#the only one of Silver's songs simple enough for me to get more than fragmentally

[penig]

Bonus Song: My Baby Sister, by Silver Beech Hart My baby sister puts on makeup My baby sister's bound to dance My baby sister is too good for you mister And you're lucky that she's giving you a chance! My baby sister is an artist, her heart as precious and as fragile as spun glass. My baby sister has four big brothers And we'll all hold her stuff if she needs to kick your ass.

My baby sister gets all dressed up My baby sister's hot tonight My baby sister's in charge of who can kiss her If you want to make the cut you'll treat her right. My baby sister is a lady, Refined as sugar, brandy, or cold steel. My baby sister has four big brothers And we taught her how to drive, so don't try to take the wheel!

[beyondtheglasswall]

;; [love] (4)

[1]       [2]       [3]       [4]

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       The banging of gunfire echoed over the fragmented city. 

       Its sole source, the silver-colored metal guardian, scanned the area methodically. Next to it stood Takuya, eyes shifting between his surroundings and the PDA he was holding. A defensive formation he’d cooked up--one in which he could watch his surroundings, while also being prepared for any sudden attack.

       A blur of pink suddenly darted at Takuya, Earthes quickly turning with a pistol drawn and firing at it--only for it it to change course, shooting back into the mismatched scenery as the shot zipped past it.

“Damn it...” 

       So far, his defense had been working. But that was the best he could manage. Up to this point, their fight had been a complete stalemate.

       It wasn’t like the other times he’d fought Arytha. She had fought him head-one in all of their other encounters, with little care given to strategy or tactics. Now, she had been attacking him carefully and methodically, seeming to back of whenever the advantage was lost.

       That wasn’t her style. And that worried him. 

“What’s with the hit-and-run tactics? You aren’t going to fight me like normal?”

       Takuya heard a chuckle from behind him. A rotation of his thumb and press of a button, and Earthes turned and fired at nothing. 

“Why should I do that? You’ve got a big glaring weakness right there.”

       ‘Glaring weakness’, huh?

“What are you talking about? Earthes is the same as always, and I was able to beat you with him last time.”

“--You’re not seriously this stupid, are you?”

       His hand moved quickly, and his gun fired again. An empty trash can, with a new hole in it, spun into the air and clattered against the floor.

       Damn it. Were she any other opponent, Interdimend’s native Oversight would be enough for him to keep up. But she also had Oversight, and she was clearly adjusting her movements to keep up with his search. And she would keep doing it, until she found a decisive opening.

       Despite her immature demeanor, Takuya felt like when it came to ‘games’, Arytha was probably unmatched.

       He cursed under his breath, looking down at his PDA. At this right, their fight would continue like this. Neither side would take an advantage, and once one of them tired out, that would be it. 

       He couldn’t guarantee that wouldn’t be him. Nor could he say for certain no one else would suddenly happen upon their fight--and that it wouldn’t be an enemy.

       If those were his options, then...

       A series of clicks and taps, and Earthes suddenly twirled his pistol--coming to a stop right at the ground. Takuya quickly covered his mouth. 

       And then, he’d fire. A cloud of dust shot up. He’d keep firing. More would cover the area. He’d fire everywhere he could feasibly reach, until the clouds began covering the entire block they were in. And then, he and Earthes started running. 

       ‘What are you even doing?’, he could hear her thinking. A simple cloud of dust wouldn’t do much against Oversight, especially the later levels of it. It would simply take her looking into the possibilities of his future actions, and finding out what he was doing and where he was doing. A simple dust cloud was too simple a distraction to cover that option. 

       But, as Arytha would soon realize, the terrain was also changing once again. The variables for change soon went from double digits to triple, and the more chaos he created, the more that number increased. 

       He wasn’t sure, but he thought he’d heard an irritated ‘tch’ amidst everything. Regardless, he needed to get moving. Darting through one pathway, through the newly forming buildings and roads that were solidifying all around him--he only had so much time before his chance was lost. 

       In order to force the fight to a straightforward one, he’d have to find an open space. Only there could he push his best strengths against Arytha. There, her range was limited to Song Magic and close-range attacks, whereas Earthes had enough varied firepower and defenses to keep her at bay while still defending Takuya himself.

       That seemed to be his plan, and he’d found his way to his goal: an open plaza not unlike the one in Felion, with a clear view peering over to the island below. It was perfect, and would have eventually guaranteed a victory for him. He just needed to get in the center, and get ready for Arytha to arrive.

       He thought that, until he heard something scream through the air behind him. His hands went to his PDA, as he quickly input a command--

       And then he felt a screaming, burning sensation impact against his back. 

       Takuya’s feet left the floor, and he felt his own forward momentum mixing with the blast that hit his back. His grip on his PDA was completely lost, and he felt it leave his hands. Where exactly it went, he couldn’t tell. He only had enough time to process he’d been flung forward--before he realized the edge was getting closer. Very close. Too close.

       Then he realized he’d gone over the edge. 

       Just before his heart could stop from the shock, something seized his leg. It wasn’t Earthes, obviously. His breathing staggered from the last few seconds, Takuya looked up to see a grin and head of pink hair looking down at him.

“You know, some people hate math, but I find it pretty fun. Physics and probability, especially.”

       --What the hell? Was Arytha implying she’d figured out where he was doing based on probability? And that the impact from the shot he’d just been hit with was an intentional physics calculation?

“I mean, I could’ve just blown you to bits, but this is funner.” 

       He heard her huff decisively, and then suddenly he was going up. Then over. Then he was back to being thrown--right up until he slammed into a vacant market stand.

       He wasn’t sure the crack he just heard was the broken wood or him.

“’F-Funner’ isn’t a real word...” 

“Oh hey, you aren’t broken yet!” A smirk. “And it totally is.”

       Crawling from the wooden wreckage, Takuya’s scanned his surroundings in a panic. He could see Earthes, inactive, standing at the center of the plaza. But his PDA...

“Over there~.”

       He noticed Arytha jutting a thumb to a spot slightly behind her--and spotted the silver, clamshell-design device sitting on the ground. It looked like it was still intact, the screen mostly unscathed.

“You wanna get to it, don’t you? Let’s make a game out of it!” 

       Takuya strained to get to his feet. Yeah, that crack was him. It hurt, but it didn’t hurt enough. He could still walk, and he could still run. Right at Arytha, a fist raised--

       Only for another, covered in a steel gauntlet, to fly right at him. He moved his other arm in the way of it; a panicked block--only to hear another crack as his feet left the ground again. He tumbled backwards, eventually coming to a stop on his back.

“Oof, I kinda felt that. Wanna try again?”

       Takuya struggled to his feet, and winced. His right arm--that was the one that had taken that blow. It hurt like hell when he tried to move it. There was no way he could use that arm in its current state. Despite that... Gritting his teeth, he clenched the fist on his remaining arm, and pushed himself forward, through all the hits he’d take.

“Ooh, c’mon, again!” Again. “Almost!” And again. “One more try!” And again.

       At this point, he could taste blood. He wasn’t sure if it was something internal, or if it was him biting his lip during one of the hits he’d taken. Either way, he struggled to his feet, his movement slower than the last attempt.

       Arytha, for her part, was starting to look bored. A sigh escaped her as she watched the haggard young man in front of her.

“Remember what I said about that ‘glaring weakness’? It’s standing right in front of me.”

       Takuya only glared silently. “What?”

“Why’d you come here in the first place?” 

“You said it yourself. Not much has changed since the last time we fought it out--there’s no doubt Earthes could still take me down in a straight fight. But instead, you came along. Piloting the big hunk of metal while standing right in the crossfire. Why?” The girl chuckled to herself, as if she’d already found the reason. “Are you trying to prove something? That you’re able to take some risk, or stick your neck out?”

“Or... Maybe you think you’re some big hero, rushing to the rescue like last time. But, that just raises the same questions as last time.” Her tone, once mirthful as she mocked him, yet again became cutting. “Why are you even bothering? The people you’re saving don’t have anything to do with you. Some of them don’t even deserve the time you’re putting in. You’re just wasting your energy.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?”

       Suddenly, Arytha got a glare to match Takuya’s “What’s that?” 

       Takuya didn’t falter against it.

“It’s not that I think I’m some kind of hero. I resent that idea, in fact.”

“Do I need some special reason to help someone? Some kind of title? If someone’s calling for help, and I can help them, do I just ignore them? If I can hear someone crying, do I pretend I didn’t hear anything and move on with my life?”

“You misunderstood my entire motive... I didn’t help the people on the Soreil because I was looking for some kind of reward. Just helping them was enough of a reward.”

       Suddenly, Arytha’s expression shifted from anger to confusion.

“What are you--”

“I’m sorry for what happened to your sister. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner to help you both. I can’t help that. I can only do my best with what’s right in front of me.”

       This wasn’t any of what she was expecting. Where was that anger from earlier? Had he already calmed down? But no, even then--what the hell was he even on about?!

“Shut up already! Are you even listening to yourself? I’m trying to kill you, you moron!”

“You won’t.”

       That did it. Raising her hand, she spoke in a language none on the island would understand but those from Ra Ciela. A song--and as she sang, light began to collect in her hand. More. And more. Until a large orb of light was entirely in her hand.

       He didn’t react in the slightest. Her vision started going red.

“SAY THAT AFTER I’VE BLOWN YOU TO PIECES!”

       Screaming at the top of her lungs, Arytha threw herself at Takuya. Fast enough to be right in front of him in a second, her arm raised.

       Only for Takuya to suddenly duck down--faster than she thought he was able to move right now--

       Then she heard a gunshot as something hit her square in the stomach. Her arms went limp for a moment, and the orb of light that was supposed to kill him suddenly shot off into the sky.

“E-Earthes--?!” No, that didn’t come from the robot. It was still inactive on the side. The angle wasn’t right, either. It hit her exposed stomach, where Takuya had ducked to--which meant--

       Another, this time hitting her chin. 

       And yet, despite two shots hitting her head-on, there was no blood.

“(A Song Magic barrier...)”

       Arytha stumbled backwards, and a series of shots rang out, revealing a thin iridescent layer layer that was covering her body. They kept coming, and as more and more hit, the barrier began to crack. But not every single one hit their mark, a few of them angling slightly to her sides or above her. 

       Eventually the shock of it wore off, and she raised her gauntlets in defense, the shots refusing to relent.

“You really think that’s going to be enough...?!” 

       Peeking through her guard, she could see Takuya, grimacing, with a pistol in his hand. The very same model Earthes had. 

       It was at this point she realized Earthes had only been holding a single pistol in their earlier stalemate.

“Of course not!”

       The arm he was shooting with was shaking as he said that. Even studying Morgan’s examples, he still couldn’t quite compensate for the recoil. Right now, all he could do was point and shoot, praying that he wouldn’t end up with a stress fracture. 

       He just kept firing and firing, with Arytha being pushed back further and further. 

       Closer to the edge.

“Ah--” Arytha’s eyes widened with clarity. “Trying to push me off...? What a weak plan--”

       Pressing her legs into the ground, the hacker in the body of a tiny girl suddenly rushed forward, gauntlets formed to protect her from any shots coming her way.

“Game over, you--”

“Checkmate.”

       The single word cut through her train of thought. That was her line. Even with a pistol that hit as hard as Earthes’s, there was no way Takuya could defend against a direct hit from her at this point. Just one more would probably incapacitate him. 

       Then she heard the sound of metal moving, and machinery reactivating. She wouldn’t have enough time to turn and see the guardian revving up the giant laser rifle on its being.

       Out of the corner of her eye, screaming light consumed her entire body.

“YOU--”

       It’d been a plan the entire time. If Arytha could make out his PDA at that moment, she’d see that the screen had been processing a purposefully delayed input. She would see on the screen that Takuya had watched the fight carefully, observing right up until this possibility to have Earthes fire. Even his talking--even her talking--was something set up to match up for this timing, for this single opening.

       Because for all her talk of ‘glaring weaknesses’, she had her own. He’d seen it himself; in their fights on the Soreil, in he and Ritsuka’s fight against her, and even now. In her hands, she held a power that could oversee the world itself. And yet, she only ever used it when she needed to. When she thought she’d already won, it never came to mind. She’d happily beat on her opponent, fully confident her own talents and genius would lead her to victory.

       It wouldn’t even occur to her that a weaker opponent with the same power would be able to use it against her to any serious effect.

       The iridescent barrier chipped away, then shattered against the light. Her tiny body was slowly burned down by the blast, pushed back from the force of the cannon. Further and further, taking more and more damage--

“--!”

       And right off the ledge she went. She could see the entire city, moments before she would go plummeting down to her death.

       For a moment, she was angrier than she’d ever been. Beaten again. And for the same reasons as last time. 

       By that same piece of filth--

“Gaaah!!!” 

       But. Right as she started going below the island’s ground level, something snatched her arm. 

       Turning, she really couldn’t believe the idiocy she was seeing.

“You... What... what the fuck are you doing...?”

       He was holding onto her. Completely prone, it looked like he’d had to dive to catch her. Using his only other arm, he was only barely holding onto her. And judging by his struggling, he wouldn’t be able to pull her up any time soon.

“Just shut up already...” He felt like kicking himself--he must’ve guessed a number wrong when he tried calculating how far she’d be sent. “I need to figure out how to get you up here...”

       ... What the fuck was this guy?

“I just... tried to kill you... Hell, you’re one-foot-in-the-grave right now...”

“Again. Shut up.”

“Tell me why.”

       He’d either growled under his breath or groaned.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t know if... you’re actually in Prim’s body or not... Not gonna take the risk of taking Delta and Cass’s daughter from them.”

       ...

“And... I don’t know how your Interdimend works, but if that’s really you in that body, I’m not going to take Ulyliyha’s sister from her...”

       ...

“You...”

“Please...” He grunted, trying and failing to pull her up through his injuries. “Stop moving, I really don’t want to drop you...”

       --He’d never intended to kill her at the end of this. Even after it all, he was going to spare her life. For the sake of his friends, and for her sister’s sake. All the gunshots, all the talk, all the beatings he’d taken. The entire plan she realized he’d had from the very beginning--

       At the end of it all, he was still holding onto her, for the sake of other people.

       For the first time since their fight had started, Arytha didn’t have anything to say.

       Her anger at his obnoxious ‘love’ had just... tapped out.

“... ... ... I really don’t get you.”

       With what little strength she had, she raised her other hand up.

“I really don’t.”

       And yanked it back down.

“What?” Takuya couldn’t make out what she’d muttered to herself. “Listen, just sit tight, and let me--”

       He heard that same screaming sound as he did when he was running to the plaza. And right as he did, he felt something slam against his back. It was that same feeling as earlier, but weaker. His mind went to the blast Arytha had let go of, when she charged at him earlier.

       The pain from it caused his entire body to tense and spasm. 

       And in that moment, his grip released.

“--! No-!”

       He tried to reach his hand back out again, only to grab nothing. He only had enough time to look over the edge, and watch Prim’s tiny form descend onto the city. 

       Enough time to see Arytha’s expression... and not be able to read it.

       He couldn’t take his eyes away from the scene. Watching silently, motionlessly, as Arytha Tiryjha and Prim continued falling. Right until he could no longer see them. 

       Silence. The only things Takuya heard for the next few seconds were his own shaky breathing and the fighting still going on across Spirale.

       Eventually, with pained sounds, Takuya rolled back onto the island, wincing as his back made contact with the ground. He tried forcing himself back onto his feet, but couldn’t. He looked over to the side, seeing Earthes and his PDA a short distance from him? Could he crawl? Another forceful grunt--no, he couldn’t. 

       So, he was stuck here.

“... ... ... Damn it...”

       Only cursing to himself, all Takuya did, for as long as he could remain conscious, was stare into the sky above.

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

His Smile Will Keep You Safe - Chapter Seven

Warnings: graphic description of symptoms of depression and panic attacks

Word Count: 5 260

The next day started out slow. To prepare the show, you had to be at the venue around noon, so using the time in the morning, everyone slept in, had a late breakfast, and took some time for themselves.

Technically you still had to edit the pictures of the past two days, but you decided that if you did this now, there would be nothing to do while the others were working in the venue. Usually you loved spending some time alone, but after having been constantly surrounded by people for the past weeks, being alone suddenly made you feel nervous.

Charlie and Luis had gone out for breakfast, probably in a small café, and other than them, nobody had shared your room. So, searching for some company, you stepped out into the corridor. At the end of it, by a small window, Lucas was on the phone with somebody, discussing details for an upcoming radio interview that Dallon and Ryan would have to do.

Turning the other way, you strode past closed doors, trying to remember Lisa’s room number, when suddenly the fragments of a melody made you stop in your tracks. You listened more closely to what sounded like an electric guitar, or bass, being played without the amps, making the song sound flat and quiet. Turning to see the room number, you recalled that this was the room Dallon and Ryan shared.

The door was open a little, so you knocked, expecting Dallon to answer, but instead it was Ryan. Pushing the door open further, you found the drummer sitting on a stool by the table, Dallon’s white bass in his lap, the black strap hanging over his shoulders.

When he saw you, he smiled brightly, and got up.

“(y/n), hey,” he greeted, “what’s up?”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you, I thought it was Dallon playing,” you apologized.

“No, he’s out with Bill, checking out the music store down the street,” he explained.

“So… you’re practicing,” you asked, and immediately wanted to punch yourself. Of course he was practicing.

“Yeah, just wanted to get back into it a little,” Ryan shrugged, “has been ages since I last played the bass properly.”

You nodded, thinking that he probably wanted to be left alone, but just when you were about to announce that you would leave, he spoke up again.

“If you like, I can show you some things,” he offered, suddenly seeming a little shy.

“Ahm, sure, if that’s okay for you,” you answered.

Hesitantly you stepped into the room, and closed the door. Ryan stood up from the stool, and motioned for you to sit down.

“Have you ever played the bass?”

You shook your head no.

“I had some piano lessons when I was in school, but that’s about as much musical understanding as I have,” you admitted, making Ryan giggle.

“That’s fine, don’t worry.”

He took off the bass, and handed it to you, so the headstock was pointing left. Carefully he helped you put on the strap; then he knelt down in front of you, gesturing you to sit down.

“So, as you can probably guess, these are the stings,” he explained.

“Oh really,” you asked wide eyed, the sarcasm in your voice causing Ryan to laugh.

“Yes, really,” he answered, trying to stay serious, “E-string, A-string, D-string, and G-string.” One after the other he plucked the strings from the furthest one up, to the one in the bottom, which sounded the highest, “and these are called frets.”

He pointed to the small silver lines on the neck of the bass.

“This is the first fret, second fret,” he placed his fingers on the fret closest to the head, then let it wander down to the second, “third, and so on. The further down you place your finger, the short the string gets,” he pushed his finger down on the G-string on the second fret and plugged the string, “and as you probably know, the shorter the string, the higher the sound. Same goes for the piano too.”

You nodded, this much you remembered.

“Okay, cool. So let’s try to play something. Any suggestions?”

For a moment you searched your brain for any song that you would like to play, but it felt as if all of the music you had ever know had suddenly disappeared from your brain, and all you could really think about was the way Ryan was sitting on the floor in front of you, his beautiful brown eyes staring up at you expectantly.

“Can we play something from you guys,” you asked, finally managing to remember that Ryan was, in fact, playing in a band, and they had songs featuring the bass.

“Yeah, sure, let me think,” Ryan furrowed his brows, the nodded, “how about Bleed Magic? It’s pretty simple.”

“Okay, so what do I do?”

Ryan stood up, and walked around you. You could feel him standing close to your back before he leant down, his head next to yours. With his left hand, he took yours, and led it to the neck of the instrument.

“Push down on the D-string, on the third fret,” he instructed.

You moved your hand down the neck to the third fret, but your fingers hovered in the air uncertainly.

“Which one was the D-string again,” you asked timidly.

From the corner of your eyes you could see Ryan smile.

“The second from the bottom,” he repeated patiently. Carefully he moved his hand so his fingers were on top of yours. “And you’ll want to use your middle finger for this, because later we’ll play the first and the fifth fret, and then you don’t have to move your hand so much.”

You nodded, and pressed down on the D-string with your middle finger, Ryan’s finger still gently on top of yours.

“Now pluck the string, but only the D-String, or it’ll sound terrible,” he laughed.

Carefully you did as he said, but the sound that you drew from the instrument was horrible.

“Ew, what’s wrong,” you wondered, turning your head to Ryan.

He smiled, “That’s because you’re not pressing down hard enough. You really have to nail the string to the neck with your finger, really, really hard.” He observed as you followed his instructions. “And now plug it again.”

The sound was quiet, but definitely there.

“And feel free to plug a little harder than that,” he advised, and when you did, you finally drew a proper sound from the bass.

It felt strange, feeling the string vibrate under the finger which pressed it down, but you liked it.

“Great, now pluck it again, and then move to the first fret of the A-string.”

Again you did as he had told you to, and you felt him reach his right arm around you, so he was able to plug the strings too. Far too distracted by the close proximity of your bodies, you did not notice how he told you what to do next. Only when he called your name, you snapped back into the moment, and quickly placed your finger on the third fret of the D-String again.

Ryan’s chest was pressing to your back, his arms wrapped around you, the side of his head so close to yours that they were almost touching. You felt your fingers shaking underneath Ryan’s, but his hand steadied them.

Plucking the string repeatedly, he quietly hummed along the beginning of the chorus. Moving his fingers, he guided you to press down on the A-string again, and he continued humming the melody. Then he moved your ring finger to press down on the fifth fret, and quietly he continued singing the chorus, while guiding you to play along.

His voice was raspy and deeper than Dallon’s, making a shiver run down your spine when you noticed how his breath fanned over the side of your face. Gently he continued guiding your fingers over the strings, halting the singing until you had found the right fret, and this way played the entire song with you.

When the song was over, you expected him to pull away, but instead the fingers of his left hand closed around those of yours a little tighter, and you felt him turning his head to look at you.

“Anything else you want to play, I think Modern Day Caine is quite easy too,” he suggested.

You were pretty shaky already, your heart beating so hard that you feared continuing this would probably not be very healthy, but you would be dammed if you allowed this to end sooner than it had to.

Just when you had opened your mouth to agree, there was a knock on the door, and it was opened. Bill was standing in the frame, and Ryan let go of you as quickly as if he had burned himself on your skin.

“We’re heading to the venue in ten, get ready guys,” Bill announced, and disappeared again.

For a moment there was silence between the two of you, while you progressed what had just happened.

It was you who spoke up first.

“Thanks for showing me,” you smiled, “Maybe you can show me a little more some other time.”

Ryan nodded eagerly, and helped you take the bass off, placing it in its box.

~*~

The next morning, the obnoxious blaring of some cheesy 80s song woke you up rather ruthlessly. You heard Luis move around to turn it off, before feet hit the carpeted floor and started moving around the room.

Your body felt heavy, and breathing felt difficult, as if a weight had been placed on your chest. A premonition started growing in your chest, and you tried sitting up, but your body would not react. It was as if the connection between your brain and your limbs had been cut.

This was not the first time you experienced this paralysis. Some people knew this feeling from sleep paralysis, but for you it was different. For you it meant that your mental health was declining, and not being able to move in the morning was one of the sign.

You felt tears well up in your still closed eyes. Why did this have to happen now? Had you not been spending some amazing weeks with great people? Had you not made a bunch of friends, had not Ryan started stealing your heart in the sweetest and most beautiful way? Why did this have to happen now? Why did the depression always try to ruin everything that was good?

You allowed a couple of hot tears to roll down the side of your face and into your hair. It was still really early. Today you had to make a trip of five hours from Chicago to Sankt Louis, so everyone had to get up at five in the morning to be ready to leave at seven, to make it to the next venue around noon.

Luis had taken a quick shower, and Charlie also started getting up. The sounds of the two men rummaging through their belongings, their naked feet patting over the floor, the occasional sound of a car passing by outside, made you calm down from the initial anger you had experienced.

Of course you were worried that you might be unable to do your job properly, should you really be falling into a depressive episode, but everyone on the team was so kind and caring, that, even though Ryan and Lars were the only ones knowing about your struggles so far, you were sure the rest of the crew would support you, and be understanding.

Clinging to that thought, and the image of Ryan sitting at the breakfast table, waiting for you to join him, motivated you, and you focused on moving again. You knew that if you would think something like “Just move your hand”, your body, or rather a messed up part of your brain, would block it, so instead you decided to reach for your mobile to look at your pictures of the show a couple of days ago, which Lucas had posted to iDKHOW’s Instagram page.

And miraculously it worked. You allowed yourself to soak up the colour and energy of some of the pictures, then having broken the initial blockade, you sat up and placed your feet on the floor. Outside, the sky started turning grey from the sun that had not yet peeked over the horizon.

Luis shot you a small smile when he saw you were awake. Like the two men you shared the room with, you started packing your things after you had refreshed yourself in the small en-suit bathroom.

Not feeling in the mood for make-up, you allowed yourself to leave the room without having put any on. Adding to not feeling in the mood for it, was the hope of getting to sleep on the bus, and the fear that if you were to burst into tears, you would turn into a little panda.

Wearing a pair of shorts, and a soft hoodie over an ancient band shirt, you left the room, backpack over your shoulder, side by side with Charlie and Luis, to join the others for breakfast.

The image of Ryan which had gotten you out of bed eventually was laid out in front of you almost exactly as you had imagined it. When he noticed the door to the breakfast room opening, he turned his head, and when he spotted you, his brow eyes started glowing with adoration, a big smile spreading over his face.

Immediately he scooted to the side so you were able to sit down on the bench next to him, and before you had even muttered a “hello”, he already had poured you a cup of tea.

“Tired,” he asked gently.

Your stomach turned at the thought that if you would continue feeling this down you eventually would have to tell somebody, and that Ryan would worry and be concerned for you. But not now. Maybe you just had a bad dream, which you could not remember, and this was the aftermath.

“A little,” you answered his question, and thanked him when he handed you the plate with fruits.

~*~

That it had not been the aftermath of a bad dream, but really the beginning of a few bad days, or maybe even more, got clear the next day. If Monday, the prior day, had been unpleasant, then Tuesday, today, was hell incarnated.

You barely got up in the morning, constantly felt like you were taking very shallow breaths, that left your lungs aching for air, and your body felt heavier than lead. But you tried to do your work as if nothing was going on.

Clicking through pictures half-heartedly, getting bored of editing them as soon as you had opened the program, and staring at the screen for ten minutes without doing anything, felt like torture.

But in the evening it got worse.

The music the bands were playing seemed too loud for your ears, and even the songs you loved the most got on your nerves. You had never before gotten so easily annoyed by the slightest inconvenience.

Rage bubbled up inside of you when someone accidently bumped into you, and you felt like throwing your camera through the room when one of the photos had turned out blurry.

And what made it worse was that you were aware of everything. It was as if your feelings were operated by remote control by someone else, while you were helplessly watching as rage and impatience filled up your entire body.

The show ended no second too early, and as soon as the last note had faded in the cheers of the crowd, you stormed out of the venue, throwing the heavy fire door open with as much force as you could muster.

The night was warm, and not really helping you to cool down your nerves. Finally being able to work off your anger, you stormed down the street, and turned left, almost running now. Your lungs were burning, and your legs felt week, but you kept going until you reached the next crossing, turning left again.

Your body seemed strangely disconnected from your mind, but at least you managed to remember that walking in circles would probably be a clever idea, considering you did not know the city.

When finally the bright red ball of rage in your chest had faded, you slowed down. Your breathing was quick, and your sides hurt from breathing so irregularly. Your feet hurt, and only now you realized you were crying silently. You reached the next corner, the last before you would turn back into the street of the venue; you halted your steps, and leant against the grey wall of the building.

Through your tears the orange street lights blurred into huge, flickering lights of comfort. The wall was rigid and warm, and giving into your shaking knees, you sunk to the floor, pulling your knees up to your chest, and hugging them tightly, burying your face between them to hide your tears. You heard people pass you by, their chatter growing quiet when they walked past you, and picking back up as soon as they had brought a few feet between you and themselves.

Some of the people were singing songs that faintly reminded you of somebody, but right now you could not find it in you to care. You were wailing in self-pity, and you knew that it was okay to do so, for now. But then you would have to pick yourself up again, and get back to work.

Randomly you remembered that the songs the people in the distance were singing were songs by Dallon and Ryan; they had most likely been at the concert.

All of a sudden you felt very lost. You were far away from home, in a city, in a state you had never been to before. Your parents were far away, your friends were far away, and all the people on the tour bus with you had either been strangers until three weeks ago, or they were your ex-boyfriend.

For the first time on this trip the feeling of being lost in a world made for giants overwhelmed you. It made your heart ache; knowing that nobody was around who, without asking any questions, would just take you in their arms. You longed for familiarity, safety, warmth of another human being, and you had nobody to go to. These thoughts made you cry harder, until eventually you were all out of tears, and your breathing calmed down from sobs to heavy breaths and occasional sighs.

Slowly the world around you seemed to be able to get through the small bubble you had been caged in. Sometimes a car was driving by, and in the distance there were still people talking. Someone walked past you, and then another person. Even though you longed for the feeling of a familiar person caring for you, it gave you comfort that strangers did not give you a second thought.

Another person walked up to you, their steps heavy, and the pattern slightly familiar. The person stopped in front of you, and then, without saying a single word, sat down close next to you. You caught a breeze of coffee and some men’s deodorant, which you did not recognize, so not Ryan then. A big, warm hand landed on your shoulder, and patted you gently, and when you did not reject, he pulled you into him.

“It’s gonna be alright,” a deep voice mumbled, and finally you realized that it was Lucas, who had found you.

He was soft, his shirt a little sweaty, and you could feel his beard against your hair. Somehow he reminded you of your father, even though the two looked nothing alike. Just like your father, Lucas seemed to have the ability to understand you without words, and calm you down when you were upset.

Even though you had no real idea why, your father had always been better at this than your mother. Maybe it was because he, and Lucas too, gave you time, allowed you to be the first one to speak. Both men were able to radiate calmness, and sitting here next to Lucas, you felt like a four year old again, when you had been in a fight with your best friend, and your father had found you crying in the park under a tree.

“I think I might be getting another depressive episode,” you eventually mumbled, feeling the need to share this with somebody.

Lucas said nothing; he just rubbed your back a little. Your head was resting on his shoulder, your eyes closed, as you continued talking.

“I’ve had depression before, and I’m taking my meds and all, but since yesterday, everything is so bad, and I just want to cry-“

You felt your voice being suffocated by yet another wave of tears, so you stopped.

Lucas allowed you to cry for a while, gently rubbing your back every now and then, before he finally spoke up.

“That’s okay. It’s not your fault. Everyone gets sick sometimes. Some people get a cold, others the flue, and you got depression. That’s not the end of the world.”

It was as if he had spoken a spell, which made you realize, that maybe it really was not that bad. What you had been worried about most of the time so far had been that he would sent you home once he found out you were struggling, but maybe he would not? And yes, that still left you with this black hole in your stomach, that swallowed all the light and happiness inside of you, but at least you were still allowed to see the world, to spend time with Ryan.

Lifting your head up, you looked at Lucas questioningly.

“Are you going to send me home,” you asked, because that was what had bothered you the most, and you needed a definite answer to this question.

“Do you want to go home?”

His eyes were sincere, and once more you were reminded of your father. He would be glad if he knew that somebody else was taking care of you, while he was so far away.

“No, I-“

“Then no, I won’t send you home.”

His answer was clear, left no room for debate, and it felt as if a chain fell off your heart.

“But if you want to go home, then you are free to do so anytime, okay? And if you need an evening off, then just tell me. You have taken so many photos already, we can just use a few of these, and say these were some of our favourite shots so far, or whatever. You don’t need to go into the crowd every night, especially not if this is the result,” he gestured to the two of you sitting on the floor.

You nodded, allowing his words to seep into your mind until you had memorized them. Then you took a deep breath and sighed.

“Shall we go back to the bus,” you asked, getting ready to stand up.

“If you’re up to it,” Lucas agreed, and together you stood up, dusted your trousers off, and headed back to the others, who were already waiting for you.

~*~

The next evening you actually made use of Lucas’ offer and took the night off, sitting on the bus instead, and listening to music. Halfway through the evening the thought, that this was the first concert on this tour you were missing, popped into your head, and fuelled by sudden thirst for adventure, you grabbed your camera and backstage pass, and joined the concert, taking a few pictures of Ryan drumming his soul out, but mainly enjoying the music. Lucas just shot you an understanding smile when he spotted you.

The next stop was Minneapolis. The evening, you had taken off, had showed you that even when you decided to take some personal time, you missed not seeing the shows, not seeing Ryan drum, so you took a nap in the afternoon after you had edited the few pictures you had left to do, to be ready for the show.

Even though you felt tired, yet restless, the music managed to get some energy back into your body, and the crowd, mixed with the upbeat music and the magic of Ryan’s smile, even got you in a really good mood.

The few times you saw Lucas during the evening, he always shot you a smile, and it was obvious he was glad that you were having a great time. But even though you appreciated the attention he directed to you, Ryan’s glances into your direction, and the following smiles, still meant so much more to you, getting your heart beating faster each time, and your cheeks heating up.

Once the concert was over, and everything packed into the bus, Lucas drove everyone back to the hotel where you would stay the next two nights. It was a very nice hotel, one with a big lobby with several sofas and gentle music playing in the background, and a huge aquarium was placed opposite the reception against the wall.

The green and blue room gave you a feeling of having travelled to a mysterious underwater world, especially since it was long dark outside, and the world beyond the windows seemed to have molten away the moment you set foot onto the dark carpet of the lobby.

Lucas, as always checked you in, and handed keys to everyone.

“Hey, would you like to do something before going to bed?”

You had not noticed that Ryan had approached you from behind, so at first you did not understand that he had been talking to you. Ignoring the almost painful beating of your heart in your throat, you shrugged.

“Sure, any suggestions,” you asked.

“Maybe you could show me the pictures you took tonight,” he proposed, nervously rubbing his neck, “and we could get a drink at the bar.”

Your eyes flickered to the room next doors where you spotted a counter with liquors stored in a shelf behind it, and a barkeeper casually crossing his arms while talking to someone you did not see from your spot.

Agreeing, you nodded, causing Ryan to grin brightly.

“Maybe we should get our stuff to our rooms, and then meet back up here,” he suggested, and together you walked to the elevator that took you to the floor where your rooms were situated.

Lisa, who once again you were sharing the room with, was nowhere in sight, so you guessed she was over in Jay’s and Bill’s room, trying to accomplish some progress in making Jay interested in her. Carelessly you threw your night bag onto the bed that was not yet occupied by Lisa’s handbag, grabbed your camera from it, and hurried back down to the lobby.

Ryan was already sitting on one of the soft sofas, his eyes flickering to the elevator when he heard the doors open. A smile lit up his face, and he immediately straightened his posture when he saw you. Scooting aside a little to make space for you to sit down, he looked up at you expectantly.

Suddenly you found yourself worrying where to sit, or rather, how close to sit to him. Maybe he did not want you to sit close to him, but he surely wanted to see the pictures. But if you sat too close, he would definitely feel like his personal space got invaded, and you did not want to make him feel uncomfortable. After a short moment of hesitation you ended up sitting down, a couple of inches between your legs and his.

“So, how have you been,” Ryan asked after a moment of silence.

You sighed quietly, debating how honest you should be with him. In the end, as always, you decided on brutal honesty.

“Honestly, I’ve been really bad these past few days,” you admitted.

Ryan nodded understandingly.

“I noticed that you were quieter than usually,” he mentioned. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

You thought about his question for a moment, then you answered quietly.

“Sometimes just sitting with you and having a conversation, or really just sitting without doing anything makes me feel a lot better,” you told him, earning a soft smile.

“Then let’s do that more often,” he offered, causing you to smile in return.

“Thank you.”

For a moment you were looking into each other’s eyes, and your heart grew all tight from sudden nervousness as Ryan’s eyes shortly flickered to your lips, causing them to tickle strangely.

“Shall we look at the pictures?”

His question interrupted the moment, and you were not certain if you were disappointed or happy about it.

Quickly you pulled the camera into your lap, and turned it on, pressing the button to switch to the gallery. Scrolling back to the first picture that as still saved on the SD-card, you turned on full screen, and tilted the device so Ryan could have a better look.

It felt natural, and yet your heart sped up again, when he scooted closer to you, his leg now pressing against the side of yours, and to get closer, he placed his arm on the backrest behind your shoulders, leaning in so close that his head was almost touching yours. Trying to ignore the distraction of his, by now, familiar scent, the soft tickling of his hair, and the heat that radiated off his body, you started to talk about the pictures you had shot. Carefully you explained why you had taken these specific pictures, what you liked about them, and what you did not like.

Occasionally Ryan let out an agreeing hum, or exclaimed how much he loved certain pictures, his praise sounding real, and he could not manage to hide how impressed he was with your skills.

Halfway through the pictures Lucas passed through the lobby behind your backs. While you shifted a little, worried he might not approve of what he might misunderstand as a romantic get together between Ryan and you, Ryan only wrapped his arm around your shoulder protectively, and complimented the picture you were showing him.

But he had to admit to himself that most of the time he was not even focusing on the pictures. He was far too distracted by the young photographer at his side. He loved the way the dim green and blue light in the lobby painted your profile so mysteriously into the dark room, and how the white light of the display highlighted your features. If he was honest with himself, he would have had to admit that he could get lost in your face the whole day long. Again and again he had to suppress the urge to lift his hand, and gently run the tips of his fingers over your soft looking cheek, or to nuzzle his nose into your neck.

His daydreams were rudely interrupted by the door to the parking lot flying open and crashing into the wall. Both Ryan and you, as well as the hotel employee, turned around alarmed, and watched as Lucas came running into the lobby. The employee had an almost horrified expression on his face as Lucas, today again wearing the two space buns, and beet red in his face, ran over to the counter.

“Call nine eleven,” he demanded, close to hyperventilating. “Call nine elven, our bus has been stolen.”

[red-5]

Cool Silk

Summary: Even death couldn’t rid you of the effects of his spell. It would have been a mercy if he would have just stayed dead.

Pairings: Loki x Asgardian Female Reader

A/N: Medium-well angst served with a light side of Shakespeare in space. Set directly after Ragnarok.

The stars looked so different up-close. Well, you supposed you weren’t really that close, but closer than they had ever been before. You’d flown through the bi-frost to various locations across the realms, but never actually had the chance to admire them as you spun at a dizzying speed through dimensions and astral planes.

It was quiet.

You weren’t really sure what you had expected, but as the Goddess of Music and, as Lady Sif herself had described, a savage hand with a sword, you had grown accustomed to the comforting sound of one object clanging against another. It was a curse that had left your treacherous mind with too much fuel, and it wasn’t long before you could no longer block out the thoughts and memories you had spent years drowning out with song and clash of steel. No one sang as you drifted through the blackness of space, how could they? The salve of your voice and fiddle would be welcome soon enough, but the wound was still too new, too raw. If only you’d known how little time the kingdom of Asgard would remain standing, perhaps you would have walked the halls a little slower, stopped to watch the grand waterfall tumble into the Sea of Space one last time. But, you had been in pain, a pain unlike any you had known, and each golden arch, each sparkling walkway a sharp reminder. Thor had understood your pain, and together you grieved in the comfort of each other’s company. Even though you never got a chance to join the family, that never stopped him from treating you like a sister. Between him and the rest of his Midgardian friends, you had been provided you with plenty of distraction. But now, when your people  needed you most, you were glad to be among them.

Well, most of them.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?”

Oh, that voice. One you hadn’t heard in so long, yet still, your whole body reacted to it like a dog perking its ears as its master walks through the door. Both intoxicating and nauseating, like no matter what you did, no matter how much time passed or how much distance parted you, you were still tangled in the web of his spell. A helpless fly awaiting the fatal bite of the spider.

The things that voice had made you do, made you feel. It was never the matter of simply hearing it. Sweet as honeyed wine as it passed through his lips, it caressed your body like the flutter of cool silk against flushed skin.

Like cold sheets where a warm body ought to be.

His eyes left gooseflesh in their wake as they swept across your body, your nerves prickling with electricity as he slowly sauntered closer until he stood at your shoulder. You tilted your face away from the swirling mass of stars before you just enough to catch his silhouette lingering in the corner of your eye. You’d had years to think of all the things you wished you’d said to him. Years to identify and categorize, practice and rehearse on the faint hope you would one day be reunited in the halls of Valhalla. All of that failed you now. Even if you had the words, they would have turned to bitter ash in your mouth. The silver-tongued prince that he was, he saved you the trouble of speaking first.

“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.”

You wanted to scoff, laugh, scream, something, but his very presence had flung your senses into overdrive. Of course, the first words he would speak to you wouldn’t be his own. He could use his words to charm his way out of a jail cell, barter his way out of execution, corrupt the minds of the galaxy’s most powerful, usurp thrones and topple empires, but he never did quite know what to say when it counted. His tricks no longer worked on you, the sweet timber of his voice no longer as intoxicating as the saccharine honey mead that once aged in ancient barrels below the palace.  You allowed your eyes to drift back to gaze out of the clear glass that stretched along the wall before you, knowing you hadn’t yet built the strength to face him fully.

“Is that why you came?” You spoke out in a clear voice despite the buzzing in your head. “To quote Midgardian poetry?”

You felt him sigh, felt the chill of his gaze slip from your face, felt the thick, heavy silence that fell between you. The seconds that ticked by felt like days. You were desperate to leave, but your feet betrayed you and remained rooted in place. By the time he spoke again it had nearly become unbearable.

“I suppose,” he began, some of the bravado slipping from his voice, but not enough to purge it fully of the shrill formality that clung to each word like morning frost. “I find myself still drawn to your song. A sailor, helpless against the siren- “

“Stop.”

Your voice cracked as you fought get the simple word out, eyelids fluttering shut against the overwhelming surge of emotions so jumbled and distorted it was impossible to tell them all apart. He was watching you again, making the job of regaining a hold on your composure even more of a chore.

“I… “

His voice echoed in the open room, empty, hollow.

“I wanted to give… I wanted you to marry the man you deserved.”

A familiar anger flared low in your stomach, eyes snapping open to glare at the first speck of light they could focus on.

“What you did, you did for your own pride and ambition,” you snarled, voice crackling like flames across tinder. “It’s nothing to say you did any of it for me.”

The crisp wind of his gaze quickly turned to a wintry bite.

“I wanted to be your King!”

The sharp outburst finally sent your eyes flying to his face, the face you never thought you’d see again, the face that once sent your heart bursting with warmth and happiness, and now savagely ripped it in half.

“You already were.”

He recoiled at your whispered confession, steel grey eyes blinking furiously, mouth gaping as his usual ammunition failed him.

“It was never you who wasn’t enough,” you continued, the words flowing from you now that the dam had burst. “I already had what I wanted. You could have been a squire in the palace stables and I would have followed you to the edge of the galaxy if you’d asked me to. But I… “

The lump that rose in your throat strangled your words in your throat. You swallowed, biting the inside of your cheek as the back of your eyes began to burn.

“It was I that couldn’t match up to your vision. I couldn’t be your Queen without a throne.”

He shook his head, raven locks brushing across his shoulders as he stepped closer.

“No, no.”

You gasped softly as his hands slipped into yours, the contact both foreign and all too familiar.

“No, my love. You were my Queen, you are my Queen. And I can be you King again. We can- “

You pulled your fingers from his grasp to press them to his lips, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to stop it from quivering.

“Oh, Loki.”

He would never change.

“This path you walk, you’ve gone too far to turn back, and too far for me to follow.”

You allowed your fingers to slide from the softness of his lips across his porcelain skin, up the sharp ridge of his cheekbone and down the hollow of his cheek to the proud line of his jaw.

Music and mischief. What a pair you would have made.

“The things that could have been, if only you were not you, and I were not me.”

Your eyes lingered on his, your fingertips against his flesh, for just a heartbeat more, turning away before the poorly mended fragments of your own heart shattered once more.

“Doubt thou the stars are fire,” his voice followed, freezing the muscles of your legs and stopping you cold in your tracks. “Doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar. But never doubt I love.”

His ragged breathing filled the silence that followed until he spoke again.

“I never stopped.”

Slowly, you turned, just enough to catch his eyes once more over your shoulder.

“I never stopped loving the boy that chased me through the halls of Asgard and sank to his knees to ask for my hand.”

A sad smile tried to lift the corners of your mouth as the mask of stone he had constructed for himself began to slip.

“And I’ve already mourned his death.”

He didn’t try to stop you as you turned back. His voice didn’t call out again, he attempted no tricks or illusions, but you could still feel the chill of his eyes on your back as your boots thudded down the hall.

@angelaiswriting @wildefire @geeksareunique @youngmoneymilla

[mianite-season-3]

Unofficial Mianite Season 3 - Chapter 10

Chapter 10 - A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

Jordan knew he was dreaming from the moment he opened his eyes and found himself laying on the top of a grassy hill, sunlight streaming with a gentle breeze ruffling the grass and flowers surrounding him.

He sat up, running his hand over the plush grass he’d been napping on. It was extremely soft, the blades knitted together to make a mattress fit for a king. He inspected a budding poppy near his hip, watching in amazement as it bloomed from his touch. A smile crossed his face; this world was so peaceful, a brief respite from the crazy world he would eventually wake up to.

Jordan heard snuffling, and looked over his shoulder to find a family of cows calmly grazing, three adults and a curious calf that caught sight of him and scampered over without fear. He laughed as it nuzzled up to him, curling its tiny body against his tucked legs and nudging his arm, prompting the man to pet it.

Happily, he obliged and found its content lowing almost as cute as little Epsilon had been in Sonja’s lap.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, rubbing the calf’s head until it fell asleep at his side and a curious mother ambled over and gave him a stern eye, warning him to take care of her child, before giving him a huge kiss with a slobbery tongue.

Wiping that away with his sleeve, he slowly removed himself from the calf and stood up. Jordan took in a deep breath of the fresh air and observed all that he could see.

The dream world was beautiful, plain and simple. Ponds and rivers glittered as the sunlight hit the rippling water, tall grass and colorful flowers dotted the landscape, and in the far distance, a picturesque house sitting amidst landscape.

Leaving the family of cows behind, he picked his way down the gentle hill. He took his time, stopping to watch some birds pick at the ground in search of food, or brush his hands over a patch of flowers and seeing them bloom larger than he’d ever seen. Jordan wanted to go to the house, but he felt no rush. Time was slow in this place, meandering along just as he was. He could spend eternity in this paradise, the sun warming his face and the grass tickling his bare feet.

As he approached the house, Jordan realized it was much larger than he had initially thought. It was practically a palace, with spires scraping the sky and a two story high arched doorway with a intricately carved dark oak door.

Awestruck, his feet carried him to the door, knocking on it and wincing at the loud echo that emanated from inside. Hopefully the owner of this mansion would be amicable to visitors.

The lock clicked, and the door slid open without a sound. Nobody greeted him, but as he took a hesitant step inside he heard a faint melody reverberating from somewhere further into the mansion.

“Hello?” Jordan called, deciding to explore when nobody made themselves known. He gasped as he looked up and saw the ceiling three stories above his head, covered in beautiful murals. He walked along the edge of the room, craning his neck to get the best view.  The pictorial images seemed to be telling a story of some kind, with clear figures interacting in the art, but he couldn’t understand what any of it meant. There was a being made out of black and white clay, one of blue, green and yellow, and one of gray, white and gold. From there a being of bright green, who seemed to wither and die within the story.

As the murals wrapped around the other side of the room and he rubbed his neck, one figure in the pictures caught his attention, and he could have sworn the music he’d been hearing swelled and the sound became brighter as he recognized the being.

She was pictured more gorgeous than he thought was possible, radiating ethereal beauty even from the 2D art. His goddess was cloaked in purple and silver with a crown of gold, holding her scales in one hand and a bow in the other. In front of her stood two other beings, one red and black and one white and gold, but she took all of his attention.

The song grew louder, and he tore his eyes away from the murals without looking at the remaining ones. Nothing could top the beauty of Ianite, so why bother?

Instead, he walked to the nearest doorway, heading up a flight of stairs and stepping into a plush sitting room, decorated to his tastes with a wall of glass giving him a view of the garden a story below. The bright sunlight shimmered off the trees and flowers below, tempting him to break the glass and jump into the bushes, sure that they would catch him when he fell.

Jordan shook his head. Where did that thought come from? Even if this was a dream, nothing about the leafy greens below would be enough to keep him from breaking his knees. He backed off, opening another door that lead to another room, larger than the first but in the same theme.

The third and fourth rooms he entered were largely the same, minus the windows as he ventured further into the mansion. He found a kitchen at one point, cabinets stuffed to the brim with food and a batch of warm, freshly baked cookies sitting out on the counter. The smell alone made him swoon, and one bite warmed him to the tips of his fingers and toes and he unintentionally let out a moan of contentment. They were that good.

Swiping a handful of cookies, he continued his exploration, wandering aimlessly until he began hearing the singing again, closer than it had been before. Jordan shoved another cookie into his mouth and followed the song.

It was a woman singing, and as it got louder he continued straining his ears to understand the words until he realized that she wasn’t singing in English. No, the continuous stream of song sounded much more like the chants he would use when performing witchery rituals in Ruxomar, or the whisperings of World Historian. A language lost to humans, with only fragments surviving in the form of magic.

But the singer he was hearing had no trouble with the language, strings of syllables rolling off her tongue like a rushing waterfall, mesmerizing him with her song and compelling him to find her, even if it meant searching the whole mansion.

“Miss? I’m friendly!” He spoke slowly, tiptoeing into another room and seeing a flicker of movement on the other side as someone ducked into the next room. "Wait, please! I'm not going to hurt you!" he promised as he ran after the long haired stranger.

Jordan kept up as long as he could, but the mysterious singer was always just out of his reach, catching only a lock of hair or a flash of purple clothing as she played tag with him inside the huge mansion. If he had been awake, he would have long run out of breath and lost her, but in this dream world his body had infinite amounts of stamina as he kept after her.

Finally, he came into a room that seemingly had no way out of it. No doors or open doorways in sight, but no person either. He cursed under his breath as he considered the real possibility that he had been chasing an illusion, created by his own desire to share this wonderful world with another person. Disappointed, Jordan turned around and went to leave the room when he heard the slightest noise. He stopped, straining his ears to see if it was just another figment of his imagination.

But no, as soon as he stopped he heard it again, just the smallest noise, so faint it was hardly there. A stifled sniffle, coming from the corner of the room, behind a bookshelf.

Jordan took a deep breath. So she was real. He closed the door behind him, not out of malice but only out of curiosity. He didn't want the stranger to run away again.

"Please, I'm not going to hurt you. I only heard your beautiful singing and wanted to meet you. Won't you come out?" He pleaded, running his fingers through his hair when she gave no answer.

"My name is Jordan, but my friends sometimes call me Sparklez. You can call me either, I don't mind."

"Sp-Sparklez..." the woman said, her voice incredibly soft. It filled him with a warm feeling, that lovely voice, fearful though it may be.

"That's right. So, since you know my name, may I know yours?"

"... No."

Jordan's shoulders slumped. She sounded so sure about that, her decisiveness crushed him more than he expected. "But, why not?"

"You're... it. You're not Sparklez."

"Wha... yes I am!" He shouted, immediately regretting it as he heard a tiny yelp and shuffling, as if the woman was trying to make herself disappear into the wall. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell. But I promise, I am Sparklez. Or CaptainSparklez. Or Sparkley-dick, Sparkley-pants, Glitter-lap... really, you can pick. I've been called them all."

Perhaps despite herself, the woman laughed, and Jordan caught just the slightest glimpse of purple hair flicker out from behind her hiding place. He smiled.

"Please, won't you come out? I don't have any weapons."

She went silent, and Jordan took her non response as a no. Sighing, he flopped down on the couch behind him and started munching on one of his cookies, crushed from his chase but otherwise delicious.. "Mmm, these cookies are really good. Will you join me in enjoying them?"

"Don't eat those!" the woman yelled, abandoning her hiding place and rushing out fully into his sight. And that sight dropped his jaw and his cookie, both of which hit the floor.

"My... lady...?" Jordan's eyes widened and filled with tears as he took in the woman in front of him. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. More than she had been the first time he'd seen her, more than she had been when they had spent time together in Ruxomar, more than the day he lost her to the void.

          Ianite's hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back like a gentle river, covering her otherwise bare shoulders. Her dress accented her body perfectly, giving her a figure that was calculated yet effortless. Gold bands were wrapped around her biceps and up from her ankles, and the goddess's hair was held by a golden circlet, set with a flawless amethyst the perfect color to draw attention to her eyes.

And her eyes. As Jordan met them, he was lost in memories of both the world of Mianite and the world of Ruxomar. Happy memories, spending time together and going on lunch dates at the wizard's village. Beholding her for the very first time, when she was nothing more than a mirage appearing in front of him. And of course, the moment that he finally saw her in her true form, physically standing in front of him. After they defeated Dianite, and after they reluctantly killed Captain Capsize. He had taken one look and fell in love all over again. Not any kind of romantic love, no. But the undying love for her as his goddess. The willingness to do anything she asked, the belief that she could do nothing bad, that she would bring balance to a world that teetered on the edge of a knife.

And in that love, in that devotion filled state where his mind perhaps wasn't too clear, he did the only thing that came to him.

He held out his fistful of crushed cookie, offering her the least damaged one. "Want one?"

Jordan expected her to refuse. He expected her to take it. He expected her to stand there, silent. But what he didn't expect was for her to bring her hand down on his, knocking the gooey cookies out of his grip and scattering the crumbs all over the carpet.

He blinked, swallowing his half chewed bite and looking at his hand in disbelief. "Why... did you do that?"

Ianite stepped directly in front of him and grabbed him roughly by the shoulders. "Sparklez, please, you can't eat that! You can't eat anything from this place! In fact, you shouldn't be here at all! Jordan, I beg you, leave this place and never come back! I've been trapped, but if you wake up now you can escape! If you ever find yourself in this monster infested world again, I want you to run away, run as far away from this house as you can. Do you understand me?"

Jordan stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "My lady, what are you talking about? There are no monsters here. Come with me, I'll show you!" He tried to stand up, but his goddess kept him tightly pressed against the couch.

"No! Sparklez, you have to understand, it is not safe here! I have tried to escape so many times, but there is no way to leave!"

"My lady, please, I think you're a little off from running through this house. The world outside is beautiful! The sun is shining, and there was a cute family of cows where I woke up. My lady, I have missed you so much, if I find myself in this place again, I can't not come back and see you! You don't understand... I've missed you... so much."

Ianite's eyes filled with tears, and she lifted one hand off his shoulder to caress his cheek. "I know, my champion. It has been a long time, but until I can find a way to leave here, I cannot see you. If you get stuck here with me... I could not live with myself."

Jordan's lip quivered, and he averted his eyes and stared to the side. "My lady..."

"I can send you away, yes... and you can still escape. You ate, but if you do not come back, it will wear off... Sparklez, give me your word that you will not come back to this place!"

"My lady, I can't--"

"Promise me!"

His eyes filled with tears, and he lowered his head. His hand floated up, taking hers and intertwining their fingers. "I... I..."

"I promise."

Ianite smiled, brushing away her own tears. "Good. Now... go."

And when Jordan raised his head to meet Ianite's eyes, she was gone, and he was left with only an invisible hand in his, and a heavy stone in his heart as he fell into darkness.

--

“...dan. Jordan!”

The man sat up straight in his bed, clothes and sheets drenched in sweat and cheeks stained with tears. Beside him, Tom reeled back to avoid a collision.

“You alright, Sparklez?” he asked, black eyes filled with concern. Jordan shook his head, breath hitching.

“No, I... had a bad dream. I mean, it was good at first. I was in paradise. The world was perfect. But when I went into the mansion, I found Ianite...” He bit his quivering lip, trying to steady his voice enough to continue.

“Wait, you saw Ianite? How could that be a bad thing, if she’s alive?” Tom immediately clamped his mouth shut in horror as Jordan sniffed and tilted his head back to hold another round of tears at bay. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant, you know, if she’s alive in this world, then that’s a good thing, right? Jordan, please, don’t cry!

Jordan took a deep, shuddery breath and pulled himself together, wiping away his tears and tossing his tangled bedclothes to the side. He went to stand up, and realized something was holding him. Or rather, someone.

“Tom, why are you holding my hand?”

The zombie man looked down at their intertwined hands. “You were reaching out and calling for someone. I grabbed it and you calmed down. What, do you not like me holding your hand?” He teased, waggling his eyebrows, a grin breaking out as Jordan smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “Aww, c’mon Jardon, I thought we were together forever! #Team Syndisparklez!”

Jordan rolled his eyes, pulling his hand from his friend and rolling away, ending up in a pile on the floor as he misjudged the size of the bed.

Tom burst out laughing as Jordan scrambled out of the awkward position, brushing off the dirt on his clothes and straightening his collar, trying to salvage some dignity. Yet, the contagious bubbly laughter broke him and he started giggling as well.

“So, Mr. Sparkley Dick, what’s the plan for today?”

Jordan raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you ask for a plan?”

“Since you made me climb this mountain and sleep with a stupid zombie groaning right outside the door, that’s when! You made us come up here so it better be worth it!” Tom whined, only half teasing. Jordan shrugged, pulling his jacket on properly.

“Oh. Well, I thought we could get a good view from up here. Then, we, I don’t know, find something interesting and go from there.”

Tom stared at him from his position on the floor. “That’s it?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s it.”

“Ok, then let’s go!” Tom sprang to his feet, punching out the wool he’d placed in the doorframe and ran out into the light with a whoop, and Jordan heard several mobs meet their end.

As he gathered the items Tom had left in the room, he realized that somehow, his dream that had had him in hysterical tears didn’t seem as bad now. After all, it was just a dream. That was why nothing Ianite had said made sense.

And as much as he wanted to keep his promise to his goddess, even a dream version of her, he couldn’t help but pray to dream of that paradise world the next night.

With those thoughts in mind, he squared his shoulders and followed Tom up the tree, basking in the warm sunlight and ready to face the day.

[disappearingground]

She’s not afraid to make key changes

Los Angeles Times September 24, 2008

Jenny Lewis, 32, involved her family - blood and musical - on her new solo album, "Acid Tongue." 

By Ann Powers

Jenny Lewis no longer calls Silver Lake home, but she hasn’t moved to Laurel Canyon. The woodsy bungalow she shares with her companion and musical collaborator, Johnathan Rice, sits in an obscure corner of the San Fernando Valley, not too far from either of the neighborhoods favored by L.A.'s rock elite, but on its own ground.

“I feel like this is an undiscovered area,” said the 32-year-old singer-songwriter on a recent Friday afternoon.

As Lewis discussed her latest solo album, “Acid Tongue,” out this week on Warner Bros. Records, Rice padded around in his swim trunks, tending to some barbecue. Domestic bliss, interrupted by the occasional interview; such is life for a modestly famous member of the city’s creative class.

“Lewis, is that you squeaking? What is that noise?” Rice called into the room at one point.

“No babe,” she said. “That must have been a bird.”

Lewis is comfortable in undiscovered neighborhoods, off to the side of the action. You hear some cool, weird sounds in places like this.

Fans of well-wrought pop have been following Lewis’ quest for the unexpected since she co-founded Rilo Kiley with Blake Sennett, a former child actor like herself, in 1998. That band was part of a shift in indie music away from heavy, primal rock toward a more eclectic, self-consciously literate sound. Along with allies including Death Cab for Cutie, Bright Eyes and the Decemberists, Rilo Kiley picked up the line that connects J.D. Salinger to Elvis Costello to David Foster Wallace to the guitar-strumming, creative writing undergrads of today.

For Lewis, however, Rilo Kiley isn’t enough. All the members of that now on-again, off-again band have side projects; her solo efforts have found the biggest audience. “Rabbit Fur Coat,” the 2006 album she made with the vocal duo the Watson Twins, was a critical favorite and one of Billboard’s Top 10 Independent Albums of 2006.

Rilo Kiley’s fourth album, last year’s “Under the Blacklight,” wasn’t as well-loved as that release; since then, fans have pondered whether Lewis might leave the band for good.

“We’ll see what kind of songs I’ll write, and that’s going to guide me,” she said. “We don’t hang out as much as we used to, but it’s been that way for a couple of years, Jason [Boesel, Rilo’s drummer] played on my record, and Pierre [de Reeder, bassist] and I did the album art together. So we’re involved in each others’ lives. We’re family, really. And even if we don’t make another record, we’ll still be a family.”

Musicians often naturally move beyond the nuclear unit of a band, but Lewis hasn’t given up on family. Scattered or shattered kinship is a dominant theme in her songs, especially on “Rabbit Fur Coat,” which was partially a meditation on her parents’ broken marriage. “Acid Tongue” forms family in a different way. There are special appearances by her sister, Leslie Lewis, and her father, Eddie Gordon, a harmonica virtuoso who spent much of Lewis’ childhood touring in a group called the Harmonicats.

“The act was very schticky,” Lewis said, smiling.

Lewis had never played music with her dad, but the sessions for “Acid Tongue” provided the right atmosphere. This was due to her other family, the circle of musicians she’s been cultivating for the past 10 years.

“I knew I was surrounded by my friends and that they would treat him with respect, and he’d feel comfortable,” she said. “And it was really lovely having him. He hung out in the studio for a couple of days, and my sister came down and she sang on a couple of songs, which was incredible.”

“Acid Tongue” has an all-star roster -- Elvis Costello, Zooey Deschanel, M. Ward, A Perfect Circle bassist Paz Lenchantin and Chris Robinson of the Black Crowes all participated -- but these better-known names represent just a fraction of Lewis’ crew. Other key players include Rice, who co-wrote several of the new album’s songs; producers Farmer Dave Scher and Jason Lader; and singer-songwriters Benji Hughes and Jonathan Wilson.

Lewis wanted to capture the atmosphere she’d encountered at Wilson’s Laurel Canyon house parties. “We’d go to these jams in the canyon,” she said. “They’re fantastic. Jonathan invites older session musicians from the real Laurel Canyon era, and younger people who are just starting their bands who happen to live in the canyon, and we all get together and sing Grateful Dead covers and J.J. Cale songs.”

She sighed. “ ‘Jam,’ a word I don’t often use. That and ‘gig bag,’ those are the two I try to avoid!”

Her joke exposed a conflict within Lewis, between a longing for the connections artists shared when Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young wandered Laurel Canyon, and her suspicions about the nostalgia that longing represents. The tension, not unrelated to Lewis’ fragmented upbringing, becomes artistically fruitful when she feels safe enough to explore it musically.

“She is the songbird of the scene,” said Wilson, reached by phone in Chicago, where he is touring. “I see her cut loose when she comes over and maybe she does a song that she’s hearing for the first time. I definitely hear it on the album, that sense of freedom. Who better to implement that than her? Because she’s a bird. Not only can she write songs but she’s got the technical thing, it’s just completely effortless.”

“Acid Tongue” abounds with genre experiments that take dangerous turns. “Black Sand” is a “Teen Angel"-style car-crash ballad that substitutes misogynistic murder for the dead man’s curves of the early 1960s. “Fernando” is a rockabilly romp that celebrates Mexican vacationing as a route to oblivion.

The gospel-flavored “Jack Killed Mom” is about, you guessed it, matricide. And in the title track, a country-pop ballad Dolly Parton could have written if she’d gone to Woodstock, Lewis presents herself as a female adventurer whose ultimate prize is exhaustion.

“Everything tends to be a response to the thing that I’ve written before,” Lewis said of her songwriting process. “It’s even as simple as, ‘OK, I’ve written a ballad, now I want to push myself to write something that’s uptempo.’ If I’m writing about myself, well, that subject can be tiresome, so then I focus on character-driven songs. So I’m always doing this back-and-forth just to keep myself interested.”

This drive to try new approaches is a quality Lewis shares with Costello, her onetime admirer (a few years back, he started declaring Lewis his favorite young songwriter) and current occasional collaborator. The alternative rock statesman proves a spirited duet partner on “Carpetbaggers,” a Rice composition on “Acid Tongue.” The session inspired Costello to make his 35th album, “Momofuku,” upon which Lewis and her posse appear.

“On the day we finished my record he booked the studio for about a week and finished what would become ‘Momofuku,’ ” Lewis said. “I was like, ‘I’m backing him?’ I truly can’t believe it. And he’s so cool. He’s a chiller, that’s what we’d say in Southern California.”

Chill is a state Lewis favors these days. She kept the sessions for “Acid Tongue” as open as possible, inviting her friends to drop by and join in on the analog equipment at Sound City Studios in Van Nuys, near where she grew up. Each song was left more or less intact after recording -- no fixing on Pro Tools. This approach was a typical switch for the songwriter, away from the slicker “Under the Blacklight” and toward that more grass-roots feel.

She’s still proud of “Blacklight,” though it divided Rilo Kiley fans. Some questioned the band’s motivations in making a more commercial album. At the time, Lewis favored wearing very short skirts or hotpants onstage; one music journalist, Kate Richardson, created a flow chart of Rilo Kiley’s decline as it correlated to the rise in Lewis’ hemlines.

“Part of her appeal is that she at least used to write these really good, sad, bitter songs that were kinda sharp,” said Richardson, who crafted the chart for Idolator.com. “She had a lot of emotion behind her. But she’s also really hot, really cute. So girls were projecting and guys thought she was really attractive. As she started owning the sexual part of her image more, I thought that was fine, good for her. But it coincidentally went along with a change in their sound.”

Lewis took it in stride. “That’s what you get with a record like ‘Under the Blacklight,’ she said. “I was wearing hot pants and singing about sexuality. Not everyone understood that we were poking fun.”

Lewis said she might be ready for a new persona -- another step in her restless evolution. “It doesn’t really have to do with that response,” she said. “It’s just my own back-and-forth with what I do. So I want to wear hot pants, and then I want to wear cargo pants.”

She laughed. “Now, that would be really flattering.” Some things, perhaps, are best left undiscovered.

[sunthorne]

Ripples

           The dark waters didn't so much as ripple. In the dim light the reflection of his face was a faint ghost on the surface. If he squinted it was like looking down at himself through the waters of the pool, as though he were slowly being dragged under to drown. The thought sent a chill down Ynfial's spine and he blinked, hastily jerking his gaze up, though at the last moment he remembered not to take his eyes from the water entirely.

           "It's not cold." Tel'tharan's voice was quiet and calm.

           The sound of it against the almost oppressive silence still made Ynfial startle. He released an exasperated sigh. "And you are watching me, not the pool."

           "The pool's not doing anything. It never does."

           "If that were true we wouldn't be here." He settled himself back down onto the stone beside it, not quite so close as he had been before.

           "It reacts." Tel'tharan admitted grudgingly. "Nothing comes through it."

           "Something came." He tugged his eyes from the pool to look up at his partner, frowning when he found Tel'tharan's eyes were now pinned on the little fragments of sky that showed through the dense canopy of leaves rather than their charge. "You know it did. They sent Alzerit."

           "It didn't come through here!" Despite the vehement downward jab of his finger that accompanied the words, Tel'tharan's voice was low. "It's out there and we should be out there..." His hand swept. "Hunting it. Not leaving it to the mutt or sitting here and waiting for something that won't happen."

           Ynfial shifted, wrapping an arm around his own bent knee as he watched his partner's pacing. "We should be here. On duty. Even if it is dull." He patted the carved stone beside him. "No one said we had to stand."

           Tel'tharan exhaled a breath that sounded like it had come all the way from his feet, and then slowly sat down, facing him rather than the water. "I actually like it here most nights." He admitted slowly. "It's quiet."

           "It is." Outside the stone room there were a thousand night sounds, crickets, the song of the stream, the distant howl of wolves. But here it was only their breaths and the whisper of the leaves in the canopy of the roof above them. The moonlight found its way through the woven roof above them at intervals, lighting a floor of rune carved dark stone and four strong walls capped by nothing but ancient branches and sky. It shone on the darkness of Tel'tharan's hair and alternately made a mirror or void of the pool.

           His own eyes drifted skyward. "Heard you're training a new horse." He murmured. "Is that what you're so anxious to get back to? Or have you got a sweetheart?" His eyes slid sideways to Tel'tharan, and he could not entirely keep the laughter from coloring his voice as he teased. "Or maybe it's both?"

           Tel'tharan tensed, one hand lifting ready to cuff him.

           A soft chuckle escaped him as he shifted, bracing himself.

           "You little..."

           A soft sound stopped them both mid movement. Such a simple sound, quiet even in the stillness of the space around them. The soft slap of water striking stone. All teasing forgotten, Ynfial's eyes darted to the pool. Ice settled into the pit of his stomach as he watched the water rush back across the surface. There was no mirror now to reflect his own drowning ghost of a face back at him, only a ring of ever growing ripples and the spark and glow of the magic flaring into life above the water.

           "The wards!" He hissed, stumbling to his feet and running for the nearest of the carved stone poles that that marked each cardinal direction. Behind him he could hear Tel'tharan running for another but another sound held his focus far more than the slap of his partner's feet on the stone. The growing laps of tiny waves against the sides of the pool.

           His hand came down on the stone, hard enough to sting his palm. There was comfort in the familiar feel of the stone cold under his hands, the shape of the runes his fingers knew by touch. Ynfial closed his eyes briefly, focusing his will, desperate, as he called the magic to life. Every morning as they all passed, it was done. Hand to the stone, that little rush of will, each adding one more thread of magic to a weave generations old. Every time guard duty began, a touch of spirit, one more thread to the wall they made of their will to protect. And each time the shift ended with nothing but quiet water, that touch made like a benediction, the peace of the time marked by the strengthening of the magic.

           He did not hesitate in calling it to fully awake now, adding one more fear born strand to the blanket of light that sprang to life above the pool. He could feel the hum of Tel'tharan's will amid that light and for just a moment he found peace in the strength of it, the thousands upon thousands of glowing threads their brethren had made. And then as he turned back, the water rippled again.

           It was a wave, rushing outward in all directions from the center, the water breaching the sides of the pool, splashing hard upon the stone. With it came a weight in the air, as though a hundred storms all gathered at once. That weight crackled over his skin like the magic, singing a fierce discordant note across the faint song of the wards.

           He lifted his other hand to the stone too, curling his fingers around the pole, and no longer certain if he was pushing his will into the magic or holding himself up. The waves rushed inward, and for just a moment everything was still. Then water surged again.

           And the wards snapped.

           They broke as though the entire combined strength of those countless tight woven strands had been no more than a single thread of spidersilk. He felt and heard it like thunder in the air, and the darkness in the wake of the magic's light left him blinded for a moment. "Tel'tharan!"

           Across the room he heard a single loud blast of his partner's hunting horn. And then something else far more terrifying, a soft splash and the sound of a footfall on the stone before him. It took seconds to blink his eyes clear of the aftereffects of the broken wards, and make out the figure standing at the edge of the pool.

           There was a strange duality to the man in his sight. To his eyes he might have been a halfbreed of their own people, tall and leanly handsome, long dark hair flowing like silk over red and black armor, his sculpted lips curved up into a smile Ynfiel might almost have called beautiful. But there were knives in that smile, razor-edged and deadly. And his magic sight showed him something else entirely.

           Energy seethed and roiled over the man's skin, crackling and sparking like galaxies of dangerous light, strong enough he could feel it in the air around him, like a breaking storm. Like lightning sparking at his skin.

           This was the monster they were here to stop, and he was more beautiful and far more terrifying than anything Ynfial could ever have imagined. He hurt to look at, and he was too frightening to tear his eyes from.

           He could see a movement at the corner of his eye that was Tel'tharan. It reminded him and he tore his hands from the pillar and reached for his sword. There was a cold comfort in the blade in his hands, the sing of the energy in it against his palm as he drew it. "Two Wolves!" He yelled across the silence and then charged.

           It was a coordinated attack, meant for two and he and Tel'tharan had practiced it until he might have done it with his eyes closed. Until he could move through it despite the fear that made his heart thunder so loudly in his ears. He leapt at the man, blade first and teeth bared, his swing fierce and forceful despite the unsteadiness in his heart. He had braced himself for the impact of it, for the spark of that magic along his blade and the feel of flesh and bone cleaving beneath it.

           But his quarry was simply no longer there. He had leapt too soon or Tel'tharan a breath too late. And the monster had moved. He tried to turn, catching the glint and spark of the demon's magic from the corner of his eyes, tried to correct his swing mid strike. But pain flared at the base of his skull, exploding into white behind his eyes and then falling dark.

***

           It was far from silent when he woke, the air humming with frantic voices that made his head spin. Ynfial opened his eyes cautiously, wincing as the whole world spun a circle beneath him the runes in the circle on the ceiling danced before his gaze. He retched, and paid no mind to the hands that held the basin up for him as he emptied his stomach into it.

           He fell back exhausted, and swallowed repeatedly to try to make the room stop swooping under him. He could feel it rocking even when he closed his eyes again and see the ward breaking over and over in an endless flash behind his eyes. "What happened?" He whispered.

           "We found you beside the pool." Despite the softness of the voice he winced at the way it thundered in his ears. "Did something come through?"

           "Yes..." He swallowed hard. "A monster."

@silver-and-midnight  for Helivant and in response to  http://silver-and-midnight.tumblr.com/post/160257394561/a-reason-to-smile