decorator on hand.

Back with the good guys, they're all still clearly upset and tense from everything. At this point, they just want to get the Relic mission over with. The snow is continuing to fall with no sign of stopping however when Ruby hears something. The group stumbles upon what seems to be an abandoned farm called Burkshire Farms. Since the snow isn't going to let up, they decide to take shelter there and get some rest. And the chapter ends with our heroes passing through the gate, the only background sound being that of the cold, blowing winds.

Review

Damn, for a thirteen minute episode, this episode caused a LOOOT of discourse. Not bad discourse mind you, I haven't seen anyone call this a bad episode. And it isn't. This was a very good, well-written episode showcasing our heroes emotions as all that they learned settle in. There re of course a lot of things that need to be talked about, and we're going to get there. But lets go ahead and get the villains out of the way before we dive into the deep stuff.

Now that we have the backstory, this entire moment felt a lot more unnerving than any of the villains previous scenes. First, Tyrian is just as creepy as he was in Volume 4. His blind praising of Salem comes off as even more disturbing now that we know that she HAS presented herself as a God so long ago. He's pretty much a devout cult fanatic willing to do anything for the one that he worships and is so clearly sick and twisted in how he mocks Emerald. Yeah I hate Cinder and I think that Emerald would be better without her in her life, but MAN mocking the poor girl about Cinder's apparent demise like that was just... wrong. Oh God was it wrong. But still, kudos to Mercury finally showing some decency and standing up for Emerald. Nice to see that he DOES have a soul... to a degree, but hey he's better than Tyrian.

I am also just loving Hazel more and more. He may be on the bad guys side, but he's clearly the most noble of the bunch. He was willing to take the full blame for the failures, even though Cinder 100% deserves to be blamed, and actively seemed to be looking out for Emerald as well. It shows that the villains aren't just the 'mwahaha lets do bad things cause BAD!' kinds of villains. I like those kinds of villains when done right, like The Joker and (if it pans out well in S17) Genkins in the current Red vs Blue storyline. Hell, Felix (who Miles also created) can probably count from that show also. But its also good to see when the bad guys have depth and deeper emotions to them. It makes them all the more compelling as characters. Right now Hazel, who displays many noble traits, and Emerald, a terrified girl stuck in a very bad position, are probably the most compelling and I am greatly looking forward to what the story has in store for them.

And of course there's Salem. Now that we've seen how she fell down the wrong path, it makes her all the more terrifying here. While you feel sympathy for her throughout last chapter's flashback, here? You have no idea what she's going to do, and it's unnerving. Up until last week, Salem was an intimidating but very calm figure. Her demeanor never broke, at worst she raised her voice like... once. Even when Leo told her about the plan's failure,s he looked almost bored at the news as she silently had her Grimm kill him. But now? She goes form still calm to throwing tables, nearly suffocating Hazel,a and using blatant emotional manipulation on Emerald to put all of hr minions in line. I'll give her this, she did look legit sad about having to leave Cinder behind and she is giving her a chance to redeem herself, but still. When she finally snaps, I was in the same state as Emerald: shocked and fearful. With Ozpin now back, chances are Salem is going to double down on her efforts, and the results are not going to be pretty.

Alright, with that out of the way, lets get to the heroes side of things. Now there isn't a lot to say about the ending. That's clearly setting up for next week and is just them entering an abandoned farm. So while I've got worries, especially since that one tunnel looked a LOT like the one Ruby was in during the opening, we're just going to see what happens next week. But with how this volume has been so far, be very afraid. For now though, lets talk about the aftermath of Ozpin's secrets being revealed, and the fallout that came with it.

There has been a LOT of debate about the characters actions these past three chapters. Was it right to use the Relic to find out Ozpin's secrets? I'm gonna say no, especially for what we found out, but as I said before after all this time they had the right to know. But clearly none of them were prepared for it. Now the better thing to have done was seek shelter first, clam down, talk about it, and if Ozpin kept refusing then at worst they could get the Relic when he wasn't in control or something and asked the question. But considering the circumstances, there was no way that they were going to do the sensible thing. So yeah, they just found out Ozpin's dark backstory and find out that Salem can't be defeated.

So here's the first thing that I want to address. While the way that everyone reacts was NOT the way to go about it, the emotions that they feel? Those are 100% justified. Look, I feel horrible for Ozpin and again, they could have handled how they reacted to it a LOT better. But they also just found out that it looks like Salem can't be defeated. Ozpin has no plan. He is leading them on a suicide mission. One where yeah, they can fight back and thwart Salem's plans over and over, but it will in the end mean nothing. Now I do think that Ozpin is ultimately doing the best that he can in his current situation, after all it's better to fight back than just throw your hands up and wait for death to come. But if you were in a war where in the end, the bad guy couldn't be defeated and you had to fight endlessly, knowing that you will die in vain, how would you feel? I think I'd just outright break down if I were put int hat position. Of course they're going to be angry about it. They just got all of this dumped onto them (and yeah it is kind of their own fault for not considering that, but still), we can't expect them to just be okay with it. They're reacting to their immediate emotions an hopefully, now that they have a chance to breathe, they can look at everything and calm down.

Ozpin is also justified in his reaction. Yeah locking himself away and indirectly meaning that Oscar has to feel the brunt of the aggression was shitty, but you can understand hwy. He new that if anyone knew the truth he'd get the blame and everyone would be angry at him. As hurt as he seemed by Qrow's reaction, eh didn't seem shocked about it either. Heck, eh didn't seem to blame any of them for how they reacted, even saying that maybe they were right. He's holding onto so much guilt and as he feared, with the truth out no one trusts him and blame him for it. There a LOT of morality questions about if Ozpin hiding all that he did was right or not. I think at the very least, those working for him need to know and if he' was honest about it, they'd have probably been uncertain and scared, but they may have still sided with him in hopes of one day finding a solution. Ozpin painted himself as a liar and untrustworthy and no matter how understandable it is, it was in the end the wrong thing to do. But again, it's really hard to blame him since that knowledge would likely cause panic and get them all killed sooner. He was screwed no matter what he did.

In the end, my opinion is that both sides are right and wrong. QRWBY are right to be angry and upset with all the revelations, but getting angry and outright punching poor Oscar was going too far. Ozpin's shouldn't have lied and lead people on regardless of the reasons, but he's also a clearly damaged person who has been trying to make things right despite all the hopelessness surrounding his situation. All of the reactions have been very human and emotional. This is probably why it's a good thing that we have a character like Maria in all of this. She is someone who seems wise and is uninvolved in the conflict. She can look at both sides without bias and understand why everyone feels how they feel, but can also bring attention to what their emotions are blinding them to. Seriously, with her helping Oscar, taking none of Yang's shit, and getting them all to actually focus on not dying, Maria has become an instant favorite. I love her!

So now lets talk about the part that I did not like. That is Qrow's jab at Oscar. Now the punch was harsh, put he clearly meant it for Ozpin so I can look at it as him reacting in blind anger. I still want him to apologize to Oscar later, but I can understand and forgive that. What I CANNOT forgive is how he treats Oscar like he is nothing but Ozpin's vessel. Umm... asshole, no eh isn't. Ruby was NOT lying to him when she assured him that he isn't just one of Oz's lives. Oscar is a young kid thrust into a very difficult, scary situation but he chose to do the right thing. He decided to train to defend himself and to help in whatever way that he can. He has a ton of baggage piled up on top of him, and so far he is handling better than many would if in his shoes. He is kind, heroic, and has a good heart. He is NOT just another of Ozpin's lives. He is Oscar Pine. He is his own person. And you have the gull to essentially put this kid down, while he's in the middle of a breakdown over his identity, because of how hurt yourself feel.

That is NOT okay.

It's not wrong toward just Oscar, but even towards Ruby. This girl is handling all of this incredibly well. She never shouts and when Oscar switched back, she was immediately concerned about him and unnerved by her team's reactions. And after all of it, because of how kind of a person she is, she tries to assure this clearly troubled kid that he is not just one of Ozpin's lives. He is his own person. And you berate her for lying. You told Ruby, your own niece, that she is a liar because she tried to comfort someone and assure them that they are more than what they think that they are. Look, I know that Qrow is upset and hurt. I do feel bad for him. But that jab was just... unnecessarily cruel towards both Oscar and Ruby. I am really hoping that Qrow will realize this later and apologize for that because Oscar has done NOTHING wrong. Hell, he's the one who told them about the Relic, so clearly he's on their side. I probably feel worst for Oscar than anyone else and I really hope that the volume cuts him a break soon. But yeah, that just... really made me uncomfortable.

So... what happens now? I think that everyone will either start to calm down or it just lingers before someone finally snaps. Regardless, clearly something is going to happen in this abandoned farm. Going off past episode, abandoned anywhere in this show is bad. Lets just hope that for our heroes sakes, they can work through this.

Final Thoughts

This was the perfect followup. The characters emotions are perfectly displayed, Salem is more horrifying than ever, and I just felt tense and on edge throughout. We all were expecting the fallout to be bad, but boy IDT we were expecting this. It's been one Hell of a ride so far, and we're not even halfway done yet. Lets hope that it doesn't run out of steam before then. As far as this chapter goes though, it was an emotional punch to what is already an emotional situation, and I'm probably going to be recovering from it until next week. Good work CRWBY!

#rwby #rwby6 #rwby reviews #callie reviews

19 notes · View notes

roseprints · 6 years

Text

Alright (Mercury Black)

Pained, labored breathing had filled the otherwise empty room where Mercury Black slept. Trickles of sweat glided down his forehead, pricked at the back of his neck, leaving a damp imprint to sit darker against his shirt. Mercury tossed in his bed, the covers long ago tossed off and his pillow on the floor. Noises left the young man's throat, as if he wanted to talk through his sleep, but couldn't quite get anything out. The clear signs of nightmares wracked his body as bad memories were relived through his dreams.

"Come on boy, you have to push harder than that!"

Mercury's smaller body hit the ground as the older man before him threw yet another punch to his stomach. The preteen's gray eyes shut in pain as he felt his arms give in from holding him up. His banged-up body hit the grass of their backyard, the cool blades feeling slightly good against his bruising skin. Mercury lifted himself back up, now sitting on his knees to hold himself with one shaky arm. "Dad" his voice came out weak and exhausted, "no more tonight, I can't…"

"You can't? The weak get nowhere in this world, now get back up and finish this fight!" Mercury wavered as he forced himself back up. He was bent over slightly, hands braced on his knees as he took a moment to breathe. Suddenly he bolted forward towards his father while throwing punches and kicks that were only blocked by the older assassin. Mercury cried out, falling back to the ground as his father punch caught him by the side of his jaw. Blood dripped from his mouth, though Mercury only saw it through blurred vision. "Weak." Marcus Black spat, "have you learned nothing from your training?" The older man's boot hit his side, causing Mercury to fall completely to the ground, exhausted and unable to get back up.

Mercury's eyes opened, his body shooting up from the bed. Mercury breathed heavily for a few seconds, a hand coming up to comb through his disheveled hair. He closed his eyes, why was all of this coming back now? Mercury turned to look around the small room of the inn. It was dim with the lack of nighttime air breezing in from the cracked window. The young man got out of bed, moving to slip his shoes on. With the hot summer air outside sleepwear on, his shorts leaving his cybernetic prosthetics on display. Usually, he opted to cover them up, not necessarily because he was ashamed or nervous to show them off, but because it saved him from the staring of others and their prying questions.

How'd you get those prosthetics?

What happened?

Tedious questions that he never favored to answer.

The sticky summer air was somewhat refreshing against his flushed and hot skin. Cinder and Emerald were still asleep in their own room. They'd stopped at this in a few hours ago, taking a break to sleep somewhere other than outside while making the journey to Beacon. They were in the middle of making way through a long stretch of forest land, leaving the towns rather spread apart. Mercury walked along the dirt path leading away from the in. With arms folded behind his head, he closed his eyes with a deep sigh.

Though nightmares of his father weren't plentiful, they certainly were not unheard of for him. Sometimes they came, usually, it seemed random to Mercury, who tried his best to remain unaffected and unphased by them. He wasn't too keen on the idea of spilling the fact that he had nightmares to the girls, Cinder especially. She'd have a field day with the idea, he knew it. They were all the same to Mercury, the same voice of his deceased father. The same particular nights of beatings, training as Marcus would claim, replaying through his dreams.

Of course, the worse ones were always of that night. He already remembered that night well, but his nightmares seemed persistent in reminding him of the details. The big fight with his father, how hard it had been to do; not emotionally or anything, but hard in the sense that Mercury had been tired. Tired of fighting, at his breaking point, wanting nothing more than to prove he was strong enough to get his semblance back from him. He could remember the utter disappointment and fear he felt when his semblance remained gone, seemingly forever lost to his father's own. The heat of flames as he set the fire that left his childhood home to ash, how badly his legs had ached form the injuries he sustained and how attempts to tourniquet them did so little as he limped away, bruised up but feeling oddly free now. And of course, Cinder and Emerald had been there, looking for Marcus, but instead gaining him.

Mercury sighed as he stopped to lean against the fence around the inn's property, looking up the blues and blacks that made up the sky. Not many clouds were out tonight, leaving the shattered form of the moon high in the night sky, glowing faintly. Letting his gaze drop down to the grass, Mercury subconsciously tapped his foot upon thoughts of how he'd injured his legs back then. Hot nights like these always reminded him of those training sessions in the backyard.

The soft gravel of footsteps alerted and drew Mercury's mind from his memories, prompting him to turn and look into the dark in time to spot Emerald walking up. "What are you doing up?" She asked, coming to join at his side.

"I could as you the same thing." He scoffed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck as he hoped she hadn't spotted any of the emotions on his face as he'd been thinking.

She rolled her eyes, moving to lean beside him. "I just needed some air."

"What, bad dreams?" He teased.

She scoffed, "the same could go for you." She jabbed back.

"I don't have nightmares" he played it off, though slightly defensively. Emerald hummed, not saying anything, but keeping her eyes fixed on him.

"You okay?" She asked, "you look pale."

"Oh, is Emerald's concerned?"

"You're impossible." She rolled her eyes, pushing herself up from the fence. "I'm going back to the inn. You should too, were leaving first thing tomorrow." She began to walk up, though stopped to turn her head back to him. "Oh, and Mercury?"

"What?" He sighed, looking back up to her.

"You're going to be alright." She said, though didn't stick around long to enough to elaborate or catch his reaction.

Mercury pressed his lips into a thin line as he looked back up at the sky, not wanting Emerald to catch on, though he was positive she already knew what had been going on with him. "Thanks" he spoke, his voice falling a bit short, not loud enough to reach her disappearing form. He chipped at the fences wood, his head resting in the side of his head. Yeah… he thought, his semblance and his father in mind, I'll be fine.

#rwby volume 6 #rwby spoilers #rwby #mercuryblack #emeraldsundae #rwby v3 #semblance #marcusblack #cinder fall #prerwby

2 notes · View notes

chest-mimic · 6 years

Text

Long text post about putting Neo back in RWBY for a story arc

Been thinking about RWBY recently because of BB:CTB, and just some ways I would write the series. One thought came into my head that I figured was unlikely enough to actually happen to be worth sharing.

What if Neo was Jaune's sister?

As best as I can remember, there's nothing on screen that happens to make it impossible. The only times they would have met (during the tournament), Neo is in disguise. We know for a fact Jaune has seven sisters, and Neo's last name is currently unknown. She doesn't come up in conversation much, and team JNPR isn't involved in the Roman/White Fang stuff. And it's not out there to think any time Ruby or Yang mentioned Neo, the connection just doesn't click. Maybe she's got hair dye or dresses unlike what Jaune would have known. Hell, maybe Jaune did know and kept his mouth shut. Point is, it's possible with a little effort. And if the series can muddy how aura works, some rando on the internet can work with a contrivance.

So, fun fan theory with circumstantial evidence. What could someone actually do with this detail? The first thought I had was it provides a possible way for Jaune to have gotten through the vetting system, AND gives us a reason for Ozpin to have missed it, all in one go. With Blake, it's implied Ozpin let her in because her background and credentials were enough that he could trust her, and at worst he'd keep his eye on a potential spy. Jaune doesn't have the kind of history that would appeal to Ozpin's weird brand of preparation. And as funny as that Dumb RWBY comic is (http://eunnieverse.tumblr.com/post/123075118473/i-dont-care-what-his-transcripts-say-that), it's more likely that Jaune would have needed the help of someone with a reputation.

We know Cinder has ties to Lionheart, one of Ozpin's most trusted allies, early enough to pass as one of his students. So Neo slipping in a nonverbal "hey give my bro a letter of recommendation" (or convincing Roman to ask for it) with some implied violence thrown in isn't out of the question. Had Cinder found out, just pretend Jaune is a potential pawn with delicious blackmail attached. Leo writes something convincing about how grades aren't everything, Jaune is in with the knowledge that his recommendation had a moral cost, Team Kill All Humans has a potential mole that they never end up needing to use, and Ozpin is none the wiser. The series wouldn't need this specific of an explanation for what amounts to a bureaucratic loophole, but who looks at Jaune in volume 1 pinned to a tree and goes "yup that's super hero potential right there".

Incidentally, it could also provide a reason Tyrian singles out Jaune as an interesting person. He can't be a maiden and he's not a wizard (at least we all hope), but family of an ex-coworker in his line of work is worth keeping tabs on.

Okay, enough retcon work on logistics. Where could the series actually go with this? First and foremost, Neo has to show up for it to mean anything. Last we saw Neo, she was "gently" floating down from the sky in the middle of a Grimm attack. But any genre savvy supervillain knows that not seeing the body means they may as well be perfectly fine. In addition, Ozpin's initiation for the first year students is to launch them off of a cliff into the forest. Weird as it is, if he's expecting total newbies to survive the fall, why can't Neo?

With Roman gone, there's not much reason for Neo to stick with Cinder's group. The White Fang stopped working with our big bad, Neo isn't a faunus and can't expect any protection under Adam the Edgehog. Plus, she has no reason to actually go after Ruby or Yang. It's not like they're hard to find, and even if they were, Ruby's going off to pick a fight with Salem, the lady who is so scary Raven is afraid to openly confront her. Considering Neo's reaction to even seeing Raven, we can get a sense of scale for how strong she thinks Salem is. If revenge was a motive, from Neo's perspective Ruby's pretty much doing it for her. So Neo, surviving a brush with death and having a hand in the potential end of mankind, goes home to take a nap.

Team Ruby's friends, following the road to plot, wind up getting near Jaune's hometown. Because it was so conveniently on the way. How convenient. The writers can play it off as wanting to show how a non-huntsman supported town thrives. And since this is RWBY, the answer is probably big guns taped to things that probably aren't guns, so yay more anime guns. But now in the hands of a population with no idea that Huntsmen can be made bullet proof (recall Jaune had to be told what Aura is and how it worked after initiation began). Yeah, World of Remnant covered that, but that's a conversation for another day. Point is, we the audience get to see it in action.

The team exploring town eventually would get to Ruby and Yang finding Neo. Or maybe the whole team. I'm trying to keep this from being straight up fanfiction, but since this is a post about justifying a bit of fanservice, let's just say a rematch occurs because they can't escape from crossing fate. Jaune steps in before a winner is confirmed to point out they're fighting his sister, to which Ruby or Yang rebuts with a reference to the attempted murder.

Now the meat of the potential conflict. Ruby and Jaune stand on opposite ends of a very serious accusation. Ruby has to deal with the fact that one of her friends is related to someone who tried to kill her and her family, Jaune has to accept that his sister is part of the reason Beacon fell, and neither one is going to turn on their family for no reason. Any of what happens next depends on what kind of person Neo is.

Yang already had her lesson in forgiveness in V5, but Ruby hasn't been in the same boat. Weiss's reason for leaving the team was very different than Blake's, and Ruby seemed initially more open to forgiving what Blake had done. Having Jaune defend her assailant would be a betrayal of Ruby's trust, but she's fully capable of understanding wanting to protect your sibling.

The group travelling all have different ideas about dealing with dangerous opponents, but have all been more or less following Ozpin. Yet the limits of Ozpin's knowledge are vague, and whether he's willing to take that chance on someone who is okay at best is unlikely after Lionheart. Neo being relateded to Jaune could give Ruby an important moment of leadership by deciding if the two can be trusted. This might even lead to usurping Ozpin and Qrow's choices as the de facto correct path, or casting out Jaune and Neo as potential threats they can't risk having around. Depending on how it's done, it can even tie back to how Jaune's forgery making or breaking the final decision.

There's more I could write on the topic, but it's already pretty long and I just want to get across a couple possible writing choices that could be made with one additional character background detail. There's flaws in my proposal, like why would Neo have aura unlocked and not Jaune, but a decent writer could fill those holes with good character defining or world building moments. I like RWBY, flaws and all, but I'd love to see more use of side characters instead of just making a new one every time the writers needed more conflict. Maybe I'm making assumptions about characters that I shouldn't be making for this proposal to even work. But if the alternative is getting more new characters established for two scenes then never seen again, then what's wrong with a little bit of fanservice.

Tl;dr give us more Neo.

#RWBY #neopolitian (rwby)#ruby rose #jaune arc #writing experiment

6 notes · View notes

marbelmasnowshoe · 6 years

Text

Forged in Flames (Part 3)

Three Years Later…

Marbelma’s light shined brightly as it traveled down her arms and into the end of her wooden hammer, before she slammed it against the draenei’s wooden shield. After years of tutelage, not only was she stronger, faster, and a more adept fighter, but months of dedicated prayer, faith, and vindication paid off. The Light not only manifested in her hands, but Marbelma found that it was strong with her.

She continued to hammer away on the other squire’s wooden shield until it finally shattered. The young draenei woman cried in surprise as she fell over, the dwarf pouncing and jumping on her stomach like a trampoline, pointing the hammer into her face. “I win.” she gloated.

“Well done, Marbelma.” Rhyliaandra congratulated from the sidelines. She turned to the other Exodar Vindicator. “Looks like your student still needs work, Jul. She lost to an opponent half her size.”

Marbelma beamed with pride as she hopped off the draenei and hefted her hammer over her shoulder. After the end of the War Against the Lich King, Rhyliaandra returned home to Azuremyst Isle, taking Marbelma with her, to continue the dwarf’s apprenticeship. Marbles had a natural talent for combat. Despite an obvious size disadvantage, she was able to overwhelm most of the other apprentice vindicators in sparring sessions though sheer fury.

But as the Lich King fell, a new threat had surfaced on Azeroth - literally. Deathwing had broken out of his prison in Deepholm and tore the world asunder. The situation got so bad, that many Alliance citizens flocked to the Exodar, seeking Prophet Velen’s council and guidance. Velen was able to calm the situation before it got too out of hand - calming the humans enough to convince them to go home and face the new world wrought by this thing that was already being called “The Cataclysm.”

Marbelma burned. The more she had heard over the last few months about events across Azeroth, the more she burned for action. Entire regions hit hard by natural disasters. New, unexplored territories revealed to the world. A mysterious new threat, known as the Twilight’s Hammer, acting as Deathwing’s army, enslaving elementals and setting them loose on the world.

But what burned Marbelma most were the tales of renewed Horde aggression. A new “Warchief” had risen to power and was deadset on making the world his. His armies were tearing apart the ancestral home of the night elves, friends and allies to the draenei ever since they crash-landed on Azeroth. They’d continue marching north, all the way to Teldrassil, and even to Azuremyst Isle unless someone stops them.

Rhyliaandra had made it clear to Marbelma that they were to wait until called. Someone had to watch the homefront, after all. But the thought of sitting here and waiting made her feel useless.

She hated feeling useless. Helpless. Cowering in a closet while the ones you cared about are slaughtered. Marbelma vowed never again to hide and cower.

Roniaar trotted up to Rhyliaandra and Marbelma as they wrapped up their training session. “Arkanon Poros, friends!” the shaman greeted. “How goes the training?”

“Well.” Rhyliaandra curtly replied. She always seemed to hold her brother in disdain, and Marbelma didn’t exactly blame her. The dwarf had nothing against shamanism - Roniaar proved the effectiveness of elemental combat back in Northrend. Rather, it was Roniaar himself that the dwarf was beginning to find grating. The drinking, the womanizing, the horrible puns - the man was an unapologetic hedonist. No wonder he chose the path of the shaman - he never would’ve cut it as a paladin.

“Well, I’ve got some news - you’ve been summoned to battle.” Roniaar said as she handed his vindicator sister a scroll. As Rhyliaandra took the scroll and read it, Marbelma could barely contain her excitement. Finally! Back on the front lines!

“Where we goin’?” Marbelma asked.

“Somewhere that isn’t too far from here.” Roniaar replied. “Mount Hyjal. The druids there have created a portal into the Firelands and are preparing to defeat Ragnaros the Firelord once and for all.”

Ragnaros? Wasn’t he the one the Dark Irons worshipped? Marbelma would get to kill the god of a hated enemy of the Bronzebeard clan? Sounds good to her!

“It says here we’ll be with the rear guard.” Rhyliaandra said. “It will fall to us to protect Hyjal from counterattack by Ragnaros’s forces?”

“Indeed.” Roniaar replied.

“Rear guard?” Marbelma asked, a little disappointed.

“Don’t worry, Marbles. The fire elementals’ counterattacks have been vicious. There will be no shortage of action on either side of the portal.” Roniaar explained. He smiled.

“In fact, you could say the situation up there is really heating up.”

Marbelma and Rhyliaandra both groaned.

One trip to a mage and a portal later, the three of them arrived on Mount Hyjal. Marbelma strained her neck looking up and up and up at the world tree, Nordrassil. It lived up to its title, being perhaps the single tallest thing she had ever seen. There was little time to sight-see, however, as the two draenei hopped atop their elekks and began their long march down the mountain road, with Marbelma riding along with Rhyliaandra on her elekk, which was more heavily armored than Roniaar’s.

Through the Circle of Cinders, past the Shrine of Goldrinn and the Grove of Aessina, before finally arriving at the Sanctuary of Malorne, the makeshift base of operations for the Guardians of Hyjal. Night had fallen, but it was already time to go to work. The three of them were told to head into the regrowth and rescue as much wildlife as they could from the encroaching fire elementals.

Not since Northrend had Marbelma seen Rhyliaandra leap into action, cutting down the fiery spirits with the Light’s wrath. Roniaar was no slouch either, calling upon the powers of the wind to snuff out the flames. The two draenei siblings shepherded the fleeing wildlife out of the forest and towards the Sanctuary of Malorne. Marbelma saw everything from tiny little squirrels to majestic stags to mighty grizzly bears, all fleeing before the advancing flames.

She stayed mostly to the sidelines. Officially, her job was to watch the elekks, but she suspected the great beasts were watching her just as closely. It didn’t take her long to develop an admiration for the strange-looking beasts that hailed from the draenei’s old home, Draenor, before the Horde came and ruined everything for them. Seemed like the Horde ruined everything for everyone.

And yet…

In the distance, she could spot Horde. They were fighting fire elementals too - brutish orcs and crafty blood elves fighting alongside noble humans and nature-loving night elves. She didn’t know how to feel about it. On the one hand, she supposed the Guardians of Hyjal could use all the help if could get and it was nice to see those damn savages making themselves useful for once. But the Alliance and Horde were at war, weren’t they? Why the truce?

Once the two draenei came over for a break and sharpen their weapons, Marbelma asked them just that. “Simple - it’s because both Alliance and Horde realize that there’s BIGGER things to worry about.” Roniaar answered. “Which, at the moment, happens to be an invasion of angry fire people.”

“Yes, it’s always SOMETHING, I’ve noticed.” Rhyliaandra scoffed. “First it was demons trying to open a gateway in the sunwell. Then it was undead up in Northrend. And now it’s an army of cultists and elementals lead by a mad dragon aspect. Why must we cease our crusade against the Horde every time a so-called ‘greater threat’ emerges?”

“Because the greater threat is usually exactly that - a [i]greater[/i] threat.” Roniaar argued. “Being more concerned with the Horde than with this is like being more concerned with a stain on your shirt than your house on fire.”

“But it [i]keeps happening.[/i]” Rhyliaandra seethed. “Don’t you get it? Every truce we forge is nothing more than a delay of the final blow. I grow weary of this endless stalemate between Alliance and Horde. Why don’t we just finish it already?”

“Well, Deathwing is the one who’s insisting on interrupting our little war with his campaign to destroy the world. So, if you’ve got a problem with the truce, take it up with him.” Roniaar said.

“It doesn’t surprise me that you would advocate working with those creatures.” Rhyliaandra growled.

“Uh, guys?”

“What’s THAT supposed to mean?” Roniaar asked.

“Bad enough you practice shamanism, an orcish magic, but you actually WORK for those monsters.” Rhyliaandra accused.

“We’ve been over this, Rhyli - I don’t work for the Horde, I work for the Earthen Ring. Big difference.”

“Semantics! How could you work with those green-skinned fiends? After everything they’ve done to our people! To all the Alliance!”

“Guys.”

“Because I don’t waste time dwelling on the past, Rhyliaandra. Hating the Horde isn’t going to bring back mother and father.”

“Well, working with the Horde won’t bring [i]her[/i] back either, Roniaar.”

“Who’s her?”

“Oh, I think you know who. Did you really think that I wouldn’t - “

“Guys!”

“What?!” the two draenei shouted at Marbelma. The dwarf pointed over to a particularly large fire elemental burning its way through the forest in the distance, sending dozens of beasts and critters running for cover.

“We can discuss this later.” Roniaar said as he hopped atop his elekk, Rhyliaandra hopping atop hers and carrying Marbelma with her. A snap of the reigns and the two large beats stampeded their way into battle with all the confidence that came with being a ten thousand pound mammal.

Rhyliaandra’s elekk crashed into the hulking elemental while Roniaar’s chose to circle around as the shaman blasted the creature with bolts of lightning. The elemental roared as it directed its fury towards the two upstart draenei. Marbelma, no longer content to simply stay on the sidelines, took the risk of heading in closer to the action.

In her eagerness however, she tripped on something. She fell to the ground hard and looked over at what had tripped her. A branch, maybe? A root?

It was a corpse.

She had tripped on the talon of a charred hippogryph corpse. She gasped as she saw what the flames had done to the once-majestic beast. She saw many hippogryphs used by the Argent Crusade during the Argent Tournament, and she always thought they were beautiful animals. Her heart wept to see one like this.

But how did it die? Hippogryphs should be the ones most capable of escaping the flames, what with the flying and all. She looked around spotted her answer - a nest, high up in the tree above her. This hippogryph must’ve been a mother, unwilling to abandon her eggs, even in the face of this inferno.

She cast a glance over to Rhyliaandra and Roniaar, still fighting the massive elemental. They were holding their own well enough - she’s seen them both fight off worse. They hardly needed her help. She was just a squire, after all.

But a squire can still climb a tree.

You wouldn’t think of dwarves as being able climbers, with their stout physiques and all, but that’s because you’ve never seen one climb a mountain before. Climbing was an essential skill just for day-to-day survival up in the peaks of Dun Morogh. So this tree posed little challenge to Marbelma, even if it was a little on fire.

Marbelma finally reached the nest and saw the prize - a single, lonely egg. It was surrounded by the busted shells of its siblings, little baby hippogryph corpses still in them. This egg was lucky enough to still be intact. Marbelma reached out for it, and grabbed it. It was hot to the touch, but she could handle a little heat. She stuck the egg in her backpack and began to climb down.

And that’s when she noticed the fire elemental staring her down.

Somehow, it had stomped over without the young dwarf hearing it. She panicked and looked around. Where was Rhyliaandra? Or Roniaar? She spotted them fighting off a pack of those fire snake things. Where did those guys come from?

“You…” the elemental said in a booming voice. “Are a child of fire…”

“What?!” Marbelma asked.

“The Rage of the Firelands burns within you…” it said slowly.

“What are ye on about ye overgrown pilot light?!” Marbelma shouted, hoping that an insult will mask her terror.

“Embrace your destiny, as your kin have…” it said. “Serve the Firelord…And all those who have wronged you will burn…”

Marbelma growled. “I don’t even know what yer talkin’ about, but I’ll never join you! I’m a paladin! And a paladin never joins the side of evil!” she shouted at the creature. She left out the part that she was only a squire. It didn’t need to know that.

“Then burn…” The elemental said as it raised up a huge fiery fist. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning from above struck the elemental in the face. Marbelma looked up and saw Roniaar, riding atop his wind drake - a strange sort of dragon that the shaman somehow acquired in the Throne of Four Winds a few months back.

“Hold on, Marbles!” Roniaar cried as he conjured a torrent of wind to lift up Marbelma from the tree and carry her a safe distance. “Head back to the Sanctuary!”

As she landed safely on the ground, she saw Roniaar’s drake dart around the elemental’s head as he continued firing lightning bolts at the massive creature. What was that thing even talking about, calling her a “child of fire?” She didn’t know. All she knew was that it wasn’t safe here.

She looked inside her bag, satisfied that the hippogryph egg was still whole and in one piece. She smiled. She saved a life today, at least. No doubt Rhyliaandra will give her a good lecture about it once the fighting subsides, but it’ll be worth it. She closed the pack and ran for the Sanctuary of Malorne as fast as he little dwarven legs could carry her.

#Marbelma #Marbelma Snowshoe #World of Warcraft #Wyrmrest Accord #RP

1 note · View note

surfersofbole · 4 years

Text

Going to Fall: What will you do?

This is the fifth installment in my “Going to Fall” series, which is based on Bob Dylan’s “A Hard Rain’s a-Gonna Fall.”

What will you do?

Here, your father must now mention if God has seemed unjust, unkind, then, have you paid him no attention? Our sins are many, of great kinds; punishment ‘s held with retention

not unlike the water vapor within the clouds above the world. All the clouds won’t harm a scraper, but rain upon a cardboard home turns the walls into soaked paper.

I can sense your apprehension, and I can sense your broken pride. Do you have some great dissension? Well, now, just take your small asides to relieve any contention.

Some of us find things enlightening when we must live in heavy dark. Lightning rods control the frightening and brightening flash of the short night. Umbrellas keep th’ tensions tightening.

You would think there’d be prevention - that God himself would take the lead. God wants no Earthly dimension and so he goes ahead, concedes rain must fall without suspension.

What will you do, my blue-eyed son? Somethings are hard to answer. Some… What will you do, darling young one? Think you that I should know this thing? Morning comes now with the bright sun.

Going back out before the rain starts falling

I wake up scared as hell that things are going wrong. Why? I was not quite sure of what was going on. My mind was in a cell. I lie down quietly. The motionless allure of a ceiling, empty...

A day begins anew. Will I ever arise? A thunder I have heard; the skies will be disguised. The rainclouds now accrue. I’m scared to leave this place; though, maybe I’m absurd, and I should go/make haste.

I’ll walk the beaten path; I know it will be short. All the small excursions other souls couldn’t afford... I'll face the wanton wrath because the world will fear I am leading an incursion with my mouth that all’ll hear.

The depths of the deepest, black forest

Electrified air climbs to clustered cotton fluff; screams turn to grumbles.

Some schwarzwald sunshine prawns prowl blister-black water - ice of a night sky.

Sharp whistles whittle brittle branch and bark, bitter for the burning blight.

Hollow trees topple. Then, forests from dying flames born of detritus.

The people are many, their hands are all empty

Xerotic mouths agape, facade of night entreats a dreamer thirsting not the light, "neglect a cleanly state and state that you ordain the rain to fall as it is due."

Disguising no intentions with delight, obsessed with obfuscating appetite, come cumulating nimbus clouds above haranguing with each lightning strike thereof.

In time, hard rains again will lift the plight and everyone will be an acolyte lest all the clouds they see move out of sight.

The pellets of poison flooding their waters

(The vending machine hums softly. A whirring and some clinking kick off a habit, and I press a button. A quarter? I try again. In the mechanism, it moves. Thunk. Mother's approval.)

Someone's swimming in the pool.

Crystalline medium with waving surface dances the light upon the ceiling.

Diving at the deep, he sinks into the bottom for the longest moment until he is diluted by the dark.

I sit beside the edge, staring.

No manacles bind us to the station we submit.

Someone's swimming in the pool, but I've a job to do. "Refill the canister with two chlorine tablets. Lock up and leave."

The home in the valley meets the damp, dirty prison

I walk to where the sidewalk ends en masse, past the concrete's blend with grass and the footstep-muddled pastures.

I found the last spot God had cried: an oasis that has dried in the desert of this life.

The rain is not the coldest where the trees have met the forest and the mountain meets the valley.

The executioner’s face, always well hidden

At mass, the priest, in his white, polyester robes, stood among pink roses.

"I say, precious Lord, look upon us and see not injustice; instead, find hope."

Among the heightened exaltations of the chorus, water came down upon us.

Back when crimes against the Lord and his people were punishable, men like Christ and Beckett, with their deaths, made leaders grovel.

King, bearing a new weight, shouldered a poor people's campaign; in his memory, we hid this struggle. In this new poor people's campaign, shall hidden faces make another man infamous?

"Do this in memory of me."

The word of the Lord makes requisite that we do things in memory of others that perhaps, through us, they could live on. Such a cause as theirs is worth perpetuating; such a love as theirs is the great communion.

"Mass has ended. You may go in peace"

Hunger is ugly, souls are forgotten

Oysters - pried apart with pearls squeezed from their soft flesh - are discarded shells that cleansed murky waterways. Layered nacre anchors banks.

Black is the color, none is the number

For the briefest second, worlds are colorful and palm fronds, like percussion sections, fill the wind with scratching sound. As raindrops themselves drive through darkness into broken asphalt, thunder-crash! The crack in night, it vanished while a youth in leather shoes and wetting socks went running to a covered walkway. Hole-filled pockets bore some grimed receipts, old notes, worn cards, and damaged pictures in a wallet that was drawn up. She inserted plastic; as the m'chine slow- processed four fast digits, vehicles blurred past and disappear until, at last, a menu let her check the balance. Black in text, a zero showed up. Buzzing lights then flickered; rain felt bitter/harder.

Tell it, think it, speak it, breathe it

False flags on steel poles; you find their real goals cause hard heads to feel soles as reeled votes steal polls. Loss is a hand that's doled to thoughtless card holders; well oiled, pristine political machines need propaganda's grist cleaned and shoveled on the screens. Greed - democracy's splotch - fills you with the scotch blues; when the night is botched, sit back up to watch news. Feel cold and say burr under a cedar tree, or passover seder with Sam Seder, see his angered, sabered tongue work hard/labor long; hundreds of lungfuls from racist uncles tapered off. Like flaming fungal masses on crumpled paper, scoffed arguments hindered turn to cinder; try not to join the splintered dense blocks of tinder, dry rot. "Freedom isn't free, son..." some person breathes on as a prison's breeze comes; truth in neon: "Freedom isn't free, and it isn't freedom." Jaime Peck 'n' Michael Brooks wait with bridled facts on homicidal cops and Congress' idled acts. The left's best anchors, hosts of the Majority Report, unveil the languor of neofascist authority.

Reflect from the mountain so all souls can see it

Guinness in my system at a Regal cinema; someone said, "I miss him." Liquor mixed with cinnamon makes my throat feel dry; is that why I'm stifled? "On everyone's behalf, when we heard you laughing at Dave Rubin's gaffes, all our sides were halfing." Why am I nervous before the final curtain? "He did the world a service, that I say with certainty." "I want to drink, alright, rather than think all night; pour shots until bar fight hour is a starlight tour." Drink my Tennessee whiskey and Hennessy briskly in backgrounds of dim-lit rooms. As this dim-wit reflects, chances look slim; the future's a grim skit. Pillow to my head and sink in like lead, a stone carelessly embedded in the river bed alone.

Stand on the ocean until I start sinking

When one recollects that the keystone oft sank in the sand before standing aloft among clouds on a mountain so solid of faith and devotion, it's then that a false step compels men, "Recover!" I noticed thrombosis had felled the calm warrior, that saint among saints that is Archangel Michael; the champion of men and proponent of justice inspires l'avant-garde to claim in it's crawling a victory not pyrrhic but won with empiric- al knowledge against an- tithetical sirens that draw men towards hatred with bigotry, envy, and greed. So, surrender your voice, but renounce not your thoughts, and remember the message borne by a colossus that called out to Lazarus, "Come forth."

Know my song well before I start singing

Cantos coming soon to a year near you!

Notes

This is the order in which the poems were written: 2, 1, 4, 3, 6, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12. I plan for poem 13 to be a series of cantos based on my time walking through a park in my home town.

What will you do?

This poem was written months ago while I was still a Tumblr poet and is the introduction to the final section of the Going to Fall collection of poems I've written. The next poem will be posted when I figure out where I saved it.

The depths of the deepest, black forest

I thought I had a poem for this portion of the final section of my "Going to Fall" poetry collection, but I couldn't find it. Luckily, the haiku challenge issued for November prompted me to write this in place of the imagined poem.

The people are many, their hands are all empty

There were two prompts for this poem. The first is an obscure words poetry contest that I volunteered myself, in which I received the prompt "Xenodochial" (which means hospitable or kind to strangers). The second was from a challenge I made [for] myself [...] I had been stuck on this particular portion for months now, so I'm glad to have something appropriate and fitting.

The pellets of poison flooding their waters

Perhaps I put too much thought into a story about a guy closing up after a hallucination. The stuff in the parenthesis was typed last, but I only put it in because I could find no better way to add that the narrator is thirsty. I was going to write a twelve poem collection on this prompt, based on monthly news stories of people making the world a worse place, but the poems were scrapped. I do hope to revisit the idea under a different title.Perhaps I put too much thought into a story about a guy closing up after a hallucination. The stuff in the parenthesis was typed last, but I only put it in because I could find no better way to add that the narrator is thirsty. I was going to write a twelve poem collection on this prompt, based on monthly news stories of people making the world a worse place, but the poems were scrapped. I do hope to revisit the idea under a different title.

The home in the in the valley meets the damp dirty prison

I had the first two lines stuck in my head for a couple of days. This is the result.

Hunger is ugly, souls are forgotten

This is just a poem comparing oysters and people.

Black is the color, none is the number

October 11, 2020 corrections: *line 4 - "And" -> "As" *line 7 - "." -> "," *line 8 - "Thunder-crash!" -> "thunder-crash!" and line split. *lines 13-16 - "Hole-filled pockets - dirty, wet - hold paper/plastic cards and damaged pictures in a wallet. It is" replaced with current version. *lines 18-21 - "plastic; as the machine processed four fast digits, vehicles dove on past and then they disappeared. At" replaced with current version.

Three Poems for the Great Progressive

This poem came together from the following stanza that I spit out a couple of nights ago: Passover seder with Sam Seder under my cedar tree. Say burr, see his sabered tongue labor long. Hundred lungful's hinder cindered minds. The tinder finds a racist uncle's baseless tongueful like dry rot: the fungal waste is erased from space. Try not It includes one line I wrote a few years ago: "I drink my Tennessee whiskey and Hennessy briskly." The poem is basically about listening to the news all the time because you're sick, feeling restless, going out to the movies and bars, and finally going to sleep. July 20, 2020 update: Completed in honor of Michael Brooks. Also, I wrote the following poem soon after I heard the news, but did not put the time into it that I would have liked. The ground is dry and leaves grow thin. When the new moon is out the fuses trip, the grid's offline, and the world stands too still, I look to the sky as the gold flecks fly; ember is ash. A chill climbs up my spine; stomach can't dip lower. I cannot scout a star within the restless sky. August 11, 2020 update: I saw a contest early morning and wrote the first stanza of the third poem. The second stanza was written after I returned from work. The prompt was the first line from the Beatles' "A Day in the Life".

NOTE: This is the title for “Tell it, think it, speak it, breathe it,” “Reflect from the mountain so all souls can see it,” and “Stand on the ocean until I start sinking.”

#poem #original #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #writerscreed #Going to Fall #What will you do?#Going back out before the rain starts falling #The depths of the deepest black forest #The people are many their hands are all empty #The pellets of poison flooding their waters #The home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison #The executioner’s face always well hidden #Hunger is ugly souls are forgotten #Black is the color none is the number #Tell it think it speak it breathe it #Reflect from the mountain so all souls can see it #Stand on the ocean until I start sinking #Three Poems for the Great Progressive

0 notes

the-headbop-wraith · 4 years

Text

1_14 Flare Ups

The ancient factory had been built in a portion of the town where vision had failed to flourish, while at the time traffic had moved so naturally in other developments and the town had forgotten of former allies. Roads surrounded the large of brick and steel monolith basking in the last carpet of light, the color of the air that had been so vibrant when on the other side of town now took a drab gray tone despite the fervent strokes of the diving sun. On the opposing sides of the factory roads sat a forest still trembling at the edge of industrial expansion, the other third of the territory beyond the old roads was invaded by large plots of land trampled for new venues. These temporarily abandoned construction zones where the roots of delicate architecture of steel beams and cement slabs sat, boarded by chain-link fences made statement for new growth rising from the ashes of destruction as the phoenix rose from its incineration.

A few vehicles, Arthur counted five, passed the van as it made its way down the road. The occasional crinkle of a wrapper and munching of the cookie came from the back, but there was otherwise little sound from the group as they made their second trip to the factory. Lewis had the passenger side window down and was leaning out checking the perimeter around, before Arthur turned off the main road to take the single lane path that ran around up the backside of the factory and to the thick gate that surrounded the plant. Soft whines came from Mystery in the back and coos from Vivi as she hushed the dog.

The sun was falling faster and faster behind the distant hills and quivering tree lining, by the time Arthur brought the van to a halt beside the gate that surrounded the factory. He parked amongst tall trees and brush that tore through the rusted bars of the gate, but Arthur felt there was no danger of the vehicle being discovered or bothered while they were this far out from the main town.

Low ticks twittered from the engine of the van, once the ignition was cut. Without a word Arthur shoved the driver side door open and slipped out to inspect the falling dusk, and rising blues in the brisk cool air. Dust gravel and earth was rich on the breeze, dry leaves rattled over the bare path, and the familiar aroma of cheap old grease hung thick. The factory marinated in the memories and ill influence, of those that had once loathed its callous structure. As he moved along the vans side to the back, he looked up through the branches of the trees and saw the last light of sun gleaming orange and red from the few remaining windows in set beyond the great height of the distant gray wall.

The back doors creaked open and Vivi poked her head out. “Got a light?” she asked, and clicked on a flashlight. She held it out to Arthur and he took it.

“Got my bag?” Arthur caught it when Vivi slung it his way. “I’m… being sabotaged,” he said, as his metal arm fumbled to twist the correct way through the arm strap. Vivi assisted by carefully turning his arm further back, and spun Arthur around to reach through the strap proper. “Thanks.”

From the front of the van Vivi caught the sudden slam of passenger door, followed by the faint crunch of rock underfoot. “Can you carry a bag, Lew?” She slid out one more bag with her, and turned to check the eyes glinting behind the sunglasses.

“Yeah, give it here.” He took the offered bag, and stepped back as the odd patter of legs joined them. Mystery sprang out of the open back and when he hit the ground, gave a hard shake, as dogs do. His collar jingled as the hound worked out the loose hair and wrinkles in his muscles. Lewis saw the red eyes turn and look at him, before Mystery spun away and trotted over to Arthur. “Anything else?” Lewis asked, as he looked into the van.

“This should be everything,” Vivi answered. She moved away as Arthur returned, and slammed the back doors of the van shut. For a moment, Vivi fiddled with her backpack turning it around at her side and pulling, before she pulled out the camera. A bright flash went off and she lowered the camera and scanned through the images, her feet moving as she began leading. “C’mon Mystery. I know you don’t like the shoes, but it’s just for a few hours.”

Lewis smiled as he watched Mystery pad after Vivi. As everything done to him by his companions, Mystery endured it well. But he made them aware just how much he disliked wearing little dog shoes, even if they were the most fashionable black that Vivi could find, they still looked ridiculous. Even for a spirit as free as Mystery was, broken pieces of metal and dust coated glass was not worth weeks of sore, infected paws.

The group spread out as they moved along the rusted gate. Weeds and large trees had jutted through the bars of the fence, which had time ago surrounded the welding plant back in its prime. In the unlikely event of visitors Lewis had parked off the road, several yards away from the main gate entrance that led into the plants open loading yards. Over the years the entrance gate had corroded and fallen partially off its hinges, and no doubt many had entered the factory through this way. There was a small path formed in the gravel among the weeds, and the Mystery Skulls used it just as well to enter. Vivi viewed it as good luck omen, and that many before them had used the path to come and go safely from the factory, so of course they would too. Thought, it just as well meant a minor danger of unwanted company in the factory, but due to rumors of hauntings it was a higher possibility that no one would risk a night time visit.

Corrupted asphalt ended at the chipped and worn cinder blocks, stretching further into the sky than the naked eye could see. The day before the group had spent the first hour or two of the night hunting for a way in that they could all use, the group splint up in two separate direction and Arthur had eventually found an employee entrance near the utility shutters of the factories furthest side. Arthur had made an effort to hide the fact he found the doors, until Lewis began prying. The doors would be just around the corner of the building, and up a short set of cement steps.

Oil and grease permeated the air outside the factory, seeping through stones walls in its gradual escape. It was too late in the year for crickets, but somewhere above a bird chattered out into the night, getting the last song of the evening harmonized before sleep. Aside from their steps echoing with rich resonance off the sun bathed wall at their side, the air had a tranquil vapor that seemed to hover just over the groups shoulders. It wasn’t haunting, more unwelcome but less of an ominous presence as result of the absence of the living.

Arthur stumbled in his step and turned his gaze off from the group and scanned over the open road that picked at their side. He could just make out the amber outline of the vans roof through the trees and brush as the sun was falling and the air darkened around his eyes. Vivi paused to look at him, but Lewis kept walking with Mystery following. No one said a word, and once Arthur was done or felt better, he turned and resumed his march.

“Sometimes,” Arthur murmured, head lowered, “I swear, I sometimes hear things.”

Vivi walked beside him watching his downcast face. “Voices?” she asked. Arthur shook his head, somewhat timidly. “What then?” Arthur raised his shoulder and dropped them, but made no comment. ��Vivi pressed no more questions, but hurried in her steps.

The factory was a tall, single story. Lewis had already pushed the door in and was entering the near black atmosphere that pooled within the oily walls. He could detect the high ceiling and the ancient shutters, where light and wispy clouds formed above the broken spaces in the ceiling. Steel beams crisscrossed in jagged rusted pyramids, and cables or frayed electrical cords hung down in tatters from above. Large drums and tanks dotted the large floor below, a few of te long industrial tables stretched across the concrete expanse. Rusted and broken tools remained on top, and even a few leaves from the outside world had fluttered within. Footsteps scrapped at his back, and Lewis jerked away as Vivi and Arthur crept in.

Vivi clicked on her flashlight and ran the cold blue beam over the gray and crusty tools – Bunsen cords, metal rods, sheets of metal, all crumbling into the cement floor.

“I think I saw the office,” Arthur began. He shielded his eyes when Vivi turned to him, nearly catching his face with her flashlight. “I’m not sure, I didn’t actually go into it.” He snapped on his own flashlight and turned the yellow beam down on Mystery, as the dog led the way. “Unless that ghost made a point to hint about where we’re supposed to go.”

“No,” Vivi said, as she began following Arthur. “Let’s see what you found first.”

It was some distance through the factory, towards the front side. Along the way Arthur would breathe onto his knuckles and rub at his bad shoulder with his free hand. At odd intervals Vivi would lift the camera and take a picture, and occasionally she would share her find with someone, most the time it was Lewis as he would prompt first. Arthur didn’t like to be reminded of the things he couldn’t readily see. Mystery pad alongside the group and sometimes barking at a distant shape huddled beside a wall or large tank, shadows lurking that Vivi missed, or Mystery would pause and turn his attention into a particular direction and perk his ears high.

“That looks like the office,” Arthur had said, when they reached the bottom steps that rose to a higher story. It wasn’t so much a higher story as it was a small apartment that overlooked a large open section of the lower chamber. Arthur estimated this portion of the layout was designed in mind for the more important, high key projects. Ruble had fallen to the floor from the underside, and when they reached the top landing they could identify a large cracked window further back from the railing that would view across the open floor below. What glass remained was cracked and coated in a thick film, and the rusted frame was bent at jagged angles within the mortar wall.

Somehow throughout the years the door had remained locked, or rusted shut. The group ventured into the low ceiling alcove, Vivi trying the door before she stepped aside and shined her light on the doors knob. “Arthur, can you?”

Arthur stepped up and slumped off his backpack, he rubbed a finger over the tarnished plate illuminated in the blue light and hummed to himself. Mystery padded up to sit beside Arthur, as Arthur rummaged through the sack and pulled out a chisel and hammer. “Can you move a little to my left?” the mechanic asked. “Other left. Thanks.” Arthur put the chisel beside the plate in the doorframe and gave a few sharp blows. When the plate came off, Arthur examined the interior of the lock and deadbolt. Lewis watched as Arthur went back to his backpack, and pulled out a sharp pick. Lewis looked away as the harsh blows came, then a click. “Got it.” Arthur shoved the door with his shoulder until it inched open, a peeling squeal came from the rusted hinges as he moved the stubborn metal panel. Vivi moved beside Arthur and helped him wrestled the door open enough that they could slip through.

“Whoa, watch it,” Vivi said, as they stepped into the office. Several steps from the door and beneath the window was a large hole, at its depths was the carnage of ruble they had viewed on the ground below. “Careful where you step,” she further cautioned, as she crossed the spacious room. “Lew, can I have that bag now?”

Lewis had stepped into the room and was looking down into the open wound of the collapsed floor, and onto the broken teeth of ruble staring up at him. “Yeah, here,” he said, and passed the bag over. He turned and stared into the swirling murk and dull rust, before he turned away. “I don’t think I’m gonna be much help,” he admitted, as he watched Vivi explore around the room.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “You can light candles, can’t you?” Vivi held up one of the tall cheap white candles sticks she bought in bulk.

Lewis looked at it, and smirked as he looked past the candle to Vivi. “I… don’t think that’s a good idea either.” He caught Arthur’s movement, as Arthur glanced over unaware his stare was caught. Lewis broke his gaze and snapped to attention, when a small camping lamp was tossed his way from Vivi. The lamp almost popped out/through Lewis hands as he grabbed for it.

“Turn that on, then,” she said, before she stepped over to Arthur with a collection of candles bunched together in one fist. Lewis turned the small lamp on and the bright LED covered the immediate area where Vivi had elected where they would begin their work. Vivi pointed out the broken wall scattered over the floor, and Arthur took out a stiff little brush to sweep away the larger bits of dust and rocks. As they submerged themselves in the routine, Lewis saw it fit to set the lamp down on the only available surface, the floor, and gave the room a fleeting scan.

The office was spacious despite its deterioration, enough that the group was not bumping into each other as they worked around. A side wall of the office had fallen across the room, large chunks of rusted metal and concrete made for an interesting stand for a section of the little shrine Vivi had constructed. She had two notebooks out on the floor and alternated between flipping through the separate pages, and marked shapes onto the flat sides of cement that were available as well as on the floor itself with a piece of graphite. Arthur had the lighter and was pressing wax down and fixing candles where Vivi directed. The little electric lamp placed near their workspace covered the area with soft white light, shimmering occasionally as Mystery paced the floor back and forth eagerly watching the work of his companions. At some point Mystery seated himself down and continued to supervise, as Vivi sets out a thin silver dish and places a bundle of sage on that between two burning candles.

Lewis moves away and again finds himself looking down through rebar and wood of the broken floor. It ebbed something in him that he didn’t want to feel, but he couldn’t avert his gaze. The rugged folded edges helped, made it seem less intimidating. He focused on the dark that was reaching, clawing to his limbs and chest. Until there was movement. Another ghost below, looking up at him. Lewis watched the other, and the other spirit stares back up appearing much like a living person, but for those eyes. Lewis was about to ask a question, when the ghost dissolved from sight, body first followed by the polished ribs.

“Have you started yet?” Lewis inquired. He turns to Vivi as she shakes her head. “Right. We might be gathering an audience.” But there was no indication where the other spirit had gone, or why it appeared. He doubted that was Fritz, though he had no reason to have an opinion yet. Lewis backed away from the broken floor, the weightless and dislocation that mingled in his core becoming unbearable. He looked to Vivi and Arthur as they mingled about in perfect unison and felt a mild pang, a whisper of disassociation twisting about their presence. As if he had become a spectator watching some scene unfold. The notion made him uneasy and Lewis felt the urge to say something, even a stupid comment about how nice Vivi’s hair looked with the shadows hovering over her, but he couldn’t. The lamp beside Lewis dimmed, and he moved across the room away from it as Vivi and Arthur glanced up.

“We’re ready to start,” Vivi announced. “Are you okay, Lew?”

He nods, as he spun around to look at the lamp and distract himself from the symbols shimmering under the light. His voice popped and sputtered before he managed a word. “Yes. Just, the other spook.” He intertwined his fingers and set his hands together in front of him.

Vivi nodded and turned back to her work. “Just say anything,” she said as invitation. “Don’t leave me in the dark. Got it?” Lewis tilts his head towards her and nodded. Satisfied by this, Vivi moved to position herself behind the small circles drawn on the floor in front of the cracked slabs of concrete, where the rust and dust had been brushed away for more figures etched with graphite. Vivi moved her backpack off her shoulders and opened it up. Arthur moved to just behind one side of her shoulder, and Mystery placed himself a little behind and between Arthur and Vivi. “Could you come join us, then?” From her backpack Vivi pulled out another candle from her seemingly endless inventory, and a bundle of cloth. Lewis watches as Vivi unwraps the cigarette tin from the cloth as he moves to stand near the group. Vivi shoves the provision backpack aside, out of the way and Arthur leans over to hand her the lighter.

“Does the air feel a lot colder?” he asked. Arthur glanced around, and coils down into his vest. “I mean it. It feels a lot colder than that other night we were here.” He blows into his hands again and rubs at his shoulder.

“You really need to consider just wearing your sleeves down,” Vivi remarks. She shuffles the cloth and candle into one hand, and with a piece of graphite in her other hand, Vivi marks a rune on the floor and sets the cigarette tin on the symbol. “It’s not good for you to get sick all the time.” She sets the cloth aside, then takes the candle and lights the wick.

“We’re calling, Fritz Owen,” she begins, initiating the séance. Vivi drops melting wax from the candle onto the cement beside the sage on the dish and sets the candle down on the edge of the circle between the cigarette tin and the unlit sage. “Fritz Owen. We would like to speak to you if possible. We insist you make your presence known.” She turns the backpack over in order to reach a side pocket and slips the lighter inside, and paused briefly when a distant clatter occurs. Slowly, Vivi pulls the camera from the bag and over onto her lap where she sits. She glimpses over her shoulder up to Lewis, and then resumed, “We have an item you once owned in life. Are you not compelled by our call?” Vivi focuses on the tranquil burn of the candlelight glistening off the marred side of the tin.

Arthur shifts where he’s seated on his knees. He looks over as Mystery sets his paw on his thigh, and Arthur reaches over to the dog’s neck and gives him a scratch. There is no draft in the musty office, the candle flames burn steady in the absence of disturbance and thought. But the air… shifts, or changes. He can feel that, the sense of it is uncanny as it bore into his spine. Arthur’s certain the shadows at the edges of the light have thickened, as if the grease that clung to the air was now swelling into something… irritated. He feels a tickle in his spin and trembles. “God, it is cold.” Vivi hushes him.

“Would you like to borrow my sweater?” she asks. Arthur shakes his head. Lewis is looking at him again.

“Focus, Vi,” Lewis says, instead.

“Right, right, I got this.” Vivi takes a deep breath, and resumes, “We know about you, Fritz Owen. You worked in the welding factory sometime during in the 1920s. You had a wife and a child,” she says, and paused. There was another sound, somewhere, a far off clatter echoed. She couldn’t discern if it was the sound of the factory decaying, or some animal scurrying around in the rafters overhead. She heard Arthur shudder, but ignored him. “Your wife, or someone close to you, gave you an item of sentimental value. We now have that possession. Will you not show yourself?” All is quiet, even the hiss of the candles compliant to the flat air have a no perceivable trill.

Arthur stiffens. A voice, barely audible but he could make out the echo on the words. No one, not even Mystery gazing off into the dark shattered wall of the connecting room, reacts to the utterance. “You guys,” he murmurs. “Guys. Vivi. Did you hear that? Please tell me you heard that?”

The answer is unanimous between Vivi and Lewis. “No,” “Nada.” And Vivi goes on to ask, with interest, “What’d you hear?”

Arthur shakes his head, and takes his hand from Mystery’s shoulders to rub at his own neck. “1924,” he said. “Something about 1924, I think. That’s all I heard.” Arthur brings both arms up to rub at his shoulders, and the soreness in his remaining left arm.

Lewis didn’t like this. He scanned the room over but could detect nothing, and saw nothing evident in the shadows. All he felt was the pull, and the urge to get away from the writing on the floor. It was suggestions and nothing more he reminds himself, but it made him uncomfortable. It could as easily be his sense of nerves and reflections as anything, but he wouldn’t attribute it to ‘phantom’ paranoia. Or was it because there was another seeking? Was Fritz hiding because of him?

“What would that mean?” Arthur whimpered. “1924?”

Vivi ponders over the date. “Well, that was during the Roaring twenties. When Fritz would have lived and would be working,” she said, pondering. “It was considered one of the best times to be an American. A lot of cultural mingling, jobs, the economy was booming.” Vivi’s voice became quiet. “Up until the Crash of Wall Street. But that has nothing to do with Fritz.” She looked over at Arthur briefly, then looks back to the cigarette tin as if to speak with it directly. “Fritz Owen. Did you die in 1924?”

Even before Vivi had finished her question, Arthur was fidgeting and looking around. “You heard it that time, right?” he asks, pulling his arms tighter around his sides. “I’m not going crazy?”

“You’re not going crazy,” Lewis says, tilting towards Arthur. “The spirit just chose you for some reason to transition answers.”

Arthur gave a low whine in his throat. “WHY? I am the worst person!”

Lewis looks away, toward the dark section of the open adjacent office Mystery had remained focused on. “I won’t disagree,” he mutters.

Arthur glares at Lewis, and sinks down into his vest collar a little. “That was an unnecessary comment.” Lewis shrugs showing his palms, and folds his hands behind his back.

“Art, focus,” Vivi said. She tugs on Arthur’s shoulder to get his attention. “What’d the spirit say?”

Arthur blinks at her. “No. Just… ‘no.’ I guess he didn’t die in 1924?” Arthur winces when Mystery leans into his side, pressing into his bad shoulder. “Hey bud.”

“Okay,” Vivi says, and rubs her hands together. She raises her hands near one of the candles and resumes. “Fritz Owen. When did you die? Do you remember how?” Vivi begins massaging her palms together, until Lewis crouches beside her and takes her hands in his. “Anything, Arthur?”

Arthur shakes his head as he glances around. “No voice,” he says. “No… sound.” Arthur looks away from Vivi and Lewis. “What!”

Lewis glances up in the direction Arthur is staring, and sees a gray shadow in the furthest side of the room gazing back. Arthur flops to his side and scoots away from the candles glow and the marks on the floor, as the dark shape drifts further into the room. The shade stops to stare at the four, its bright eyes going over each in turn. It is vaguely shapeless and more like a dirty sheet, a soft white glow comes from its chest. It moves closer to the cluster, much to Arthur’s dismay, and sways back then lowers to the floor where it seems to sink down into the cement. Its bright eyes continue to stare around at them, as the candle light wavers across its pale contrast against the dark gloom lingering around the electric lamp.

“That’s,” Vivi begins, edging out of Lewis hands. “That isn’t Fritz, is it?” She cocked an eyebrow at the small shroud as it bobbed up out of the floor.

Lewis glares at the little spirit as it glides up and seems to examine the display of melting candles set out on the cement and broken slabs littered around them. “I don’t… no, it isn’t,” he says. The spirits glimmering chest pulses in time with the locket hidden under his sweater, but otherwise the nondescript takes no interest in his presence at all. “I think he’s just curious.” He shuffles on his knees, but stops himself from rising when he notes the cigarette tin and markings on the floor. “Or maybe just scoping us out. He might be a friend to Fritz.”

When Vivi reaches out to the gray shade, the spirit drifts towards her. The candles flutter under the spirit as glides backwards from her hands. With a flutter of its shadowy edges and a sputter from the lamp, the ghost rises up and fades into the ceiling above. Arthur stares up until the shadow is gone, then heaves a thick breath.

“Fritz Owen,” Vivi goes on, with a small sigh. “Do you plan to appear before us? Will you talk to all of us, and not just our friend? That is very rude.”

Mystery perks his ears and moves away from Arthur’s curled up body. Mystery stares past Vivi to the window and gives a yap. There’s a sound of snapping, followed by a dull clatter as a a small section of the window cracks out of the marred and twisted frame. Lewis stands up but doesn’t move from his spot, in response to his movement the candles sway and dance causing the thick shapes mingling over the floor and walls to quiver under his presence. He sees nothing and no further activity was made apparent.

“Are you with us now, Fritz Owen?” Vivi questions. She looks up to Lewis when he looks back at her, and Vivi shakes her head. Lewis turns away, and Vivi continues, “We are calling you, Fritz Owen. You are compelled to obey.”

The dull air holds its countenance, but there is something new. A change in the thickness of the oppressive atmosphere, as if the factory had come alive for a brief and silent moment to expel a long lost sigh of decay. What glass that had fallen through the collapsed floor crinkles, tinkling down over rebar and wood.

Mystery gives another bark, right as Arthur shrieks. In the furthest corner of the room, near where the nondescript shade had manifested, now stood a dark figure cloaked by the shadows repelled by the light. The spirits eyes glint white deep in its dark eye sockets, gray hair is stylized in an undercut and the longer top upon the scalp is combined back. A portion of the suit around the shoulders has faded revealing bleached bones, and a white heart pulses dimly over the dark tatters draped over the ribs. The exposed remains of bone are coated in a black cloak of ravels that seem to seep from the shadows among the figure. What is most terrible about this apparition is the ugly frayed rope around the lingering collar of the suit. The remains of a noose.

Arthur is muttering, sinking down behind Vivi as she stares at the spirit in the corner.

“Why are you here, Fritz Owen?” Vivi asks, unblinking. “Why do you remain?”

There is no sound, or none that can be heard. The spirit soaks back into the shadows as if it had never been. In the distance a crash comes, audibly relatable to a large structure that was shoved over or thrown aside.

Arthur calms down somewhat when he sees the shadow absent, and pokes his head up from where he was bent down. “He says, he is not happy that we are here,” Arthur whispers, to Vivi. “He wants us to leave.”

“Well,” Vivi huffs, “We’re not leaving until you make yourself more hospitable. We had to buy KitKat’s and coffee beans, and we didn’t get to try any of them.” She glanced around, but saw no indication of the spirit. “After this though, we’re gonna try it. Together. We were told it’s good, by your great-great-great grandson.”

“I think it’s just great-great grandson,” Arthur says. He paused and frowned. “Fuck. I can taste chocolate and coffee!” He licks his lips. He couldn’t deny the rich flavor on his tongue, it was clearly there and on his breath. And…. “It’s… it’s kind of good, actually.” Arthur smacks his lips.

Viv sniffs at the air, and looks over at Lewis standing near them. “I can smell coffee?” she said. “Like, from a bag. Fresh beans. It’s like I’m standing in a Starbucks.” She beams at him. “It’s so weird, one minute this place smells like grease and yuck, and now I’m craving coffee.” She sniffs a little more and squeals, barely able to hold still. “Incredible.”

Lewis makes no comment, but smiles. This was a refreshing change.

“That’s very impressive, Fritz Owen,” Vivi continues. She adjusts her glasses on her nose, and shifts her legs on the grit digging uncomfortably into her knees. “We know you killed yourself in this office, Fritz Owen. And we know what happened to cause you to do what you did.”

Mystery looks back at Arthur as he quivers and lowers down more, hiding his face beside his shoulder. “‘You know nothing,’” murmurs Arthur.

Lewis looks over at the trembling figure, a warning sparked in him. He could feel Arthur, pick out the parts that were him and found nothing too distressing or mangled. It was just Arthur being frazzled and spiked, but he didn’t like that part. The tone his voice had taken. “Try us,” Lewis hissed. He looked away from Arthur and scanned the office over. “Tell us. But leave him alone. You can talk to us, we’ll listen.” The dark in the room seemed to pull back and lighten, but he wasn’t certain if the others had caught it.

“He… doesn’t want to,” Arthur says. He leans up as Mystery pushes his nose under his chin. “He doesn’t trust us. I think it takes too much out of him.” Mystery crawls over Arthur’s lap and looks into the far side of the room, where the two spirits had appeared from.

Something was different, something that Lewis had missed. A twinge of pain crept into Arthur, but faded out. “I get it,” Lewis said, watching Arthur as he slumped down beside Vivi. “He’s weak. He can’t do much but lurk and talk.” Something faded behind Arthur, a face and dark eyes glowering. Lewis missed the glance Vivi shot his way. There was another resonance somewhere, a clang of hollow metal. “Then you throw a tantrum. You can’t even do it with us watching.” Arthur makes a sound, a low groan as he huddles down.

Vivi looks away from Arthur and stares across the room. She raises the camera up and flashes a picture. She stands up beside Lewis as she activates the image viewer, and shows the screen to him. Something inside Lewis feels cold, as if his soul was squirming inside his ribs. From the broken ceiling beside the window dangles a noose, and a shadow hung from it.

“Cool,” Vivi murmurs. Lewis says nothing. The collective group winces when a chair crashes through the room from the adjacent office, and splinters against the floor close to where they stand. On the other side of the room poised beneath the memory of the noose, the ghost hovers within the vacant wound in the floor.

“I want you to leave now,” it hisses.

It takes a beat for the collected to recover, and adjust to the reappearance of the spirit. Arthur mumbles something under his breath, as Lewis shrugs off the rash incident. “So, he speaks without a puppet,” he goads, crossing his arms over his chest. Lewis smirks when Fritz glowers up at him.

“Talk to us for a bit,” Vivi offers, “And we’ll leave you alone. That’s all we want.” She lowers the camera in her hands when the spirit turns his attention to her. The spirit says nothing, just watches with its bright white eyes. “Why are you here?” she prompts, when nothing is first uttered.

The spirit raises his shape above the broken floor and leans to one side. “Because you won’t stop calling me,” it said. His focus falls to the marks on the floor, or perhaps the cigarette tin set there.

“You know what I mean, Fritz Owen,” Vivi retorts.

“And stop using my full name,” Fritz says, gaze never leaving the floor near Vivi’s feet.

She replies, “Only if you don’t leave. Just answer our questions.” Fritz fades somewhat as she takes another picture, and Vivi asks him to answer. “Are you tethered?” she continues. “Is there something we can help you resolve?”

“There must be a reason,” Lewis picks up, and gestures to Frtiz. “Don’t you find it oppressive, waiting around this place? Even if you didn’t die here? But you did…. This can’t be by your choice.”

Fritz makes a sound, a cracked chortle. “I do like it here.” He raises himself to set his heels onto the edge of the wrecked floor and perched there, with his ragged arms folded behind his back. He looks from Lewis to Vivi, Fritz’s eyes dim in their sockets. “That’s ALL you need to know.”

Arthur looks at Mystery when Mystery head bumps his bad shoulder gently. The dog looks over his ambers glasses into Arthur’s eyes, and Arthur blinks as he turns to peer at the spook carefully.

“This is where I belong,” Frtiz goes on. “Call me sentimental, but I don’t want to leave for… whatever. It’s not that I’m afraid or anything, you understand.” He drops his attention back to the tarnished metal case surrounded by the markings and candles.

“You’re lying,” Arthur mumbles. Fritz peers beyond Vivi to Arthur. “Viv, he’s lying. He’s hiding something.” Arthur sits up more as Mystery moves to stand in front of him.

Vivi looks back to the spirit, and asks, “You wanna try again?” Without response Fritz dims out of sight. Vivi sighs with exasperation. “Fritz Owen,” she calls, partly to the floor, “we are not done here. I’m calling you back, Fritz—” She’s shoved and falls backwards onto Arthur. Mystery yelps when she tumbles over him, and he scrambles away barking at the shadows crawling around them when one of the candles tips over and rolls on the floor.

“Vi!” Lewis spins and ducks down to grab her off Arthur. Mystery is still snarling at lingering shrouds, and spitting at the odd shapes twisting on the broken ceiling above them. “That was uncalled for,” he hissed, voice low and seething. When he moves to pull Vivi up onto her feet, Fritz is standing there glaring down on the huddled group. The noose hangs down the spirits bleached bone knit front, and the candlelight on the floor causes his shadow to stretch around them, outward from the black cloak slung around his glinting collar and shoulder blades.

“This is your last warning!” The spirit booms, eyes blazing. “Leave or I’ll give you a reason to run. No more questions. No negotiations. You’ll cling to that hope your lot makes it beyond these walls without me tied to your heels.”

Flames gush from Lewis collar when he twists away from Vivi on the floor, and he lunges up at the looming dark figure. Magenta fire rolls from Lewis’ cuffs as he swipes out at Fritz, the sudden movement jostles the sunglasses off Lewis’ face and the glasses clatter to the floor at his feet as he rears up over the other spirit, eyes blazing from the pits of their black sockets. Fritz recoils from the violent motion and smoothly perches a distance back from Lewis staring, a lack of comprehension evident in the bleached visage.

“You’ve done something,” Lewis says, standing between his group and the other entity. Magenta embers crackle as they hover defensively beside his sizzling shoulders, blistering the poor edges of his blackened sweater. “There’s a reason you’re stalling. If you tell us, then maybe – and that’s a strained maaayybe – we’ll let you be. But my strongest advice would be that you Do. NOT. Lie.” Fritz says nothing, just stares at Lewis with an expression akin to unease. After a terse pause the skull and bones fade from the room and Fritz’s presence is gone. “Damn it.”

“You okay?” Vivi asks. She touches the pale patch of skin on Arthur’s head. He brushes her hand off.

“Yes, still in one piece,” Arthur says, as he raises his prosthetic. “Which is good.” He takes Mystery by the collar as the mutt tries to pad by again, nervous and snuffling at the dust kicked up. “Settle down, bud. We’re okay.” Mystery wags his tail and leans up to lick Arthur’s face.

Vivi stands beside Lewis, still poised and tense facing the vacant air the other ghost had occupied. She sets a wary hand on Lewis’ shoulder, gently. “Hey? He didn’t know you were a ghost?” she poses, and prods at the scorch threads around Lewis’ neck and stares.

It took a while for Lewis to let his agitation diminish, and he turns to Vivi. “Apparently,” he said, looking to the tatters of the sweater on his arm and the remains of his smoldered glove. Vivi noticed his suite, now exposed through the open splotches in the sweater.

“How does that work?” she asked, looking up at his face. In their recent travels, Lewis had neglected to remove any of his physical articles since visiting the Owen’s. He hadn’t bothered or either forgot, the matter on its own was unimportant so long as Lewis could look human, or appear Alive, among other people. Little by little it began to dawn on Vivi that she too had forgotten of Lewis unique state for a short while, if only briefly, though her focus had been diverted onto the séance. The realization spread a tinge of guilty through her.

“I must be very convincing,” Lewis said, with a smirk. “And you were complaining I needed to recover faster. I wasn’t even startled.”

“Yeah,” Vivi agreed, lost in her own thoughts. “Fritz couldn’t see you coming.” Recalling their current subject, she turned to Arthur and knelt beside him. “Art, what was that?” she asked, setting a hand on his bad shoulder. “Did someone talk to you?”

Arthur seemed to melt under her hand and lowered his head. He set his flesh hand on Mystery’s shoulder and gently rocked the dog crouched beside him. “The accidents,” he said, voice low. “I was… I nearly forgot. Remember? The one major incident that started it. The terrible accidents.”

Vivi looked away, to the cigarette case and the candle slowly going out beside it. “Accidents,” Vivi repeats, as her mind gathers back the obscure details they had collected. “1924. Faulty equipment following the… oh god.” She stood up and turned to Lewis, holding her hands up, one hand still held the camera. “The accidents,” she began. “The worst, the freak accidents only happened after Fritz’s suicide.”

Lewis looks away, to the ugly ruin of a hole and the glimmering rebar and glass within. “We don’t know that for sure,” he says. “The equipment was old. Even Fritz suffered injury from it.”

“He wouldn’t know any better,” Vivi said. She ducks around trying to find Lewis eyes where they had diverted onto the floor. “His family said he was… broken, mentally shot. What does the loss of sight and hearing do to a person? He killed himself in this room. He can’t find peace on his own.” Lewis winced at her words. “He has to be expelled from here. He can’t stay.” Vivi takes his chin and pulls his face to meet her eyes. “It’s not good for him, you know that.”

“Yeah,” Lewis answers. Though, he turns away as Vivi slips to the floor beside Arthur and drags her bag close, she begins rummaging through bottles, some rolls of paper, and yet more candles. He knows she’s taking stock, deciding what would be best implemented for expelling a spirit through exorcism. Lewis isn’t certain what he feels, but he knows Vivi is right. A wandering specter lost and confused was one matter, but a suicide was a whole other miasma of potential corruption and disaster. But—

A low grinding sound came from overhead. Mystery goes ballistic, barking and jerking at Arthur’s leg dragging him across the floor, despite the protests of Arthur trying to shield himself with his satchel. Lewis jerks back grabbing Vivi and Arthur, while Mystery remains tangled with Arthur’s pants leg. A strangled yelp wrenches from Arthur’s lungs, as Lewis slings the group aside. A section of the roof cracks and drops, pieces of cinderblock slam down over the chunks of wall across the floor and the cigarette tin, as with the Vivi’s personal bag that had been left in the panic.

Lewis turns back once he’s assured the others are wary of their surroundings, in the event of another attempt on their life. “At least we didn’t promise to return the tin,” Lewis mutters.

Vivi’s expression of horror deflates as the dust settles, and the crackles of mortar fades. “He’s definitely getting exorcised now.” She creeps away from Lewis, the only light now available being the lamp still seated on the floor. She stares at the pile of bricks as Lewis approaches, with Arthur and Mystery close behind him. “This is going to be difficult without the anchor.” She pulls the provision bag over her shoulder and ponders. The lamp on the floor sputters, then goes out. “Shit.” Mystery snorts when he sneezes in the dark, scaring Arthur a bit.

Arthur jerks his flashlight from his back pocket of his pants and clicks on the light. He turns the yellow beam from Mystery, over to the wreckage and waves away a bit of the lingering silt. “I say we call it a night,” he offers, and coughs. Arthur slinks back when Lewis glares at him, eyes burning in the dark outline he stood within. “Or not? Vi? Back me up here.”

“The tin wasn’t an anchor,” Lewis said. He folds his arms behind his back, and felt the odd unevenness of his covered arm and the tatters of the sweater on the other. “It was a bind. It’s wrecked now, we can’t use it.” Lewis paused, as Vivi turns to him. She had her flashlight on and was shining the soothing blue light just under his collar. “We’ll need something else.” He knew what she was looking at now.

“Lew. Go on,” Vivi encourages. She didn’t know how hard this was for him.

“He’ll carry something HE cherished in life. It’s,” Lewis hesitates, and glanced over the room when another sound, a tinkling echoed in the other open space of the office. “It’s not real, not in a physical sense. But to him it will be.”

Vivi nods. “Okay,” she says. “Then we should go and find Fritz, or whatever this thing is he cherished.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Arthur begins.

“I agree for once,” Lewis states. “Beside, you don’t even—” Lewis’ voice rattles off, when Vivi pressed a finger to his lips.

“It’s the heart, right?” Vivi accuses. She drops the flashlight from his collar, and takes her hand from his face. “All the ghosts we’ve seen – every single one – even the deadbeats have one. Don’t give me that look, Lew. You were very protective of your heart when we first encountered you in your mansion.”

Lewis drew back from Vivi and raised a hand to his chest. “We’ll,” he mumbled, and his voice had the odd crackle to it. “I can’t say yes or no. But don’t take it lightly, Fritz will be more than willing to harm to keep you away from it.”

“I know,” Arthur says. And Lewis looks at him and can see Arthur’s eyes quite clearly, and Lewis detects something pacifying in Arthur’s aura. “That part you don’t remember.” The statement is missed by Lewis, but he nods slowly as it comes back. Arthur remembers and it’s a sensation Lewis tries to remove himself from.

“That’s good enough,” Vivi said, as she looked between Lewis and Arthur. “Then let’s go.” Lewis reaches over and takes her arm. She wrenches her arm back out of his grip. “No Lew!”

“You’re not going to look for him, I am!” Lewis’s voice echoed, the resonance clipping over the walls in the office. Vivi opened her mouth to protest, but Lewis raised himself more and cut off her voice. “This guy wrecks walls, and tampers with machinery,” Lewis goes on with harsh chatters, his eyes brightening within the dark pits of his eye sockets. “Remember those gremlins? This’ll be ten times worse.”

Arthur cringes beside Mystery and pulls the dog close to him. “Let’s just let them duke it out, huh?” Mystery opens his mouth to pant, his breath misting in front of his face. A few times Lewis tried to turn Vivi around or grab Vivi, and she would shove Lewis back and Arthur would wince. As this went on, Arthur sighed and pressed his face into the dog’s fur. He says, “Sometimes I think you’re the only one that understands me.” Mystery yaps.

Lewis tries to put his hands on Vivi’s shoulders. “I don’t—” Vivi swats his hands away, and he retreats that time.

“Lew!” Vivi snaps, and sets her free hand over the locket hidden under the sweater. “He’s sacred of you. He’s weak and scared of us all. He can’t harm us unless we let him, and we won’t. Right Arthur?”

Arthur perks up from cuddling Mysery and nods. “Yes? Wait, no!” He tries to stand, and slips back to his knees beside Mystery. “He’s dangerous Viv!”

“One collapsed ceiling!” she sneered. “Whoop De Doo! I’ve seen worse! WE’VE dealt with worse!” Arthur goes quiet and doesn’t comment. Vivi turns back to Lewis. “I am not going to let you go out there and do this on your own! I won’t. I watched you do that once, and if I can help it I will not sit by and watch you do that again! Do you understand what I’m saying?” Lewis lowered his hands from Vivi as she heaved a few gasps and collected herself. “Now listen here,” she resumed, voice calmer, “Fritz will play keep away, because he doesn’t belong here and he knows it! He’s broken. We’ll find that artifact, and perform the exorcism in this room.”

Lewis looks away. Maybe. Maybe she is right. Maybe. He couldn’t say no to her face now. The sensation crept back into him, dislocation and weightless in an essence that troubled his tangible shape. Lewis crackles, and speaks, “You’re right. But, give me a second.” He leaves Vivi and returns to the ruble of the roof that had fallen over the floor and the marks Vivi had carefully laid down. The floor shifts not from his weight, but from the blocks of bricks and wood he shoves away until he uncovers a section of the floor. “Arthur,” Lewis said, and beckons with a finger. “I need your hands for a moment.”

Arthur glances from Vivi to Mystery. He stands and shuffles over to Lewis. “It’s nothing dangerous, right?” Arthur scuttles back when the floor creaks under his weight, he gives Lewis feet a look where Lewis is poised, weightless, beside the wreckage.

“I’m right here,” Lewis said, and beckons with his hand. “Just get the tin out.” He hovers back as Arthur, still jittery, peers into the opening in the cement chunks. Arthur uses his flesh arm to reach through the pinned stones and without much trouble he wrenched free the shattered halves of the warped tin. “It’s broken? Good. Hold up the pieces separately and close your eyes.”

Arthur gives Lewis a distrustful scowl. “What? Why?”

Lewis’ eyes brighten with irritation. “Arthur,” his voice comes wispy, almost in a cheerful melody. “Do it. You owe me.”

“Why?” Arthur says, voice breaking.

“Doritos,” Lewis supplied. He waits as Arthur appears to want another go with the argument, but Arthur relents. Arthur sticks the flashlight into his back pocket, and takes a piece of the tin in either hand. “You two might want to avert your eyes too.” Lewis glimpses Vivi and her incredulous expression, and Lewis is compelled to cool her unease. “I’m not going to hurt him.” Lewis touches the collar of his suit, compelling the heart to twirl free from his chest and hover at his fingertips. “But I don’t think you want to wind up like Fritz.” When Vivi and Mystery had shut their eyes, Lewis guides the locket between the two pieces of the cigarette tin.

As the locket hovers between the warped pieces of metal, Lewis raised a hand and faced a palm over the twin tin pieces. His eye sockets flare bright magenta and for a brief moment his skull is visible through the skin of his façade, bright flames flicker up from his suit collar. The remaining scraps of the gloves burn away when pink fire engulfs his hands, projecting a coal red symbol onto the surface of the tin.

Arthur gives a high pitched yelp when he accidentally opens his eyes, and catches sight of the eerie fire and skull face of Lewis. “Geez! Fuck.” He dropped the tins as he stumbled backwards into the furthest wall. “Thank you for the warning!”

“You’re welcome,” Lewis rattles. He looks down on the tins as the fire at his hands dies out, and the surface of the bent metal cools. Lewis glances at Vivi as she approached with Mystery beside her. “We’ve dealt with worse,” he said, as he admires the locket drifting at his fingertips.

“Yeah,” Vivi said. She reaches out to the locket, until Lewis catches it by its base and turns to her. He doesn’t move as Vivi reaches over and sets her hand upon the softly pulsing heart gleaming in the gloom. The bluish tint fades to golden under her touch. “You’re not gonna lose us.”

“Not gonna lose you,” Lewis hums. When Vivi lowers her hand, Lewis returns the locket to the front of his suit hidden behind the sweater. He took a piece of the crumpled tin and gave it to Vivi, then took the other broken half. Arthur was still seated against the wall, rubbing at his flesh hand. “Are you hurt?”

Arthur shook his head and stood up, ignoring Lewis outstretched hand. “I’m fine,” he said. “Just surprised, that’s all.” He looked up at Lewis, before he was handed the remaining half of the tin. “Is this some sort of protection?” Arthur ventures, as he examined the mark in the tin.

“I don’t know,” Lewis admits. He glides after Vivi, who was already headed to the broken door.

“Then why all the flash and dazzle?” Arthur asked. He hurried to catch up with them. Mystery followed, and kept close to his heels.

“Fritz will not like it,” Lewis says. He glides out of the door to stand with Vivi, and waits as Arthur and Mystery catch up. “I used that symbol to… repel unwanted entities. We’ll find out what happens.”

Arthur paused to look at the tin again, and was reminded of the crypt and the coffin. It did make sense, but maybe not to Lewis as much as Arthur had decided it should. “Wait,” Arthur groaned, “are we going to splint up? Guys, that’s a terrible idea!”

“It won’t be that bad,” Vivi insists. She shines her light on Arthur’s chest when he begins to shake. “You and Mystery. Watch each other’s backs, and above all don’t get separated. You have a walkie-talkie, so don’t shut it off like you always do.” Lewis smirked. Arthur’s Achilles’ heel – he could run, he could evade, he could pick locks like nothing else in a pinch – but Arthur always and never failed to forget to turn on his walkie-talkie. “Mystery, you’ll protect Arthur.” Mystery barks, and trots to stand behind Arthur and pressed his side into the back of his companions trembling legs. “Just don’t be afraid,” she says. “If you need to, make some runes and a circle of salt. You got this Artie.”

“I don’t,” Arthur whines. Mystery barked and pranced around to Arthur’s front and hopped up to plant his front paws, in shoes, on Arthur’s thighs. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Mystery.” Mystery barked, insisting he did know. But Arthur would rather be with Mystery than left alone with Lewis.

“You’ll be fine,” Lewis said. “Don’t draw attention to yourself. You’re good at that.” Arthur mutters some words under his breath, but Lewis didn’t care for it. “Remember the tin, but be careful. There’s a chance you just might upset him with it.”

Lewis didn’t plan to let it come to that, and in a way, he wished Vivi was going along with Arthur. When he found Fritz, and there was no doubt in Lewis’ intangible sense that he would, he didn’t plan to let the hostile spirit off before he managed to give Fritz a firm piece of the negative emotions brewing in his heated loathing. For that little stunt in the office, Lewis vowed to find Fritz by any means available. Even if it meant violating none corporeal laws, and endangering his own contentious state.

#mystery skulls #mystery skulls animated #mystery skulls fanfic #fanfiction #msa fanfiction #msa lewis #msa arthur #msa mystery #msa vivi #mystery skills fanfiction #msa fanfic

0 notes

tomeandflickcorner · 7 years

Text

OUAT Episode Analysis- Wake Up Call

Yay. A Regina Centric. Don’t get me wrong, because so far this season, Regina hasn’t really done anything that annoyed me, barring the moment last episode when she automatically assumed Henry must have been having potentially romantic thoughts about Ivy just because he shared a drink with her. But it still frustrates me when they try to make us forget about how Regina wasn’t always a good person.

So, we pick up where we left off last episode, with Roni/Regina and Henry puzzling over the photograph of them in Storybrooke. Of course, because the denial game is strong with them, they just dismiss it as Victoria’s attempt to mess with them or something. However, Lucy, upon hearing about the picture from Ivy/Drizella, is super excited over this tangible bit of proof. But when she realizes that her father and adoptive grandmother are still skeptical, she decides to try and locate the Storybook, remembering how touching the book helped restore Emma’s memories at the end of S1, as well as the amnesiac Henry’s memories during the Wizard of Oz arc. While her plan is a good one, she is forgetting one crucial element. Simply touching the book isn’t enough. You have to be open to believing, too. But in the end, it doesn’t really matter, as she’s unable to locate the Storybook in her mother’s closet.

However, Roni/Regina ends up following Lucy to make sure she doesn’t get into any real trouble. And let’s face it, it’s not far-fetched to think she might do something reckless, considering she’s Henry’s kid. Roni also speculates it might be better to just humor her for now, until she’s ready to accept that there isn’t really a curse. (Shame she didn’t take this approach with Young Henry in S1. Oh yeah, it was because she knew he was right and didn’t want anyone knowing that.) But I guess this leads to Roni admitting that she’d like it if Lucy was right, because her cursed memories have led her to believe that she almost adopted a little boy once, but the agency ultimately decided she wasn’t a good fit. And she would like to believe that she actually had been able to be someone’s mother. Roni also later recruits Weaver to find out if there was documented evidence of a Regina Mills adopting a baby boy from Boston, like Lucy claimed. At first, I wasn’t expecting Weaver to actually do what she asked, considering it was clear that he’s woken up and remembered who he is. But to my surprise, he actually came through and produced the paperwork that Regina once filled out. I guess Rumpelstiltskin is clearly back to his old tactic of seeking deals and favors, so he’s probably going to get Regina to do something for him on a later date.

Upon getting the copy of the adoption papers, Roni discovers that the handwriting of Regina Mills is identical to her own. But before she can have the time to come to terms with the incontestable proof that Lucy might be right, Ivy/Drizella swings by and gives Roni/Regina a drink that was spiked with some kind of potion she and Mystery Witch concocted using the dirt and flowers from Lucy’s Community Garden. This potion ends up waking Regina up. As such, she remembers something very important.

In the Parallel Enchanted Forest flashback, we see Regina is having a hard time fully accepting the fact that Henry has grown up. The scene in question starts with Henry and Parallel Cinder bonding while doing repairs on Henry’s motorcycle. (By the way, I did grin a bit when we see Henry still has the Tron lunchbox that he had back in S1 and is now using it as a toolbox. That was a rather cute callback.) But when some ruffians suddenly appear and try to start trouble, Henry and Parallel Cinder are able to fight them off on their own. Which also was a really cool moment, since Henry and Parallel Cinder were able to turn Henry’s tools into improvised weapons. It really reminded me of Snow and Charming, and how they were able to do the same in their fight with the heart-controlled Count of Monte Cristo.

However, while Regina makes an effort to act like she’s taking it well, it later becomes clear that she’s feeling that Henry really doesn’t need her anymore. So when she runs into Drizella in what I gather is supposed to be a magic junkyard of some sort, she ends up seeing an opportunity to take the young woman under her wing, especially when she finds out about the nature of Drizella’s relationship with Parallel Evil Stepmother. Basically, Regina starts to view Drizella as a miniature version of herself, since Regina also had an abusive mother. When she finds out that Drizella was born with the magic gene but was not allowed to nurture it, Regina decides to become Drizella’s teacher. While at first Drizella has difficulty in honing her innate abilities, Regina ends up making a breakthrough with her when she magically creates a rockslide, leading to Drizella instinctively stopping the rocks from falling. (At least Regina’s endangering herself in her magic lessons now. A pretty good step up from when she nearly killed Emma in 3x17.)

Of course, this is when Regina finds out that Drizella wants to use her magic to kill her mother, so she can finally be free from her. Regina, who apparently has finally allowed the message to sink in (how many times did she learn this lesson?), warns her against taking that particular path. She tells Drizella about how she once sought the path of vengeance by casting the Dark Curse, and how it didn’t make her truly happy. She states that the only thing that truly made her happy was Henry. (Did she completely forget about Robin? I seem to remember Regina saying she didn’t know true happiness until he came into her life. Make up your mind, woman!)

But this is when Rumpelstiltskin pops up, fresh from his time in the Pocket Dimension. Regina, I guess, has maintained enough reverence for her former teacher to have a little aside chat with him. Which I personally wouldn’t have recommended. Apologies to all the Rumple fans out there, but I’m afraid it’ll take more than just him saying he’s a changed man before I’ll start to believe it. I’m going to need to see him actually making a tangible effort at being a better man.

Either way, Rumpelstiltskin suggests to Regina that maybe Drizella was lying when she claimed to be working against Parallel Evil Stepmother, and that maybe Parallel Evil Stepmother actually wanted her daughter to learn magic. I’m not sure if Regina took his suggestion to heart or not, but we then see her and Drizella spying on Parallel Evil Stepmother via mirror magic. As such, they see her seemingly practicing removing Anastasia’s heart. Upon seeing this, Drizella concludes that Parallel Stepmother is planning to kill her in order to resurrect Anastasia. Because the only way of resurrecting Anastasia is by replacing her heart with the heart of another. Once again, Drizella begs Regina to help her kill her mother, as she believes that it’s the only way she can be safe from her mother’s plan. But when Regina tries to tell her that that’s not the way, Drizella runs off on her own.

Later that night, however, Regina manages to track Drizella down, arriving in the middle of Drizella’s confrontation with Parallel Evil Stepmother. Once again, Regina tries to talk Drizella out of killing her mother. But that’s when Drizella reveals that she didn’t come to kill her mother. Without further warning, Drizella proceeds to kill her prince fiancé. (Did they ever mention this guy before? I remember them mentioning that the prince Parallel Evil Stepmother killed in the first episode turned Drizella down, which is why Parallel Stepmother wanted him dead. But did they ever allude to this other prince before this scene? I have no memory of it if they did. Where are all these unnamed princes coming from?)

Anyway, it comes out that this was Drizella’s plan. She’d purposely darken her heart so Parallel Stepmother wouldn’t be able to use it in her plan to bring back Anastasia. And then, to further spite her mother by making sure she’d remain miserable, she plans to follow Regina’s example by casting the Dark Curse. Because she apparently completely misinterpreted Regina’s attempts at explaining why it was a bad thing.

So let me get this straight. This means that this whole mess with the new curse, and Henry believing that he’s a failed writer who lost his wife and daughter in a fire, is pretty much Regina’s fault. And if she had just stayed at home instead of tagging along on her son’s adventure, none of this would have happened. Okay, maybe I’m not quite being fair to Regina here. It’s not as if she knew this would happen. And I suppose I do see a little similarity to how things went sour with Merlin and Nimue (because Merlin hadn’t anticipated how deeply Nimue’s anger at Vortigan ran.) But at the same, it’s like how the old saying goes- the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

Now, you’re probably asking why Drizella decided to purposely wake Regina up. Because you’d think having Regina awake would lead to her actively helping break the curse. But it turns out that Drizella is able to blackmail Regina. Because there’s some sort of nasty clause attached to Drizella’s Dark Curse. If it does end up being broken by Henry and Jacinda/Parallel Cinder sharing TLK, then something really bad is supposed to happen. Of course, they never actually state what this horribly bad thing is going to be. But whatever it is, it’s probably something to do with Henry, because Drizella is able to manipulate Regina into trying to keep Henry and Jacinda from falling in love. But the solution to this is simple. All Regina has to do is just share what she knows with Lucy. After all, she’s Henry’s kid, and it’s obvious she inherited a lot of her father’s best traits. If there’s anyone who can find a loophole to Drizella’s nasty clause, then it would be Lucy.

This episode also has a little moment that rubbed quite a few people the wrong way, myself included. It’s the scene when Regina is telling Henry about everything that happened with Drizella, and how she’s now planning to use everything Regina taught her against them. In this scene, Regina admits that she was feeling as if Henry didn’t need her anymore. To which Henry tells her that she’ll always be his mother, yadda yadda yadda. While this is a nice statement and all, it’s how he words it that’s the problem. He actually claims that Regina was the first person who loved him, and that she was the only one who loved him for years.

Okay, hold the bus a second. At times like this, I really think the show writers need to go back and watch S1 again. Because they seem to be forgetting that Emma had loved Henry, too. Even before he showed up on her doorstep. She loved him so much, she gave him up for adoption. It wasn’t because she wanted to give him up. It was because she believed that he would be better off being raised by someone else. It’s why she wouldn’t let herself look at him when he was born- because she knew if she did, she would change her mind. And she knew she couldn’t let herself do that, for Henry’s sake. She even made sure that he would be adopted, in order to prevent him from ending up in the foster system like she was. Because she didn’t want that life for him. Henry even stated in the pilot episode that he knew Emma had given him up so he’d have his best chance. And Emma only decided to stay in Storybrooke because she was having doubts that Henry was being properly taken care of. As for Henry’s claim that Regina was the only one who loved him for years? What about Archie, Mary Margret and Sheriff Graham? I think it’s safe to say they at least cared about him. Do they not count?

This is besides the fact that Regina was a horrible mother to Henry for ten years. This was the woman who mentally abused and gaslit him, throwing him into therapy and trying to make everyone, including Henry himself, believe that he was crazy when he started to suspect that there was something wrong with the town, especially since he was the only one who was physically aging. This was the woman who the show strongly implied left Henry alone all day on a regular basis so she could go off and spend the day having sex with the brainwashed Sheriff Graham. The Henry of S1 even stated on more than one occasion that he didn’t believe that Regina loved him. So you can spare me these attempts to make it sound like Regina was always this wonderful, loving mother to Henry. Because if Henry was completely happy living with Regina as you’re now claiming he was, then why would he have ran away and looked for Emma in the first place? You know, sometimes I wonder about that scene when Regina erased some of Henry’s memories in 2x20, in her attempt to make him forget how she’d just announced her plan to destroy the town and everyone in it. I wonder if she tampered with all of his memories, and not just his short-term ones.

Meanwhile, we also got a subplot with Detective Rogers/Wish Killian, who is continuing his ongoing search for this mysterious Eloise. Because Weaver/Rumpelstiltskin is on medical leave as he recovers from getting shot last episode, Rogers decides to seek assistance from Tilly/New Alice. Why? I have no idea. Maybe he figured that Tilly, being a street urchin and all, is in a better position to hear the word on the street or something. Either way, Tilly takes Rogers back to her home, which is located inside an abandoned boxcar. While they’re there, Tilly starts speaking in riddles and resorting to chess metaphors. Basically, she tells Roger that, if he really wants to find Eloise, he should take a closer look at which pieces he has on his side of the chess board. In other words, he should really study the evidence he already has in front of him.

On a side note, the sharp eyes of other viewers took note of the fact that there was a black rook and a white knight painted on the sides of Tilly’s boxcar house. Which I gather is supposed to be further evidence that Tilly/New Alice is Wish Killian’s long-lost daughter. While I will admit there might be something to this theory, I still find myself scratching my head over one nagging detail. If New Alice is the daughter, then why would she seemingly ally herself to Rumpelstiltskin, her father’s bitterest enemy? Considering Wish Killian is supposed to have an identical backstory to Killian Prime, up until the point when the curse was cast in Enchanted Forest Prime, it’s probably safe to conclude that Wish Killian also shared a blood feud with Wish Rumpelstiltskin, and would therefore hate Rumpelstiltskin Prime.

Anyway, on Tilly’s advice, Rogers goes back to scouring the few articles he’s collected for Eloise’s case file. This leads him to once again suspect Tattoo Guy of knowing something. But when he ventures over to Tattoo Guy’s home address, he ends up finding Tattoo Guy lying dead on the floor. So he’s still nowhere closer to solving the mystery of Eloise. Thankfully, based on episode titles, it looks like that’s going to be a major focus in the next episode. Hopefully, that will be good. Because after this episode, I really could use a good Wish Killian centric. (What can I say? The guy’s grown on me.)

Also, we did get a rather adorable bit with Henry and Jacinda/Parallel Cinder. Jacinda happened to see some pictures Ivy posted on social media, depicting the drink she shared with Henry. (So much for Ivy’s claim that she wasn’t looking to spite her stepsister.) Of course, this results in the cliché of the girl jumping to conclusions and giving the guy the cold shoulder without letting him explain his side of the story. But Roni/Regina, deciding to play matchmaker, sorta tricks Henry into coming with her to this pizza place (which included a Lady and the Tramp reference), knowing full well that this pizza place was just around the corner from the spot where Jacinda and Sabine were giving their new food truck a new paint job and whatnot. This led to an extremely cute scene when Henry pulls a ‘Say Anything’ move to get Jacinda’s attention. Long story short, he finally ends up asking her out. And we get to see Henry acting like a huge nerd when Jacinda agrees. But of course, we now have to deal with the fact that Regina is probably going to try to drive a wedge between them to prevent this horrible thing that’s supposed to happen if the curse breaks with True Love’s Kiss. So this might be a bit annoyingly painful. Of course, it would really help if we were actually TOLD what this big horrible thing is supposed to be. Hopefully, they won’t keep us in the dark for too long.

(Click here to read more Episode Analyses)

#ouat episode analysis #ouat 7x06 #henry mills #lucy mills #jacinda #parallel!cinderella #roni #regina mills #slightly anti regina #detective rogers #wish world!killian #tilly #new alice #victoria belfrey #parallel!evil stepmother #ivy belfry #drizella #slightly anti rumpelstitskin #anti regal believer

11 notes · View notes