#the panic when you hear a warlock in the distance drop that beat

[vetalopis]

it's true though. there's nothing like winter's wrath. and i say that as a hunter main

best super sound and why is it Winter's Wrath

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, skylar102!

For @skylar102. I was overjoyed to see your likes included crack fic - which is exactly what I bring you this Christmas. You may recognise the concept and some of the scenes chosen for this fic. What can I say? You’re a very inspiring person!I hope I did the idea justice and that you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3 Much love,Your Secret Santa <3

Read On AO3

*****

Alec Lightwood: The Musical

Rolling drums accompanied him as he ran down the corridor, the sounds of woodwind and strings building as he drew closer to the doorway where he’d heard the commotion. The music drew him in and honed his focus, preparing him for the fight ahead. He strode through the doorway to find an unknown Warlock fending off a Circle member.

The Warlock was tall, almost as tall as Alec. Slender, with figure hugging clothing that hinted at the strong physique beneath. His hair was styled tall and striking, his outfit designed to draw attention. Clearly it was working, as Alec sucked in a shuddering breath. He couldn’t quite explain what he was feeling, but now wasn’t the time to let emotions cloud his judgement.

At that moment, the music broke, a scratching interlude cutting through the air and causing him to wince slightly before giving way to a new song. Alec narrowed his eyes, focussing his stare up at the corner of the room as if he could glare the speakers into submission. As if there were actual speakers there. He sighed and tried to block out the beeping and clapping, focussing instead on the Circle member in front of him.

He scoffed slightly, the arrogant Shadowhunter forgetting all his training in favour of taunting a warlock and not even noticing Alec was there. His limp grip on his seraph blade designed to look intimidating rather than actually being deadly as he waved it mockingly in front of his foe. Holding back an eye roll, Alec raised his bow, taking careful aim and loosing an arrow straight at the man’s heart.

Or he would have had the insipid voice echoing in the room not started moaning in a frankly inappropriate way, distracting him.

You got me trippin', stumblin', flippin', fumblin'

Clumsy 'cause I'm fallin' in love (in love)

This wasn’t a song he knew. Usually, in moments like this, whatever higher power decided to curse him with a personal playlist at least chose swelling instrumentals, epic and strong in their crescendos, that helped him focus on the fight - like the song that had been rudely interrupted by… Well, this. Today, apparently someone wanted to taunt him with the kind of music Izzy liked to dance around her room to.

He snapped back to attention as the Circle member yelled in pain, Alec’s arrow piercing his thigh instead. It wasn’t a lethal shot but at least it was enough to drop him to his knees, clutching the wound in agony and cutting off his frankly tedious monologue.

The warlock conjured a ball of electric blue energy, circling his hands to shape it before pushing it forwards into the rogue Shadowhunter, his shoulders flexing elegantly under the patterned material of his jacket. The circle member collapsed backwards, completely incapacitated or possibly even dead.

“Well done.” Alec almost immediately chastised himself internally for the dumb statement. As if a powerful warlock couldn’t take down a wounded Shadowhunter with ease.

Can't breathe, when you touch my sleeve

Butterflies so crazy, ummm, ummm

Whoa now? Think I'm goin' down

Friends don't know what's with me, mmm, mmm

“More like medium rare,” the Warlock responded, turning to face Alec. “I’m Magnus, I don’t think we've been formally introduced?”

The way Magnus’ body swayed as he made his way over to Alec could only be described as a saunter. Every part of his body moving in sync, like each step forward was part of a carefully choreographed, sensual dance. His warm brown eyes scanning Alec up and down, making Alec’s blood feel like lava coursing through his veins.

“Alec,” he stuttered out, cursing his own ineloquence. “Uh, we, should, uh, really, uh, probably, get, uh, you know.” He knew his face would be plastered with a dopey smile. He tried to focus on the mission, remembering all his Shadowhunter training and not let himself be distracted by how handsome Magnus was.

“We should join the party,” Magnus replied kindly, taking sympathy on Alec’s inarticulate stumbling.

You got me slippin', tumblin', sinkin', fumblin'

Clumsy 'cause I'm fallin' in love (in love)

Songs:

Moscow Symphony Orchestra - The Charge of the Light Brigade

Fergie - Clumsy

II

Alec fought to steady his breathing, schooling his features into as close to a smile as he could manage. This was supposed to be a happy occasion after all, he was marrying a good match. A woman of strong standing with the Clave, a woman who would help him restore his family’s name and lead the New York Institute to greatness.

The delicate instrumental that flowed around him was more sombre than your average wedding choice, but the music that had followed him for as long as he could remember was always in tune to his feelings as well as the wider situation. No one could ever explain where the sounds came from, no one else could hear them but he had his own radio station that followed him everywhere he went.

To his side, Brother Zachariah finished the traditional introduction. ‘No turning back now,’ he thought grimly, dragging in a deep breath. Lydia gripped her stele, reaching out to touch the tip to the ceremonial adamas block with a small smile tracing her lips. A smile that actually managed to reach her eyes. Alec supposed this was less of a compromise for her at least - she wasn’t hiding herself for the sake of a marriage. Objectively, he could see that she was beautiful. The dress hugged her lithe figure perfectly, her hair elegantly braided into an intricate style. But his observation was purely theoretical, based on appearances only with no deeper meaning behind them. It was like observing an exhibition in an art gallery or appreciating the orchestral chords currently filling his ears. He could recognise the grace and the skill, he could appreciate how other people would form a deep emotional connection, but for him it went no deeper than that.

Taking his hand, Lydia brought the glowing tip of the stele to his wrist to trace the wedded union rune when Alec’s head jerked up. At that moment the door slammed open in the distance, causing everyone else to look up in unison. A fraction of a second later, Magnus Bane appeared in the archway, halting in the middle of the aisle that Alec’s bride had not long since walked down.

Simultaneously, the instrumental had come to a stuttering halt only to be replaced by jarring guitar riffs and sirens.

And I'm glad I crashed the wedding

It's better than regretting

I could have been a loser kid

Who ran away and hid

But it's the best thing that I ever did

If Alec jumped in response, it was at least masked by the distraction Magnus Bane had caused.

Magnus held his head high, focussing his gaze on Alec. Alec felt his heart pound in his chest. In his periphery, he heard his mother speak out but her words were lost to the beat of the song filling the room for only his ears. His siblings were having a hushed conversation behind him, but all Alec could focus on was the warlock standing before him. Dressed impeccably as always, his hair swept high with just a hint of magenta glinting in the tips, his eyes lined with his customary makeup. This. This was what Alec was meant to feel when he looked at Lydia. The steady beat of his pulse, sure and certain. The thrum of electricity that vibrated across every inch of his skin. The way his breath caught in his throat. The sheer force of attraction.

His mom was stalking up the aisle towards the warlock, the set of her shoulders displaying just how angry the intrusion had made her. Magnus merely raised his hand, halting her in her lecture and moving further towards Alec. The display of determination and power frayed at the last of Alec’s resolve. Both Jace and Lydia were reaching out to him with words of support and encouragement. Lydia’s smile was wide but no longer touching her eyes as she tried to capture his attention.

“Alec, hey, Alec,” she leaned towards him, trying to angle herself into his eye line causing him to finally look away from Magnus.

“I- I can’t breathe.” He admitted. The bowtie knotted at his throat suddenly felt suffocating to him.

“I know, it’s ok,” she reassured, her voice soft but certain even over the crashing pop-punk that still assaulted his senses.

'Cause true love lasts forever

And now we're back together

As if he never met her

So looking back

I'm glad I crashed the wedding

“I can’t do this,” he admitted. “I thought we were doing the right thing but this isn’t it.” His words came out rushed, his breath constricting in his throat. He tried to keep his panic at bay but he felt trapped, surrounded by his family, his colleagues and clave delegates a like. There were too many people here expecting too much of him but he couldn’t go through with this.

“You don’t have to explain,” Lydia pursed her lips together.

“Lydia I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you deserve to be happy.” She reached out to cup his cheek, reassuring him with a soft smile. “OK? I’ll be fine.”

He could feel guilty about this later, find a way to make it up to her. Even though he knew deep down that he wasn’t just freeing himself from a future that wouldn’t make him happy, he was also freeing her.

He turned and scanned the room before his eyes settled on the one person that truly mattered in this situation, the one person who made whatever battles he was about to face feel manageable. It might be ridiculous, he might barely know Magnus but still, something told him this was a risk worth taking. He stepped down from the altar, putting a physical distance between himself and the ceremony he’d almost gone through with.

Magnus made no move, no indication of his intentions. Alec gulped, realising this was his move to make. He’d pushed the Warlock away so many times, ignoring their obvious chemistry. Now he had to be the one to make the next move.

Resolved, he pushed forward, long strides carrying him swiftly up the aisle. He saw his mom making her way towards him but he brushed past her, focussed only on the man in front of him.

He grabbed Magnus by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him in close and pressed their lips together. Ignoring everyone around him he focussed on this moment, their first kiss. The first of many he hoped. He felt the tension leave his body as Magnus’ lips moved against his. Around him the lyrics continued to echo, cementing in his mind that he’d made the right choice.

'Cause true love lasts forever (true love lasts forever)

Songs:

Chopin - Piano Sonata No. 2 in B Flat Minor

Busted - Crashed the Wedding

III

Alec knew that Max wasn’t the only person he loved who he could lose that day but the relief that his baby brother was alive, talking and already focussed on catching the bad guy was overwhelming. The moment was accentuated by a hum of soft piano music, hopeful notes filled with joy and family and love - a delicate yet mellow melody.

As Magnus made his excuses and turned to leave, the notes of the piano seemed to follow him, an air of yearning filling the room, a cloud threatening to overshadow Alec’s momentary relief. Izzy made eye contact with him, her pointed stare spurring Alec into action. With a sigh, he gave Max one last reassuring pat on the shoulder and followed Magnus from the room.

Magnus was still in the corridor, shoulders slumped and back to Alec. As had happened so often since meeting Magnus, the piano instrumental that had been moving through the day with him stuttered to a stop, almost as if someone had slammed down on the keys. Alec fought back the surprise, knowing that his relationship with Magnus needed to be the priority now. Knowing that he needed to reinforce to Magnus just how much he loved him, how serious he was about their relationship and building a better future for the entire Shadow World.

Magnus knew about his ‘condition’. He’d had no choice but to explain after a particularly ill timed joke from whatever decided his private torture for him. What should have been an intimate and emotional step in their relationship had been interrupted by Alec’s scowl as a crooning voice sang out “let’s get it on,” distracting him from his mission to divest Magnus of his clothes. It had coincided with the reveal of Magnus’ Warlock mark which had obviously not helped the tension in the room at all. Once Alec had explained rather awkwardly, Magnus had been understanding, if a little confused and they had managed to get things back on track. Magnus had even summoned a record player into the bedroom so they could share their first time together, in every way.

But even despite Magnus understanding, Alec was determined to focus on this conversation, determined to right the wrongs. They’d stumbled over communication and he wasn’t going to allow that to continue. He clasped his hands tightly behind his back, standing tall in parade rest trying to focus only on the man in front of him.

Please, tell me everything

That you think that I should know

“Thank you, so much, for being here,” Alec stumbled out. It wasn’t what he had meant to say. But it was still sincere. He still was grateful that despite all the drama surrounding their lives, Magnus was still kind enough to be here, to try to help in whatever way he could.

Magnus’s response was equally sincere, even if it felt like a brush off as he couldn’t meet Alec’s eyes as he wished Max well. As Magnus turned to leave, Alec realised this was his only chance to try to recover whatever they had.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. Blunt and to the point, but again, his tone (he hoped) conveyed the sincerity he felt in every bone in his body. Magnus paused but didn’t turn. Fists clenching by his side, Alec continued “I should have told you about the soul sword.”

It's just for show, isn't it?

It's my fault that it fell apart

The catchy guitar riffs really weren’t helping him concentrate. And the lyrics, the lyrics needled at his every insecurity. By the Angel, if he ever worked out who was responsible for this ‘gift’ as the Silent Brothers put it, he would personally run them through with a seraph blade. Even Raziel himself would feel Alec’s wrath if that’s what it took. He needed the music to shut the hell up. He needed Magnus to turn around and tell him it was OK. He just needed this to be OK. Maybe if he admitted to his mistake, maybe they would have a shot at working it out.

Magnus turned to him though with such hatred in his eyes. He had finally made eye contact at least. Something which felt like it should have been an achievement but there was not even a hint of the love they had shared in those eyes.

Alec reached out, desperate and voice low, “You and me, we always seem to find our way back to each other.” He reached out and gripped at Magnus’ wrist as if hoping that he could push every single ounce of love he felt for Magnus, every bit of his apology, through that single point of contact.

“Magnus, I love you.”

Well, maybe you need this

And I didn't mean to lead you on

The nasally, pre-pubescent voice continued to grate at him even as he desperately declared his love for the man in front of him. Magnus’ expression softened. It was only a slight shift but it brought Alec a brief glint of hope that maybe this could be OK. Magnus reached up and rested his hand on Alec’s cheek, normally a sign of affection. Alec leaned into the touch as Magnus responded in kind, “I love you too.”

You were everything I wanted

But I just can't finish what I've started

There's no room left here on my back

It was damaged long ago

“But…” Magnus continued, grimacing slightly and sucking in a deep breath, “as a leader, there are difficult decisions I must make to ensure the survival of my people.”

Alec shuffled from foot to foot, searching Magnus’ eyes for any sign that he had completely misheard this. Surely the incessant guitar riffs had addled his brain, this couldn’t be happening? Could it?

Though you swear that you are true

I'd still pick my friends over you

“The only thing holding me back from doing that…” Magnus continued, looking down at the floor, “is you.”

“No.” Alec begged, fighting his stoic Shadowhunter nature. This couldn’t be happening. They could make this right. They could make this work. “We can figure this out.” He had complete conviction in that at least.

“You once asked me what I was afraid of,” tears had formed in the corners of Magnus’ eyes as he looked up at Alec. “It’s this.”

Magnus turned sharply and walked towards the elevator leaving Alec alone once more, the lyrics still echoing mockingly through the corridor, for Alec at least.

Though you swear that you are true

I'd still pick my friends over you

Songs:

Jordan Rudess - The Answer Lies Within

Marvin Gaye - Let’s Get It On

New Found Glory - My Friends Over You

IV

Alec paced the ops center, grateful for Izzy and Magnus’ presence even if he still felt entirely helpless. It didn’t help that the demons that had been previously swarming the city had vanished without a trace giving him nothing in New York to distract him.

Sending Jace to Lake Lyn with only Clary for back up had been a truly terrible idea. The distance made the emotions and understanding he could normally get through the parabatai bond fuzzy at best. He knew Jace was feeling unusually stressed, that much at least was evident.

This was slightly concerning for Alec. His parabatai was normally reasonably cool under pressure, thriving on the adrenaline that usually translated to excitement pulsing through the bond. When they went on missions together, Jace’s high energy would counteract Alec’s over-cautious nature, the two of them cancelling out each other’s extreme emotions to neutralise into a collected state of deadly precision.

Whatever was happening at Lake Lyn, clearly it was enough to even rattle Jace. He pushed through the bond further, trying to glean anything more concrete than the tension that currently nudged gently at him. In the background, ominous string music drifted through the room, juddering and foreboding. It was distant enough that it didn’t distract Alec from staring at the comms screen in front of him but it was just alarming enough to have him hovering on the edge of breaking down.

As time progressed his anxiety only grew. He’d ‘opened’ the parabatai bond further than he ever had before, allowing as much reassurance to flow through, but also allowing himself to tug at his parabatai for anything Jace could offer, be it a call for help or reassuring emotions. The more he opened it, the more intense the strings got, increasing in both tempo and volume, like an approaching army ready for battle.

He gripped tight on the edge of the table, the comms room long since empty of anyone but his sister and his ex-boyfriend. He’d snapped at enough of the Shadowhunters on duty that everyone realised it was better to give him a wide berth this evening. There was still no sign of demonic activity in the city and worse, no word from Jace and Clary.

Mmm, what'd you say?

His knees buckled as the voice rang out from nowhere, pain coursing through his body. A white-hot, searing heat emanating from his heart and being pumped through his veins. His parabatai rune pulsed under his flesh, the light graze of his cotton t-shirt feeling like the drag of sandpaper against the sensitive flesh. He pulled his shirt up, watching as the black rune faded to an angry red, then a barely there pink.

Mmm, that you only meant well?

An ethereal voice, distorted and haunting filled the room chilling him to the bone as image after image of his life with Jace flashed in front of his eyes.

The first day they’d met, Alec firing an arrow that just barely missed teenage Jace. The wide eyed stare the blonde boy had given him across the training room was as piercing now as it was when he had first been on the receiving end of it.

Well, of course you did

His arms barely held him up as he scrunched his face up trying to escape both the pain ravaging his body and the onslaught of memories.

Blue flames circled round them, as they gripped each other’s arms, reciting the ceremonial words. Back then Jace had been it for Alec, his entire life wrapped up in what he thought was unrequited love. At the time, Alec had pushed through with the ceremony, despite his doubts, because he thought it was the only way he could ever be close to Jace, the best way to keep Jace by his side. Now he realised, parabatai bond or no, Jace was his brother in all but blood. His teenage crush was just that, a crush. His own confusion around his sexuality manifesting itself against the closest friend he had.

Mmm, what'd you say?

His world was crumbling around him, he felt something solid against his head before his body hit the cool, hard floor.

Jace pulling him tight to him. The soft glow of Magnus’ loft surrounding them. The palpable relief that they’d found his brother, his parabatai, his best friend.

Mmm, that it's all for the best?

Arms cradled him in the present day, against the overwhelming swell of fear and anguish he felt he could almost pretend that this was Jace’s embrace. But he knew the truth. Deep down he knew, Jace was gone.

His breath came in dry, heaving sobs. It took him a few moments to realise that the physical sensations were gone. The pain that he had felt faded to nothing, not even a dull ache that normally followed an iratze. His body felt completely fine. His heart… That was another story.

Lifting his shirt once more, he saw nothing but clear skin where once his parabatai rune had been.

Of course it is

Songs:

Jeff Wayne - War of the Worlds (Instrumental)

Imogen Heap - Hide and Seek

V

Alec fumbled at the buttons of his grey shirt, checking his reflection in the mirror. Normally he wouldn't care about his appearance but today was an important day. He needed to make sure he looked his best for this evening and he had no guarantees that he’d have time after his meetings to come back and change. His movements were accompanied by that annoyingly catchy, synth heavy pop song again. He had to fight not to hum along.

We're no strangers to love

You know the rules and so do I

A full commitment's what I'm thinking of

You wouldn't get this from any other guy

Behind him, Magnus sat propped up in their bed at the Institute. Hair soft and falling gently against his forehead in the morning light. He held the New York Times in front of him, scanning the property listings and reading out anything that could be exciting for them. Planning for their future.

Realistically this should be reassuring to hear, that he wasn’t the only one who was in this for the long haul. But Alec’s insecurities were deep-seated and hard to budge. Yes, Magnus might want to live with him, but to commit to a lifetime together? That was harder to believe.

I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling

Gotta make you understand

He tried his best to hide his nerves and focus on the information his boyfriend was giving him but Magnus knew him too well.

“Alexander?” Magnus asked, voice tinged with concern.

“Yeah, yeah that sounds great.” Truth be told, Alec had no idea what the apartment Magnus had described was like. Or it could have been a townhouse? Possibly an open plan loft come to think of it?

“Is something wrong?”

Only that I want to marry you and there’s this damn song playing on a loop every time I think about it...

At the simple question panic swelled in Alec. Spinning to face Magnus, “What, no. On the contrary, everything is perfect. Now that you’re back to your old self,” he gestured at Magnus. His smile felt anything but genuine and his tone falsely cheery. He bit back a grimace at his terrible acting skills.

“Well, let’s not get carried away,” Magnus murmured, stretching to reach the coffee mug by his side, eyes downcast.

“I just mean now that you're healthy,” Alec clarified, not missing the slight derogatory quirk of Magnus’ eyebrow over the rim of his mug.

We've known each other for so long

Your heart's been aching but

You're too shy to say it

Inside we both know what's been going on

We know the game, and we're gonna play it

“So I was thinking we could have dinner tonight, on the balcony?” He changed the subject rapidly. Spilling out the details of his date night plan before he lost his nerve entirely. “The view of the city, the head chef can prepare something special.” He tugged at the cuff of his shirt, tweaking the folds where it was rolled up against his forearm.

“How romantic,” Magnus looked up at him, a barely there smile on his face but his eyes warm as they met Alec’s, “May I ask as to the occasion?”

Never gonna give you up

Never gonna let you down

Never gonna run around and desert you

“There’s no occasion, I just thought it would be nice,” Alec bluffed.

Magnus merely smiled and looked down at his hands, only a slight quirk to his eyebrow betraying his opinion on the matter.

“What? I can’t do something nice with my boyfriend?” Alec probed.

Never gonna make you cry

Never gonna say goodbye

Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you

“I am one lucky man,” Magnus looked up at him with wide, brown eyes warm with affection.

“Not as lucky as I am,” Alec replied, fighting back the instinctual blush that still threatened to creep up his cheeks whenever he broached conversations of feelings.

“OK, I’ll see you tonight at 8 o’clock,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to Magnus’ cheek before heading for the door.

“I’ll be there with bells on,” Magnus’ answer was almost lost to the pop beats still bouncing around the room and assaulting Alec’s ears as he closed the door behind him.

Song:

Rick Astley - Never Gonna Give You Up

+I

The couple moved slowly together drifting in gentle circles, Magnus’ chin resting gently on Alec’s shoulder, a hand warm on his lower back. Around them, their family and friends watched on as they celebrated the love they shared.

Alec felt elated - just a few short months ago he wouldn’t have believed it was possible to feel this light, to feel this free. In that time he’d met (and now married) the most incredible, magical man; they’d defeated Valentine; brought down the Circle; taken down Asmodeus; defeated Jonathon and Lillith; and somehow made it through it all stronger and happier than ever.

Magnus’ hand tightened slightly at his back, causing him to check in with the Warlock in his arms, “I’m not stepping on your feet am I?”

“How could you be? I’m walking on air.” Alec could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. They’d got so used to the undercurrent of stress that punctuated their lives and somehow managed to bleed into even the most private moments of their relationship at times, the ability to just live in the moment was liberating.

“I’m confused though,” Magnus continued. “I thought we settled on ‘What a wonderful world’ for our first dance. Did you change the music?”

Alec stepped back, not breaking their hold but just positioning himself so he could see Magnus’ face. “You hear it too?”

I want to see that sweet smile

All of the time

And if I get you a drink, oh

You know I'll squeeze your lime

“I don’t even know what this is?” Magnus asked in confusion, tilting his head to listen closer to the strumming of the ukulele and the high pitched lilt of the woman’s voice.

“Neither do I,” Alec said, grinning in spite of the confusion. This had never happened before, not even Jace had ever heard what he heard and they, for all intents and purposes, shared a soul through their parabatai bond. “If you listen carefully, you can still hear our actual wedding song in the background. It just takes some practice to filter through to it,” he explained.

I wanna buy you things

I wanna make you laugh

When there's nowhere to sit

I'll let you sit on my lap

“Is this what it’s like all the time for you?” Magnus murmured as he pulled Alec back close to him.

“Not all the time. Only when you’re around. The rest of the time it tends to be more like elevator music or classical pieces.” The dainty, sweet sounds of the ukulele washed over him as they continued to dance to the song that only they could hear.

Like a cool breeze after a summer day

I see that smile and drift away

Little Mango

Mango my love

“Little Mango?” Magnus repeated, mischief colouring his voice.

Alec groaned and buried his head in the crook of his husband’s neck. “No. Just, no.”

“But surely this is fate’s way of telling me the perfect nickname for you?” Magnus teased back.

“This could actually be worse than pup,” Alec complained, silently cursing the whimsical lyrics for inspiring this. He prayed to Raziel that it wouldn’t stick.

When you take my hand and dance with me

There's nowhere else I'd rather be

Little Mango

Mango my love

In the end though, he wasn’t sure if he could deny his husband anything that brought such a beautiful smile to his face. After everything they’d been through together, Alec would do anything to keep the man by his side happy. Even if that meant succumbing to the nickname ‘Little Mango’.

Song:

Catey Shaw - Mango

[friendlylocalwhumper]

Aaa are you planning on writing a part 2 to your last drabble? A part 3? A potential full arc? I want to see this boy become apart of their family???? I love him already?????

thank you for asking, it gave me the inspiration to write it!

content warning: implied child abuse.

Here he stands, the kid who was getting hurt, the one whose beating Lux could hear from outside the house. He’s got spiky blonde hair brushed forward, eyeliner, punk bracelets. He looks angry, although that might just be how he chooses to present himself. He and Lux are studying each other, Lux’s gaze gentler but no less critical. Emory looks between the two of them and wonders if this is some kind of standoff between survivors. Maybe they’re sizing each other up, looking for strengths to respect and weaknesses to exploit.

“Didn’t need your help,” The kid says - barely younger than the two who rescued him, probably, but seeming so young since he sounded so scared and lives with his dad.

“Sounded like you did,” Lux counters, unflinching. Before it can be taken too harshly, he adds, “I know what it’s like. It’s hard to get out. Just wanted to help, wanted to offer a way out.”

“There’s no way out. And you don’t know anything. You don’t know me. Nothing happened.”

“Then why’d you leave with us if noth-”

Lux takes a step forward to interrupt Emory. “There are welts on your back. They sting, that’s why you’re wearing a loose shirt. You picked a dark one so that if blood seeps through, no one will see it. You can’t see your whole back to check for blood no matter how much you twist in front of the mirror.”

The kid’s cheeks go pink as he startles at the description too raw to be fake. His gaze scans Lux again to linger on the scars visible on the other’s arms. Emory tenses - he knows that Lux wears short sleeves in the hopes that no one will stare openly like this. Lux holds his ground, though.

“What’re those from?” The kid asks, jerking his chin in gesture toward the scars. One of his hands fidgets with the wide-band leather bracelet around his other wrist.

“These ones?” Lux’s finger taps against a few thin, jagged marks along his right forearm. “Some guys after school, long time ago. One of them got a knife for his birthday, wanted to try it out on someone. Got in trouble for bleeding on the carpet when I got home.”

Emory’s eyes widen, but the kid doesn’t show horror at the story. He simply seems to absorb the information as he forms his opinion of Lux.

“...Got in trouble for something like that, once. Bloody nose. Stains.”

“Your dad?”

“Yeah. Yours? That time you got in trouble?”

“Every time I got in trouble. The reason I got in trouble, lotta the time.”

The kid nods again. Lux doesn’t spare a glance for his boyfriend as he waits for the kid to accept the fact that he’s met someone who understands what it’s like.

“What’s your name?”

“Decker.”

“Decker, you don’t deserve what he’s doing. If you’re… if you’ve got - if there’s a part of you that he hates, it’s not something that’s wrong with you. You know that, right?”

The kid, Decker - a name he picked for himself, no doubt, Emory thinks - makes a twisted-up expression. Is he confused? Offended? Defensive?

“A part of me? Whaddya mean?”

Lux looks earnest, concerned. The hairs on Emory’s arms stand up as his boyfriend answers. “It’s fine, it’s just part of you. It’s alright, I have it too, magic doesn’t make y-”

“Magic?” Decker’s face twists into clear disgust now. He takes a step back, angling his body like he’s ready to duck away from an attack. “I don’t - you have magic?”

Emory can see the shock on Lux’s face, the sudden impulse to back away, although he doesn’t retreat yet. “I - I didn’t say - it’s just, when parents - when someone hurts their kid, it’s usually, there’s a lot of - a lot of warlock kids who -”

“I’m not a warlock.” The word is hissed like a rotten, filthy thing. The guy’s hand hovers near the pocket of his jeans. A pocket knife, Lux thinks - or a phone. A phone would be more dangerous than a knife - one slash, or even a stab, would probably be easier to handle than cops rushing to find and capture the warlock they’d been tipped off about.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -”

Decker takes a step forward, and Lux a step back. “That what you meant, saying you know what it’s like? You get hit too, for that? Did you get the belt for using magic? Maybe I don’t deserve it. You do.” Lux flinches at the accusation; he freezes in place when his wrist is grabbed.

“I’m fine, Em,” He says to his boyfriend without breaking eye contact with the kid. There’s some combination of panic and determination in his eyes. Emory tries his best not to grab Decker by one fist in his hair and one twisted in his shirt, tries not to bodily slam the guy away from Lux. This is a fragile situation, teetering on the edge of a steep cliff. Lux needs to decide what to do here.

“You’re disgusting,” Decker snarls. Lux’s face is grim.

“He calls you that, right?” The warlock replies steadily. “Disgusting. Lazy. Weak. Stupid. He calls you those things. They’re not true.”

“Stop talking about him.”

Lux leans closer just slightly and replies with calm finality. “Stop acting like him.”

Decker’s brow twitches, his jaw clenching. His hand is still wrapped around Lux’s wrist. After a tense moment, he drops the warlock’s arm and steps back, looking furious but defeated.

“I want out. I wanna do it alone. If you - if you come near me again, if you tell him I, I saw a warlock and didn’t kill it - you’ll be sorry.”

Lux and Emory drift closer together as they back off, letting the kid stalk back toward the house. They both notice the way Decker walks, like he’s trying not to let his shirt catch and drag along his back, stick to the sore skin and sweat there.

“You okay, Curls? I really thought he’d hurt you. Good for him, just like his dad. Maybe he deserves -”

“He doesn’t.” The warlock turns to walk away. “Nobody does. Besides, he just hasn’t accepted it yet. You don’t know what it’s like, being the thing you get punished for being every day.”

“Being the - but he’s not a warlock!” Emory catches up after waiting for Lux to set the pace, the distance he needs. “He said he’s not.”

“I did too. Always. He’s just scared. That’s why I let him grab me. Even if he hurt me, it wouldn’t be too bad. ‘til you get away, get safe, you’re always just a scared kid. He’s not ready to be understood yet.”

“Not ready… do you think there are more like him? Ones that hurt warlocks, but have magic too, hide it and lie about it?”

“‘course. It’s - it’s not hard to imagine getting shaped into that. How else could they survive? Some of us hide it better than others. And we’re all angry. Bound to happen. It’s not their fault.”

Emory walks beside his boyfriend now, taking his hand. “I think you’re too forgiving sometimes.”

“Mmm. Guess it feels better than the anger.”

[tywriteskpop]

I Trust You (Mark Tuan)-Chapter 1

This is a direct sequel to Trust Me. If you have not yet read it, I recommend you do so before reading this story.

The breeze flowed around you, carrying scents of the forest and its inhabitants. Your senses were alert as you tried to focus, going past the natural sounds and smells. You knew they were there, and you had to find them before they found you. It was predator verses prey.

A twig snapped behind you, making your ears perk up in alert. With your eyes closed, you put all of your faith in your sensitive hearing, listening for more movement. A small breeze whisked past you, ruffling the loose strands of hair falling over your face. For a moment, the only sound you could hear was your soft, leveled breathing.

Then you caught his scent, the musky smell of burnt charcoal and leaves. He was circling you, waiting for you to make a move. But you stilled yourself, trying to concentrate enough to pinpoint his exact location. As he got closer, you caught a whiff of another scent, a faint hint of vanilla permeating the air. He wasn’t alone.

In a snap decision, you spun around and bolted through the trees. Your pursuers followed you quickly, weaving through the trees easily as you tried to lose them in the foliage. But they were fast, and it only took what felt like seconds for your breath to come out in short pants. Your eyes darted rapidly between the trees, looking for something to help you gain the upper hand.

A low hanging branch caught your eye as you got closer to it. You smirked to yourself as an idea popped into your head, and you adjusted your speed accordingly. The pursuers were right behind you now, so you had one chance to make this work. When the branch came within reaching distance, you pushed forward and reached up to grab it. You used your momentum to swing your legs upward, spinning over the branch until you ended up behind the two wolves, landing a kick to each of their backs. They were sent flying forward, groaning as they landed on the ground or in the bushes.

Satisfied, you landed back on your feet, smiling in victory as you fought the urge to laugh at them. But before you could celebrate further, an arm wrapped itself over your throat. You reached up in surprise, but a second hand tightly held onto your left wrist and pulled it behind your back. You tried to pry the arm away with your right hand, but your attempts proved to be weak as the unknown assailant bent your left wrist at a painful angle, pulling it up to leave you immobile.

The stranger’s scent caught in your throat, and you immediately recognized the smell of honey and ash wood. “Fail.” He let you go with a smirk as you stumbled forward.

You turned, rubbing your wrist and giving Jinyoung an annoyed look. “I beat them, didn’t I? How did I fail?”

“You let your guard down,” he explained. “Just because you knocked them to the ground, don’t assume they don’t have backup. Should this have been a real situation, in which you found yourself in danger, you would have been killed as soon as you dropped your defenses.”

You groaned and let your shoulders drop, your head hanging in exhaustion. “I’m getting better, though, right?”

Jinyoung thought for a moment, humming to himself. “Somewhat. You’re learning faster than expected, at least.”

“Maybe next time we should let Jackson and JB teach her how to control her strength.” BamBam walked up to stand beside you with Yugyeom. He was rubbing the back of his neck, his face twisted in pain. “That hurt!”

You covered your mouth with your hand to hide your laughter. “Sorry,” you said. “I’ll try to contain it.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Yugyeom told you encouragingly. “It took me a while.”

“I’m sure she takes pleasure from it,” BamBam grumbled.

While you continued your playful banter with the young wolves, Jinyoung’s attention was elsewhere. He picked up a faint scent, one that seem eerily familiar to him. A scent he hasn’t come across in a long while. His senses were alert as he tried to find the source, the smell growing stronger. He was on edge, and his silence didn’t go unnoticed.

“Jinyoung?” You looked at him with concern. “What’s wrong?”

The other two boys became alert, sensing something was off. A second scent mingled with the first, confusing the wolves greatly. They were similar, but something was strange about the second scent. The two younger wolves couldn’t place it. Jinyoung’s eyes, however, lit up in recognition.

You on the other hand, didn’t understand what had them on edge. The only scents you could pick up were theirs, for you were still adapting to your newfound abilities. You looked around warily, your nervousness beginning to grow at the though of unknown danger. You unconsciously shuffled closer to Jinyoung.

He noticed, of course, sparing you a glance. He saw the anxiousness in your eyes as you tried to locate whatever was around your small huddle. He shared a quick glance with the boys before saying,” Don’t worry. It’s nothing.” He knew he was lying to you. But he didn’t want to cause you a panic when you were still getting used to your new life. “We should get back,” he continued. “Mark will be looking for you.”

~~~

“I don’t care what your excuses are,” Mark snapped. “Get back out there and cover patrol. Now!” His voiced boomed with authority, tense pressure weighing heavily on his shoulders. The hard glare that glowered on the unfortunate underling before him made the man feel insignificant, hanging his head low with regret.

“Yes, Alpha.” The omega never raised his eyes as he backed away and left the room, followed by two others to rush out to the border.

Mark huffed angrily and closed his eyes, sinking into his chair and rubbing his face with anguish. “Remind me to properly deal with him at some point.”

Jaebum sighed and folded his arms. “I know punishment isn’t your thing, but this is serious. He left his post, and now one of our own is missing.”

“Right now we just need to focus on finding him and getting him back safely.” Mark shifted his attention to the wolf sitting on the long sofa in the center of the study. “You said there were more scents. Did you recognize them?”

Jackson had been silent throughout the entire ordeal with the foolish omega, lost deep in thought as he continued to conjure up other possible scenarios of how this situation could have been avoided. A part of him blamed himself. He felt like he should have returned quicker. He volunteered for the mission, he should have carried it out swiftly.

“Jackson?” Mark eyed his friend worriedly. He knew of his habit to take everything to heart, as strong as he was. “You know this isn’t your fault, right?”

It was like the younger wolf hadn’t heard him, too far gone in his despair. Only when he heard thundering footsteps and laughter did he jump out of his reverie. Jackson quickly got to his feet and watched nervously as you and the youngest wolves entered the office. The three of you stopped at the dark feeling in the room, the smiles on your faces dropping into deep frowns.

You walked over to your mate warily and stood beside him. “Mark. What’s going on?” You looked around and met Jackson’s uneasy gaze before he looked away, ashamed. “Did something happen?”

No one said anything. Jaebum cleared his throat. “Where’s Jinyoung?”

“He got stopped on the way in,” Yugyeom answered. “Something important, I think.”

“Don’t change the subject,” you snapped, your voice a sharp whisper of nerves. Your gaze flitted between each face in the room. “Where’s Youngjae?”

Mark stood up and tried to take you into his arms. “Y/N-”

“Don’t belittle me, Mark,” you said. Your breath came out in short pants now, the dreadful feeling of something horrible happening to Youngjae overwhelming you. “Where is he?”

“We don’t know.” Your attention shifted to Jackson, who refused to meet your eyes as he shuffled on his feet, fists clenched at his sides. “He was gone before I returned.”

BamBam’s eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. “You didn’t catch his scent?”

Jackson shook his head with a heavy sigh. “There were too many scents on top of his. I couldn’t get his alone. It’s like they purposely masked him.”

“What are you saying?” you asked. Your voice fluctuated between calm and panic, your tone uneasy. “He went to the border to meet you less than an hour ago. How could he be missing?!”

Jackson swallowed, his eyes nervously scanning the room for any valid response. But he knew you wouldn’t be satisfied until Youngjae was safely back home. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his words muttered under his breath.

Mark sensed your rising anxiety, quickly coming to your side and holding onto you. You weren’t sure if he meant to catch you if you fell or to keep you from attacking Jackson. But you were grateful either way, not wanting to lose control so easily. His touch comforted you, but your nerves made you feel dizzy. Youngjae couldn’t have just disappeared, not so suddenly.

Jinyoung’s footsteps echoed from the hallway as he rushed into the room. “We have another problem.”

Mark’s grip tightened on you, this time more to control his own anxiety. “What is it?”

“Vampires.”

The single word made your blood run cold, your stomach churning, and you felt like you were going to be sick. “Of course,” you muttered to yourself in a nervous panic. “Werewolves exist. Why wouldn’t vampires? Just introduce me to a freaking warlock next time.”

“They’re breaching our borders,” Jinyoung continued. “Earlier during our training, they were close. In our territory.”

A spark of realization came to you as you remembered the cautious state the wolves were in during your time in the forest. “Is this about the scent you guys picked up before?”

“It was strange,” BamBam said, folding his arms. “I’ve never smelled anything like it before. It smelled like…”

You waited with bated breath as BamBam trailed off, but the youngest blurted out the final word for him. “Death.” Yugyeom rubbed the back of his head in exasperation, not knowing how to handle this situation. He sat on the couch across from Jackson, waiting for his elders to give out the orders he so desperately needed to feel useful.

Jackson gulped, shooting Mark a wary glance. “The scents that overpowered Youngjae’s…” he began, watching your reaction carefully. You held your tongue, allowing him to continue. “I couldn’t make them out. Except one. It overwhelmed all of the other scents.” He sat down in his set once again, rubbing his face tiredly. “Blood.”

Your mind whirled into a frenzy, imagining every possibility of what could have happened to Youngjae. On the suggestion that your beloved cousin was taken by vampires, you felt your heart stop. “I think I’m going to be sick,” you whimpered out. Mark held you close, letting you lean against him as you felt your body start to shut down from the shock. “Why did they take him? What do they want with him?”

“I think we should be more worried about where they took him,” Jaebum decided. “We’ve no idea what they could be doing to him right now. Vampires and Wolfkin do not have a great relationship.”

“Silence, JB,” Mark ordered, feeling your body trembling in his hold. Our eyes were red with unshed tears as your fear for your family began to overcome you. “We’ll find him. Alive.”

The firm tone in your mate’s voice calmed you, holding onto your belief that Youngjae will be safe back home sooner rather than later. But it didn’t go unnoticed by the other wolves at their Alpha’s choice of words. They had the hope they would find their brother alive, but there was no promise of retrieving him unharmed.

“There’s something else.” Jinyoung’s voice cut through the tension once more. He lifted a black envelope, laced with dark purple ruffles. “This was left on our doorstep today.” He handed it to you, allowing you to unfold the contents inside.

There was a small card inside, the cardstock jet black just as the envelope, white lettering scribbled across in neat handwriting.

You Are Cordially Invited

This Card Is Your Ticket In

Don’t Lose It

“What the hell is this?” Mark asked, reading it over your shoulder. “An invitation?”

“Some kind of party, it seems,” Jinyoung replied. “There’s an address on the back. It’s in the city, at an abandoned building.”

“Why would those bloodsuckers invite us to their freakshow?” BamBam asked.

“Especially after taking one of our own,” Yugyeom added. “Are they taunting us?”

Jaebum took the card to examine it. “If they are, it’s a very tempting trap.” He looked at Mark. “You have a decision to make, Alpha.”

It only took one final glance at your distressed face to solidify his decision. “We’re going. A few of us. Less we risk, easier it’ll be to get him out. Get ready.” He took the card once more. “We have a long night ahead of us.”

~~~

You slammed your hands on the desk. “I’m going, and you can’t stop me.” Your voice was laced with authority, albeit speaking out to your Alpha and mate could be considered foolish. The other wolves had gone, leaving you and Mark alone in the study.

Mark groaned from annoyance, rubbing his temples to relieve the tension causing his headache. “Y/N, baby, I love you, but you’re being stupid.”

You tilted your head, refusing to back down. “Mark, baby, I love you, but you’re being stubborn.”

“If being stubborn makes sure you’re safe, then you’re damn right. I’m stubborn.” He exhaled through his nose before relaxing, lowering his tone. “You’re not ready to face off against these creatures. You’ve been a part of the pack for only six months. You’re still in training. Hell, we’ve never even had experience fighting these bloodsuckers. If we can’t handle ourselves against them, what makes you think you will?”

“Because we’re a team and if you go, I go,” you shot back. He remained silent, sparing you a soft gaze that only held pure adoration for you. You softened your own tone and circled around, standing beside where he sat in his chair. “The risk of losing all of you is too much. I have to go.”

Lacing your fingers with his, you felt him squeeze your hand in content. “Alright. But stay by my side.”

You smiled gently. “Always.”

[moonylady]

kiss me with rain on your eyelashes

this fic was inspired by this lovely drawing by @mundanelion ♥ thank you so much for this beautiful piece and for letting me use it as my muse!

this is a mix of show!canon and book!canon when it comes to magnus’ past

tw: non-graphic description of drowning, past trauma

(thank you to my wonderful beta @magnusragnor who, as always, did an amazing job and put up with my anxious self. i love you)

He should have known from the moment he woke up to the sound of Alec moving around the dark room, stubbing his toe against the dresser and muttering curses under his breath, that this wasn’t going to be the best day. The fact that it was still dark and Alec wasn’t laying in bed, under the warm sheets and and wrapped around Magnus should have been a clue.

“Alexander?” he murmured sleepily.

Through half lidded eyes he saw Alec freeze, his silhouette framed by the city lights filtering through the gap in the curtains they forgot to close the night before, a thin ray of ghostly white breaking through the shadows.

“Hey. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Alec said in a low voice, approaching the bed and perching on the edge. “A team just got back from patrolling and they’re insisting on giving their report directly to me. I need to go, Izzy said it looks like it’s important.”

Magnus wasn't a heavy sleeper. His work didn’t always have the most normal schedule and while he could control the time he met his clients, emergencies happened at any hour. Leaving the comfort of his bed in the middle of the night because of some attack or weird magical occurrence wasn’t as strange of a concept as he would have liked.

So him sleeping through Alec receiving a message, getting out of bed, and wandering his way around the room for long enough to get mostly dressed, was very telling. It was sign of how safe and comfortable Magnus felt in his presence that his body didn’t go into alert mode at this kind of disturbance. That notion was enough to soften the furrow of his brow, if not his pout, at the realization that Alec was leaving at four in the morning.

Heaving a sigh, Magnus intensified his pout just because he could.

“You’ll let me know if it’s something serious, right?”

Alec’s gaze softened, features clearer now that he was closer, his hand running through Magnus’ hair, pushing the dark strands away from his face. “Of course.”

He kissed Magnus forehead, lingering for a second before retreating. While that was lovely and made Magnus heart flutter in his chest, if he was being denied morning cuddles, he was going to need something more to keep with him during the day.

He lifted his chin and Alec got the message, leaning down again and kissing him. It was sweet and languid, the delicate caress of butterfly wings with a slight current of electricity underneath.

“Go back to sleep,” Alec whispered against his lips before pecking them one last time.

He got up, grabbing his jacket from a chair. Before he could leave the room, Magnus snapped his fingers and conjured a portal for him. With one last grateful look over his shoulder, Alec stepped into the portal and out of the loft.

Half an hour later of tossing and turning, Magnus phone lit up with a message from Alec. Apparently the very important thing the team had to report was that they had found a shax demon nest in Queens. Magnus could picture Alec rolling his eyes. That wasn’t particularly urgent or even unheard of, not to mention that Jace and Izzy could have handled that without him perfectly.

If new recruits didn’t kill Alexander, then they will certainly kill Magnus. Or the other way around, Magnus wasn’t sure yet.

Realizing that going back to sleep was a pointless endeavour, Magnus got up and started the day. It only went downhill from there.

First, he was in a meeting all morning with the High Warlock of Oslo, who wanted to consult something with him. That in itself didn’t sound bad, but the man was grouchy and impatient, refusing to explain the situation to Magnus in detail, but still expecting him to solve the problem.

After that, he spent the afternoon meeting clients. The last one was a mundane with the sight but no much contact with the shadow world, and while she was nice and offered him some very delicious cookies, she gave Magnus the impression that she paid for their meeting more for the experience of knowing a warlock and watching him work than because she truly needed his services, since she couldn’t decide on what she wanted and kept changing her requests. No matter how good the pay, and the pink sapphire she paid him with was incredibly beautiful and valuable, he was too powerful to be putting on this kind of show. The time for him to prove himself passed centuries ago.

Needless to say, when he left to go home, he was exhausted and in a bad mood. Adjusting his coat to protect himself against the crisp autumn air, he decided to walk home instead of using a portal since he wasn’t far. Gray clouds that had been present all day were moving lazily in night sky, the stars hidden behind them.

It wasn’t until he was almost at Nightingale Towers that it started raining, but even then Magnus didn’t hurry his steps. He had always liked rain and the light drops falling weren’t enough to bother him.

When he finally got into his loft and closed the door behind him, Magnus released a heavy sigh. It had been a long day, time passing slowly and weighing on his shoulders.

He disposed of his damp coat and started walking towards the bedroom, turning on the lights and putting the kettle on the stove with a tired twist of his wrist.

He took off the rest of his clothes and threw them over a chair, erasing all signs of water from his body and hair with a snap of his fingers. He grabbed a black sweater with red flame designs, light but cozy, along with some black jeans from his closet and didn’t bother with shoes. The cold floor felt good against his feet when he walked to the kitchen, kettle whistling while he picked a bag of chai tea from the cabinet.

There was comfort in doing this manually instead of just summoning it from any café in the city. Watching the steam ascend when he poured the boiling water in the cup, feeling it warm the air around him. His rings clinked against the ceramic when he picked the mug, the light echo of it sounding louder than it really was in the empty apartment.

He intended to go to the couch, settle there with a blanket and a book until Alec got home, but his feet took him to the window the moment he caught the sight outside. The dark clouds were thicker now, rain falling heavier, distorting the view and cloaking everything with a grey hue.

The last time he had stood in front of this window while rain hit the glass, he had been pondering a choice that he never had to make.

He could discern the Brooklyn Bridge, the red and yellow lights of the cars crossing it looking like blurry dots in the distance, the East River a dark mass under it. He was too far away to see the rippling effect of the raindrops hitting the surface, but he swore he could almost hear the steady cadence of rain impacting water.

There was a time when the sight of large bodies of water made Magnus uncomfortable, nervous even. Not because it reminded him of drowning, but because it brought up images of fire.

It reminded him of a kid running through the rural paths of a place that once was called Batavia, water soaking his clothes and and wet hair falling in his eyes, breaths coming too short, hot air and the dust his steps lifted burning his lungs. His legs were tired and aching, muscles cramping with every step, but the boy couldn’t stop, wanting to put as much distance as he could between him and the lake, desperate to reach a place where he could escape the pile of ashes that had once been his father ― stepfather.

But no matter how fast or how far he ran, he could still see red and orange out of the corner of his eye, feel the heat of the flames licking at his face and smell the rotten scent of burning flesh. The screams were the worst, anguished but hateful to the end, reverberating in his ears louder than the rapid beating of his heart.

He had not lied to Alec when he said he knew how to control his powers back then. He had been practicing, playing with his magic from the moment he discovered it. Before his mother killed herself he had never been afraid of it, of what it could do. It had been a source of endless wonder, a light in the silence of night. Never a cause of harm. After what happened, however, it felt tainted. He felt tainted.

But that control, as impressive as it was for an untrained child, didn’t extend to his fears. The panic and adrenaline running through his body directed his every movement, from his first frenzied attempts to get away from the hands pushing his head deep into the water, one in his hair, one in his neck, hold tight and unforgiving; to the tremor of his hands still present hours later, visible every time he brought them up to wipe the tears from his cheeks, tendrils of red dancing uneasily between his fingers ―magic still near the surface, hot and ready to lash out at any sign of threat.

Abomination.

Lightning illuminated the sky, painting everything in shocking white for a second, pulling Magnus from his thoughts. He hummed, bringing the cup to his lips and counting the seconds in his head until thunder roared. Fourteen seconds. Two point eight miles. That wasn’t too far.

Holding the cup with both hands against his chest, he closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall next to window. Taking a deep breath, he savored the mixed scent of rain and the spices from the tea, letting it settle in his bones. He felt tired and restless at the same time, like the sea before a storm, strong gusts of wind over the surface and too many undercurrents pulling in different directions in the depths. The sound of the raindrops hitting the window was helping him calm down, washing away all the anxious energy. He could feel his shoulders loosening and his back relaxing, a tensed bow string put to rest, even as his hands gripped the cup more firmly.

He could feel the warmth emanating from the cup and seeping into his hands, but also radiating from his insides, spreading from his stomach and chest after the sip he took. 

Warmth was the first sensation he ever associated with his magic, not only in a physical way, that tingling humming feeling in his hands when light surrounded them, but also in his soul. Discovering his powers was like drinking wine after only knowing water all your life, not necessary to live, but so much richer, an explosion of color, infinite layers of taste in your mouth, a delicious buzz in your head.

It felt natural to call that power into existence, give it physical form.

For a short while that feeling was shrouded in childish innocence, the lights in his hands felt like bliss and tasted like freedom. But life had always been quick, and merciless, when it came to teaching Magnus. He soon learned that his magic was something much more visceral than that, pulsing and alive. Something that originated somewhere in his belly instead of his chest, hungry and demanding, but also soothing and consoling. Sometimes roaring, sometimes purring. Monster.

Magnus Bane was the name the silent brothers in Madrid had given him. Great destruction. He supposed it made sense, especially back then. When he arrived in Spain there was no trace of innocence left in him, mind already hardened against a world that seemed set on hurting him, even if his heart was still a tender bleeding thing. Not that he could ever change that.

Full of loneliness and bitterness no one so young should possess, Magnus knew he was dangerous. He never attacked anyone. After what happened with his stepfather he was careful with his magic, so careful, wary of the hunger he could feel swelling inside of him when he felt too much. And he always felt too much. But the power was there, at tip of his fingers, swirling inside him. Magnus was an angry scared young boy, rabbit heart and tiger claws, a force of nature. The name suited him.

Even then, it took him a while to make it his own. To see beyond it, to recognize the potential to do more than cause havoc and raise hell despite his past. Oh, he could do that, and did it whenever the need presented itself, making sure that everybody was aware of his power ― let others fear it the way he had feared it once. But he was also more than that: he could heal, he could create, he could protect. His magic brought almost endless possibilities, limiting himself would have been foolish.

The sound of a door closing brought Magnus out of his reverie. He opened his eyes slowly, the world turning into focus gradually; outside the loft the rain have evolved to a full raging storm, and the warmth between his hands had vanished, cold ceramic in its stead. But everything faded into the background again when he turned around to the sound of approaching steps. He was greeted by the sight of Alec entering the living room, light from the chandelier reflecting off the beads of water falling from the ends of his hair and travelling across his face and neck, wet clothes dripping on the floor.

He was looking directly at Magnus, sheepish expression painted on his face, and a happy smile blooming on his lips. Breath catching slightly on his throat Magnus wondered if he would ever get over the way Alec looked at him sometimes, as if the weight on his shoulders seemed to lighten up the moment he caught sight of Magnus. Here he was, looking like a very handsome drowned rat, with all reasons to be frustrated and annoyed, but instead he was smiling, looking like Magnus was the most precious thing he had ever seen, like Magnus was a star, bright and burning, a cosmic phenomenon, the only light in this storm.

They’re beautiful, Magnus. You’re beautiful.

Magnus found himself returning the smile. His feet started moving even before he thought about it, taking him closer to Alec since he apparently wasn’t advancing more into the room due to his drenched clothes. As if Magnus cared about the floor when he could be kissing his boyfriend.

He left the cup of now cold and undrinkable tea in the first table he passed. Once they were close enough, they both leaned forward at the same time. Alec’s lips were cold against Magnus’, the feel and taste of them filling Magnus with warmth despite it. He heard Alec release a sound of contentment and smiled into the kiss.

“You should’ve called me. I would have made a portal for you,” he said, leaning back just enough that he could look at Alec.

“The rain wasn’t this bad when I got out of the Institute,” Alec responded with a shrug.

Magnus arched an eyebrow at him. He knew why Alec hadn't called. Yes, he had been visiting clients and working all day, but nothing strenuous enough to cause magic depletion, his boyfriend worried too much. Not that Magnus could fault him for being considerate.

He rolled his eyes anyway, but didn’t even try to prevent the fondness from infusing his voice. “You’re silly.”

Alec nodded distractedly, gaze directed at Magnus lips, before capturing them in a kiss again. He brought one of his hands around Magnus waist, pulling him closer until their chests were pressed together, the other at Magnus neck, thumb caressing his jaw and tilting Magnus head to deepen the kiss. Magnus closed his eyes and let himself be swept under the tide of emotions that kissing Alec always caused.

The rain and the tea had helped him relax, but it wasn't until he found himself in Alec’s arms, surrounded by the earthy of smell of rain and the lasts remnants of Alec’s aftershave, that he truly felt his muscles unlock. Alec smelled like the first rays of sun hitting the dewy grass, like wet sand moving under your feet when the waves receded from the shore, like a lullaby sung by a voice long forgotten. Alec smelled like home.

With that thought Magnus gasped a little, breaking the kiss but not pushing away, foreheads pressed together and panting breaths mingling. When was the last time that someone could unravel him with just a kiss, that someone had touched him and reached a part of him other than his body.

He had never met someone like Alec, who saw all of him and reacted with wonder and tenderness, who learned his past and felt no pity and not fear, that was horrified not of Magnus but for him. Who got to knew him and still wanted him. That was why it had been so easy to close himself off after Camille, to believe that he would never have this so it was okay to stop trying. He had always been so good at breaking his own heart, it was time he started protecting it. It was also why he had found Alec so enticing from the beginning, with his pretty face and even more beautiful soul, so much hiding under the façade of the perfect soldier. Without even trying Alec had disarmed him, ignited a spark within him he thought extinct and, hopeful fool that he was, Magnus let himself fall, let himself fight for this. And, for the first time, it hadn’t exploded in his face. It had brought him here, to this cold stormy night that couldn’t compete with the warmth in the eyes looking at him.

There’s nothing ugly about you.

“I missed you today,” Alec said, not letting go of Magnus.

Alec claimed to not be good with words, yet he always managed to leave Magnus breathless every time he made a statement like that ― wide eyes, conviction clear on his expression, blunt and painfully sincere. It had always been extraordinary for Magnus how Alec had learned from a young age to hide, to guard himself, but how he also weared his heart in his sleeve, always shining through when he was with those he loved, present in his kind nature and caring disposition. Protected yet so exposed at the same time.

He knew how easily hearts could shatter. Alec’s faith in him, to not break his, to keep it safe, humbled and scared Magnus. But that was the thing about Alec, he made Magnus want to try, to be better than before, for himself and for them. He gave him hope. If his sins were marked by a red curved blade and tasted like ashes, Alec’s love felt like rain, refreshing and all encompassing, with the promise of the sun and life at the end.

“I missed you too, darling,” Magnus responded, fingers playing with collar of Alec’s jacket, voice low.

“Sorry. About your clothes.”

Magnus frowned in confusion and looked down at himself. Sure enough, his sweater and pants were wet from where they were touching Alec’s.

“Oh, what a tragedy. Guess I’ll have to take them off,” Magnus exclaimed, feigning despair and looking up to Alec with a glint in his eyes.

“Yeah?” Alec responded with a mischievous smile. “You should take a shower too, we wouldn’t want you to get sick.”

“Sounds like a great idea,” Magnus murmured before kissing Alec again,starting to push him in the direction of the bathroom.

“I was thinking we could make pancakes for dinner,” Alec said between kisses down Magnus neck.

Magnus paused, blinking a few times at the out of the blue comment. His hands stopping trying to take off Alec’s jacket, not that he was making much progress with how the fabric was sticking to the shirt underneath. Once the words registered, he laughed happily, throwing his head back; Alec had quite the sweet tooth despite taking his coffee as black as his clothes.

Magnus hummed, in acquaintance and because his boyfriend had taken advantage of his exposed neck. “I’ll even throw in hot chocolate.”

Alec groaned loudly, looking up and locking their lips in a searing kiss, his subtle stubble rasping against Magnus mouth. Magnus should be amused at so much enthusiasm at the mention of chocolate but right now his only concern was reaching the shower.  

For so long Magnus had felt like he had never stopped running after that day in Batavia, no direction and a muffled purpose, afraid to look back and terrified to look forward, for what fate could await someone like him. But now, every time he thought of the future all he could feel was a hand holding his, a whispered promise bathed in shades of hazel.

[404botnotfound]

The Line [3]

…and where to draw it.

SERIES: Destiny WORD COUNT: 6,335 SHIP: Quinn/Drifter CHARACTERS: quinn leonis (AU), glyph, ash, finn, adebole, the drifter

iii. learning curve

n. the rate at which something can be learned, or the degree of difficulty in learning something.

The deck is utterly silent when Glyph transmats her down to it.

The air around her is still; the only sound she can hear is the creak of heated metal from her ship as it slowly cools and the occasional soft whisper of displaced air from whatever oxygen filters the larger ship uses.

With how beat up and old the ship looked on the outside she’s thankful the air even works--it would’ve been pretty damn embarrassing for Glyph to need to transmat her right back into her ship because she hadn’t thought to ask if there was atmosphere. She’s used to relying on her fireteam leader letting her know whether her typical avoidance of helmets would fly.

Luke called it her ‘allergy’. She called it ‘not liking to feel encased.’

Habit or not, forgetting to ask if she would be able to breathe upon leaving her ship wasn’t a lapse she would’ve made if she were running on all cylinders; she needed to get some decent sleep soon.

There are two ships docked to the left of hers, both devoid of any signatures within as per Glyph’s deduction; the ship to her left was specific to New Monarchy’s development line. Her eyebrows drop lower over her eyes in distaste.

There was always room for exceptions, but she doesn’t hold out hope that she’s not going to be dealing with a prick in the very near future.

Directly in front of the line of docked ships is an open platform with a set of triangular, dimly glowing pads, penned in by a glass barrier. She steps out onto the platform until she’s in front of the barrier, noting first that the bay the platform is in is much longer than it was wide, stretching a hundred yards into the distance to her left.

She’d almost think it looked like some kind of docking bay in and of itself, but with a glance behind her at the line of ships she lifts an eyebrow and wonders why it’s so empty save for the platform.

Across the bay from the platform she’s on is another one, identically penned in and featuring the same four glowing pads. If she squints she can just barely see the outlines of more ships beyond that other platform; definitely a four-versus-four setup, if all eight guardians present were divided to both sides of the ship.

Illumination finally draws her eyes to the left where another raised platform stands, almost resembling a podium and lifted above the other two in the bay. It’s connected to either side of the bay by a set of bulkheads.

And the illumination is coming from--

--gooseflesh ripples violently over her skin and she sucks in a startled gasp of air at the sight of what stands beyond the podium. It’s some kind of tank or enclosure, but what’s within is what leaves her cold and filled with terror.

Twisting forms of viscous, liquid-like darkness curls and writhes behind the glass, contrasting with the brightness of the glowing energy. The all-too-familiar contradiction of the paracausal and eldritch power of the Ascendant Plane, wielded by the Taken King to twist beings to his bidding.

And it was trapped within a tank like a spectacle in a zoo.

Flashes of a nightmarish, blackened landscape of endless gales and primal roars rush through her mind as she stares, unable to tear her eyes away for fear that the power she looks upon would reach out and rip her to shreds.

‘Breathe, guardian.’ Glyph says, the chirp in her head snapping her back to reality and allowing her to finally drop her eyes to the deck below her feet.

She lets out a shaky breath and closes her eyes, blocking out the blinding darkness and forcing her focus inwards until the sharp edge of panic ebbs and her breathing slows to normal. It’s been years since that botched mission on the Dreadnaught that killed Gil, and yet…

If only Eris hadn’t disappeared when the City fell. Quinn wants desperately to ask her how she’d put the fear of Darkness behind her.

‘We have another waypoint.’ She blinks at Glyph’s careful statement. The tone in its voice tells her that, with the sight of what was being contained on this ship, it wants her to turn around and leave. If she were being honest with herself, she wants to turn around and leave.

Once again, she’s left asking the same question: who the fuck is the Drifter, and what the fuck is he up to hauling around his own little chunk of the Ascendant Plane? And she knows that’s what it is--even with two barriers between it and her she can still recognize its awful power.

“Right,” she swallows the stone that had lodged itself in her throat, blinking rapidly and turning away from the glass, “which way?”

‘That bulkhead down to your left. I’m seeing light signature in that direction, too. Just three. The other four are on the other side of the ship.’

Well, she’s willing to bet that meant she’s about to meet her teammates. 

Her eyes drift back up to the twisting darkness just beyond the docking bay she stands in as she begins to move and then quickly return to what’s in front of her. A shiver ripples up her spine; there isn’t any obvious creature through that glass, but even so she can feel something looking back at her.

She leaves the docking bay behind, following Glyph’s directions. She’s so used to letting her team give her direction ad warning--it’s frustrating and unnerving to know she’s going to have to use her helmet while here.

Listening to Glyph tell her this way and that way, especially if they were going into a high-risk situation, would be inefficient at best and downright deadly at worst.

Pulling her armored duster’s hood up as she passes through a third bulkhead and into a room that stretches around a corner, voices reach her ears and Glyph goes silent as she approaches.

“I’m getting tired of waiting. I wanna fight something.” A woman whines.

“Calm down, Ash. We all had to pass through the Cabal exclusion field to get here--our fourth is probably taking it carefully.” A deeper voice responds; though it’s a statement meant to calm the first speaker, Quinn can hear irritation in it.

A snort follows the second voice. “If our fourth is so incompetent they cannot pass through such a threadbare fleet, I doubt their ability to contribute to this team I must work with.”

Her expression darkens with humorless amusement. Found the New Monarchy supporter.

The first one that spoke lets out a frustrated, impatient groan. Quinn imagines she was about to say something else, but all conversation halts when she rounds the corner and grabs the attention of all three.

She bristles at the sudden intense scrutiny and her eyes narrow at them in turn; hunter, titan, and warlock. The whole trifecta of classes.

With her being the odd one out.

The hunter is small, probably only a few inches taller than herself and clad in the typical lightweight but functional armor favored by hunters, painted in bright pinks, vibrant and obviously meant to call attention to herself.

She’s Awoken, her skin a dark purplish gray and eyes glowing silver, face heart-shaped and features petite and cute--but the look in her eyes is almost manic, contrasting entirely with the gentle upwards tilt to her lips. Her hair is wavy and cut to the line of her jaw, a light lavender in color.

“It’s about time,” she says, flipping a knife in one hand and settling the other impatiently on her hip, “I was promised a good fight and you almost ruined it!”

Impatient, trigger-happy.

“Don’t mind her. We were on Io and made it here first. That’s Ash, I’m Finn.” The titan introduces the two of them with a sigh and a glance at the hunter.

Their features are longer and more androgynous than Ash, body wirier than the usual titan but no less large. They’re Awoken as well--light blue skin, orange eyes, and a white painted marking down the middle of their lower lip and chin with short, blue hair.

They wear inky black armor that’s much heavier than the rest of those in the room is painted with bright splashes of white like a direct contrast to their hunter friend, and the fan-like sash they wore over their hip is white.

Patient, a mediator. But their armor is also banged up to hell and back, suggesting the titan is just as much into a good fight as Ash.

“Quinn.” She introduces herself in turn, shifting her weight and turning to scrutinize the warlock next. She nods at him in greeting. “I got held up on Earth, not by the Cabal.”

“It matters not.” He sniffs derisively, squaring his shoulders and standing with his hands clasped behind his back. His robes are swathed in whites and golds, gilded with elegant patterns and decoration, and he wears a black-and-gold patterned scarf tucked into the neckline. His skin and eyes are dark and his head is bald. Gold shadow matching the patterns on his robes covers his eyelids. “You were inefficient and I hope that does not extend to your participation in this challenge.”

Arrogant.

Of the three, Quinn thinks she may only be able to truly tolerate Finn.

Lips pursing she turns back to Ash and Finn. “I’m guessing we’re all in the dark on what we’re doing here?”

“Uh-huh.” Ash halts her knife-flipping long enough to reach back and adjust the black cloak on her shoulders. “Not sure what we’re waiting for now, but I’ve got half a mind to kick that weirdo--and you--for making us wait.”

Quinn ignores the threat and settles a pointed, stony glare on the warlock. “A challenge we’re all new to, so don’t act like you’re better than the rest of us.”

“We will see.” He replies with a curl of his lip. “My name is Adebole, and many do it but I would ask that you do not shorten my name to ‘Ade’. I do not like it.”

“Nice to meet you, Ade.” She fires back with as much false cheer as she can manage, smiling when his countenance grows angry. Well, they were off to a good start.

Across the room Ash laughs. “I’ve changed my mind, I like you!”

That makes one of us, Quinn thinks, quietly adding ‘fickle’ to her mental list of Ash’s personality traits.

A nearby door hisses open and, like her own entrance, all conversation or attempts at it halt, the four of them turning to look at whoever had entered.

The Drifter stops just inside the doorway and looks over all of them, his eyes settling on her last and a wry smile finding its way onto his lips. “Glad you made it, darlin’.” He says, and she frowns when she feels like there’s some kind of private joke in there that she’s missing. “Alright, rookies, ready to learn what you’re all here for?”

“I am no ‘rookie’, Drifter.” Adebole responds vehemently. Ooh, her petty response had struck one hell of a nerve in the man.

“Prove it on the field, rookie.” Drifter neither misses a beat nor acknowledges the aggression, and Quinn fights down a smile at the way the response aggravates Adebole further. Turning, Drifter steps back through the doorway and gestures over his shoulder for them to follow. “C’mon, this way.”

“You can’t just tell us the rules now?” A whine colors Ash’s demanding question as they all file after him.

“You wanna get dead, sister?” Drifter asks.

The question throws Ash off balance for a moment. “No?”

“Then pay attention and follow me.”

‘Quinn, if this ‘Gambit’ is dangerous enough that death is a possibility, you realize I can’t revive you, right? If you die, you die for good.’ Glyph opines to her, its discomfort heavy and grasping at her heart through their bond. ‘I don’t want to lose you, guardian.’

The swell of emotion that hits her after that threatens to topple her and her steps falter as she fights to get it under control. She says nothing, not wanting to speak aloud in her present company and hoping the determination and promise she dredges up can be picked up by her ghost.

She has no intention of getting herself killed--she wouldn’t go down easy even if she did.

She focuses on the Drifter’s back as they follow after him, her eyes narrowing; operating a dangerous, unsanctioned competition out of the Tower under the Vanguard’s nose, seemingly aloof about guardians that may die within it, and then the giant chunk of something his ship was dragging around and the damn tank of Ascendant power he kept--who was he?

She can’t think of a single reason for someone with good intentions to have enough interest in the power of the Darkness to keep something so dangerous in close proximity.

“Why are you keeping a chunk of the Ascendant Plane’s energy on your ship?” She asks abruptly, the question leaving her mouth before she can think better of it.

All of them stop when he does, her three other teammates turning to stare at her, bewildered. She pays them no mind, her gaze unwavering from the Drifter’s form as he turns to look at her sideways.

That damn smile of his doesn’t falter.

They stare each other down and there’s a look in his eyes that, for the first time since meeting him, she can safely identify--he’s daring her to back down from her demand for answers and the thinly veiled accusation.

He’s daring her to recant it and show a lack of spine.

But she doesn’t back down, and like with their first meeting the longer he watches her the wider his smile grows. Whatever he sees in her he apparently decides he likes. “Noticed that, did you? It’s a conversation piece.”

She bites down her immediate response to call bullshit as he keeps walking. She’s the first to resume following, pulling ahead of the rest of the group as the only one not still stuck on processing what had just happened.

“Hold on, you've got a chunk of what on this ship?” Finn falls into step next to Quinn.

“An alternate plane of existence, rookie. Try ‘n keep up.” Drifter replies breezily.

“How did you manage to do that?” Adebole demands, the tone of his voice having changed entirely--now he sounds dangerously interested. “You cannot just capture an entire plane of existence like a beetle in a jar.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Her eyes narrow again; she has a feeling that whatever he’s keeping it for has something to do with why they’re here on his ship, so she keeps quiet as they follow him while the rest of the group tries and fails to get him to answer their questions.

He turns a corner and stops in front of a sealed bulkhead, leaning to the side to input some kind of code into a keypad next to the door. Archaic, by City standards. It reminded her of the old Clovis Bray facilities half-buried in the sands that had swallowed Freehold on Mars--Golden Age tech and security. Had he appropriated it for his own purposes, or had it always been part of this ship?

The door slides open with a pneumatic hiss and they follow him inside, all eyes drawn to the object in the center of the room as he walks towards it. It’s an upright, clear cylinder with a wide base and what looks like input slots on four sides, twice as tall as herself.

Some kind of container?

“The fuck is that?” Ash asks, squinting at it suspiciously.

The Drifter stops next to it and raps his gauntleted knuckles on the clear chamber, resulting in a series of hollow thunks. His smile is lopsided and--proud? Did he make whatever it was? “This is a bank,” he answers. “Specifically, it’s a mote bank. There’s gonna be one in both teams’ arenas.”

Plural. More than one arena. Already different from the Crucible--no playing in the same pen, killing and being revived for points and objectives. But he had implied there was an inherent danger to the game, and that meant there was going to be more to it than the two teams being kept separate.

“Now, don’t you worry--your opponents got the same explanation you’re gettin’, but pay attention ‘cause you’re all in for a fight tougher ‘n more involved than any kiddie games like Capture the Flag.”

Damn, the Drifter must really not like Shaxx to be insulting him so openly; half the guardians in the Tower held the superstitious belief that the Crucible handler had some kind of supernatural sense for insults and slights, and no one wanted to be on Shaxx’s bad side.

He continues, stepping towards them. “Both teams transmat down to their respective arenas. In both you’re gonna face enemies you’re already familiar with: Cabal, Vex, and the Fallen--”

“What, are we racing to see who can kill the most enemies first?” Ash interrupts.

“I said pay attention,” The Drifter says sharply, and then continues as though she’d said nothing at all. “I wanna be clear: these enemies are as real as any you’d put a bullet in elsewhere and make no mistake, they will put a bullet in you and your ghost same as. This ain’t any kinda game to them. You got a problem with dyin’ for good, now’s your chance to skitter back home with your tails between your legs.”

None of them move, though she can feel Glyph’s open discomfort through her light and it’s probably silently begging her to take the chance while she still can.

The Drifter’s expression turns pleased in a way that has her shivering; she was beginning to understand why Glyph had said that something just wasn’t right with him.

He paces towards them again, gesturing idly with his hands as he speaks. “Now, whichever enemies chance decides to throw at you, you gotta kill ‘em. Simple, right? Well, all these enemies are gonna drop things called ‘motes’.”

As if to punctuate the statement, a small, glowing, pyramid-shaped object is transmatted into his hand--presumably by his ghost, who they all had yet to see. He turns to her and tosses the object over to her.

The second it lands in her palm she immediately fights not to throw it away. Her skin burns where it sits in her hand, even through the light gauntlets she wears and she again feels the distinct pull of the dark energy she’s so uncomfortably familiar with.

The mote glows softly as though innocent, but she knows instinctively that this thing isn’t any further from the Darkness than the Taken energy in that tank.

“Your jobs,” Drifter’s voice returns her attention to him and he gestures to all four of them, “is to collect the motes and drop ‘em in the bank, and to do it faster than your opponents do. You drop enough of those motes in the bank at once and it’ll send a nasty surprise to the other team’s side, blockin’ their bank and makin’ their lives miserable.”

She takes the moment of him looking away to quickly pass the mote off to Finn, trying not to make it look obvious how uncomfortable she was. “What kind of ‘nasty surprise’?”

“One of the Taken.” He answers, grin widening at the way she goes stiff in response. “How nasty it is depends on how many motes you got when you bank ‘em.”

Her chest tightens with discomfort; if the other team got this same explanation, it means they could do the same.

She supposes she can’t avoid fighting the Taken forever, but Sky-be-damned she isn’t excited to know that this competition was going to involve them, much less to know that she’ll be actively sending those monsters to attack the opposing team.

“Having second thoughts, darlin’?”

Quinn blinks up at him and tries to school the uneasy feeling away. She hadn’t even realized her focus had lapsed. He’s smiling at her and the challenging look in his eyes is back; he’s still reading her like an open book. “No.”

Stop calling me that.

He watches her for a moment longer before moving on. “Your first goal is to fill the bank before your opponent does.”

Unlike her, Finn, and Ash, Adebole is still holding onto the mote that the Drifter had tossed to them. They’d all passed it on as soon as they’d gotten a good look at it, but he’s still studying it with rapt fascination to the point Quinn wonders if he even heard any of the Drifter’s explanation.

“I assume,” Adebole says as though to prove her assumption wrong, turning the mote over in his hands and staring at it intently, “there is more to this competition than simply filling the bank.”

Drifter crosses the floor and snatches the mote out of Adebole’s hand, striding back over to the bank and completely ignoring the threatening glare boring into the back of his head. “You assume right.”

But he says nothing more, and after a length Finn lifts their eyebrows. “Are you planning on telling us what else, exactly, is involved?”

“Nah. You’ll figure it out. You’re all smart like that.” He replies with a kind of muted humor that Quinn just knows means nothing pleasant.

“And what do we get for winning?” Adebole asks.

“What do you get?” The Drifter laughs as though it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “You get paid, brother. Shaxx ever pay you to play his kiddie games?”

Competitive Crucible players did get paid, but that was by the Factions rather than by Shaxx himself, and not everyone made the cut for Competitive.

Ash slumps forward like a pouting child and Quinn wonders if she’d been one of the ones that hadn’t made that cut. “Not unless you count pats on the back and congratulations as payment.”

Finn frowns at her, but they share the same interest in their eyes. They fix a look on the Drifter. “You said our first goal was to fill the bank. Is there a second?”

A brief, darkly excited look passes his expression, so quick she nearly misses it. He lifts his arms in a half-shrug with easy cheer. “Your second goal is to be bad guys.” He tosses the single mote in his hand into the air, catching it and then with a deft motion slotting it into the base of the bank.

A silent gale of Taken energy fills it.

Quinn feels the blood drain from her face and her whole body goes rigid with pure, animalistic fear. Though the room itself is silent, the howling of that storm of Ascendant energy is loud in her mind and an echo of the Deathsong she’d missed hearing the end notes of by scant seconds more than a handful of times hides in its winds.

None of the others react, and with a clench of her jaw she fights to reign her fear in.

Oryx is dead. Her team had entered his throne world and killed him once and for all. The Taken had no King, and they were all the weaker for it.

She can handle this.

“What d’you mean ‘be bad guys’?” Ash frowns.

“Simple,” he answers, tapping the bank with his knuckles again, completely unbothered by whatever Darkness those motes were made of, “there’s the obvious--send Taken grunts to play merry hell with your opponents, maybe kill a few in the process, make ‘em lose their motes and set ‘em back. Put your team at an advantage.”

“And the not obvious?”

“Each team’s gonna have a gate in their arena that’ll open a portal to the other arena at intervals. You jump through, you get thirty seconds to play merry hell with ‘em yourself. Feel what it’s like to be the enemy.” He says, his grin turning wicked.

There’s something heavy to their silence this time. Something was significant about this particular difference from the Crucible--still guardians-versus-guardians, but something inexplicably off about it at the same time.

The sudden manic smile on Ash’s face makes Quinn nervous. “I like it. When do we start?”

Is she the only one unhappy that this whole thing involved the Taken? Is she really the only one that cares about how dangerous they are?

Just like that, the Drifter’s demeanor melts back into the unnervingly easygoing, friendly one she was becoming familiar with. “Head back to the docking bay you all got here in. We’ll get started soon as both teams are ready.”

“Wait, that’s it?” Finn asks.

“What, you want someone to hold your hand? May as well go back to the Crucible, ‘cause I ain’t gonna.”

“What about rules?” A scoff leaves Adebole. Did the man’s entire repertoire of moods consist of exclusively ‘arrogant’ and ‘irritated’? “You have only given us how the game is played.”

The Drifter laughs again. “Rules? There are none. Fill the bank, kill things, beat your opponents, and make it happen by any means necessary. How’s that for rules?”

“Fine by me.” Quinn says after a pause, hoping her voice doesn’t reflect the thick, uneasy feeling twisting in her gut. Adjusting the hair under her hood she turns and heads for the door. “Always preferred trial by fire.”

“Yeah, yeah, no one’s impressed, blondie.” Ash calls after her, pointedly loud, footsteps following after her nevertheless.

She ignores the insult; the thin boast hadn’t been much more than an attempt to ward off the way her skin crawled at the thought of being in an arena with Taken than anything else. No holds barred, and they were going into it almost completely blind.

Discomfort aside, she found herself actually anxious to get started.

‘You ‘prefer trial by fire’?’ Glyph asks her, nearly hysteric and fully incredulous. ‘Quinn, you could die. You could die and for what? I really don’t think Zavala would ever find out what killed you--I doubt it would spite him half as much as you think it would!’

“I don’t have a death wish and I’m not--” she stops herself from finishing the whispered statement, knowing damn well that she’d been about to lie not only to her ghost but also to herself. “Okay, so I’m also doing this to spite Zavala. How is this any different from when I’m active out in the field, Glyph?”

‘You’re not doing that for fun, for one thing!’

Ash cuts off anything else Glyph tries to say. “Ugh, great, I’m on a team with a loony that talks to herself.”

The lamenting whine nearly gets to her, but Quinn inhales deeply and forces it to roll off her shoulders. Save it for the enemies, Quinn.

They reach the docking back without any more words exchanged and file into it. Across the large bay stands another four-guardian team, fanned out onto their set of glowing pads on the floor.

Glancing at the others, she and the other three follow suit and fan out onto their own pads. They must’ve been heavyweight transmat pads--meant for longer-distance movement than what ghosts and field kits were capable of.

Reaching up to lower her hood she winds her fingers through her hair and loosely ties it back; when she lowers her hands Glyph transmats her helmet onto her head and she lets out a soft breath to steady herself, then lifts her hood again.

Footsteps catch everyone’s attention and all eight guardians in the bay watch as the Drifter makes his way up onto the podium between the two transmat platforms.

He looks between the two teams with a wide, toothy smile and produces several of his jade coins out of thin air. Like when she had met him, he rolls them out over his knuckles with deft ease. “Alright, mavericks--ready to see what you’re fightin’ today?”

No one says anything.

He’s left many impressions since she first met him, but Quinn amusedly tacks ‘show pony’ onto her what-the-fuck-Drifter list.

He snaps his wrist out and one of the coins sails into the air; all eyes are rooted to it as it arcs up and is caught again, then slapped down onto the back of his opposite hand. A heartbeat passes.

“Cabal on the field!” He calls out, lifting the coin and holding it out to them as though they were even remotely close enough to see what was on it. “Watch out for those Scorpius turrets, they sting worse than a left hook from Lady Efrideet.”

She nearly chokes out a laugh at the statement, thoughts of her scant few interactions with the Iron Lady that had briefly taken over Lord Saladin’s duties as handler for the Iron Banner tournament drifting through her head. She was a firecracker of a woman with a short fuse but otherwise good humor--how the hell did he know what a punch from her felt like?

Better question: what had he done to deserve it?

‘That coin has an engraving of the Red Legion’s sigil,’ Glyph remarks, ‘he must have separate coins with an engraving representing each enemy type. I guess that was what he meant by chance, earlier.’

She watches the Drifter as he steps over to a workstation set into the podium next to him and begins to work at it. He took the whole ‘chance’ thing seriously if he had to take the time to set up the matches immediately prior to them beginning.

“Am I synced with the other three?” She glances down the line where her teammates stood.

Glyph beeps in confirmation and a moment later their voices filter into her helmet. Ash mentions wanting to be the first to get a kill and Finn let out a long-suffering sigh. It isn’t until Adebole demands they all stay out of his way that Quinn speaks up herself.

“We’re on a team, asshole.” She snaps.

A laugh catches her attention and she looks back up at the Drifter, finding him nearly doubled over with mirth; a glance at the other team shows them all standing relaxed and still. Either the Drifter was tapped into their team comms and thought the vitriol was funny as hell, or he was just plain batty.

She’s not sure which to bet on. Yeah, this is gonna go great.

“Get ready to drop!” The Drifter calls out.

The glow from the pad underneath her intensifies as the transmat fires up and space rips apart around her.

[tsw-story]

Chapter 2 - Black Magic Woman

Buttons were clacking under the aggressive panic of Eldian's thumbs and fingers as the plumber jumped and jumped over hordes of terrifying fungus monstrosities. Suspenders weren't much to wear on the battlefield, but the little man pushed forward. That is, until his life came to an untimely end meeting a sharp-toothed flower protruding from a pipe.

“Aah! Damn it it all. Where'd that thing even come from?” Eldrian cursed as he dropped the controller to his knees.

The two of them sat on the cream-coloured carpet of Kevin's bedroom. A forty-inch CRT television rested on the stand in front of them, plugged into an old gaming console. The sad words of, “Game Over” were present on the screen at this moment.

“I thought you were a wizard,” muttered Kevin sarcastically.

“First of all, I'm going to turn you into a frog. Second of all, don't say that out loud. I'm probably already going to pay for what I did last night. Someone somewhere is going to have my butt on a platter, whether that's the government, or a friend. I'm not sure which is better.”

“Sorry, Eldrian. That whole thing was my fault.”

“No, no. It wasn't. Don't start saying that. I jumped in, and not only that, but I admit I kind of over-did it. I could have solved that problem while hiding and they'd never have known. I can't help but be a little...”

“Flamboyant?”

“All wizards are flamboyant.”

“Didn't you just tell me to stop calling you that in case someone hears?”

Eldrian sighed. “I hate hiding. I've done it for a couple decades. Thank goodness there's others like me or I'd feel really lonely.”

“Hey. I don't understand any of this in the slightest, but what I saw last night was something outstanding. Lightning from your hands, teleporting, changing clothes on a whim... and don't forget that I'm your friend, even if I'm just ordinary.”

“Thanks, Kev.”

“Uh. Eldrian? Can you actually turn someone into a frog?”

“Nah. That's more of a witch or warlock thing. You know, the darker magics. I guess you don't know. Just take everything I saw as the absolute truth and you'll be fine.”

“That sounds incredibly not good for me.”

Eldrian pointed to his own chin. “I like the goatee you're growing though, Kev. It fits. And with your long hair, you look like some kind of tangerine samurai.”

Kevin smiled. Lost for a moment in his own vanity, he looked away and scratched his head. “Thanks! I've actually been taking sword-fighting class. Wait. Tangerine samurai? What the hell does that mean?”

But when he looked back, Eldrian had disappeared. His eyes spun around the room to find his wizard companion looking over the shelves besides his bed. They had an assortment of comic books and small figurines. Kevin stood up and clicked off the television.

“Hey! Don't just wizard away like that.”

“What is this here?” Eldrian placed his fingers over a wooden carving.

It looked like it was made by a child's hands. The snout of the animal was a little bit shorter than it should be, and one eye was larger than the other. It's the thought that counts, anyway. If it has love, it can lack in everything else. It was only the head of a creature as well—a moose.

Eldrian looked surprised.

“Careful with that.” He put a hand on the wizard's shoulder and nudged him away. “Sorry. It's just that it means a lot to me. My father gave it to me. See, he made it for his own dad once a really long time ago. When my grandpa passed away, he gave this to me. My dad wouldn't accept it... He said he'd never accept back a gift like that. It was for his dad.”

Kevin continued. “I took an extra woodworking class at school. I thought maybe I could make him one too, just like he did. Maybe he'd accept it instead.”

The other boy pursed his lips. He was quiet. But after a moment he nodded, and he grinned and smiled. “He'll love it. You know what? Let's go for a walk, Kev. Get some fresh air, you know? And I'll try really hard not to use any magic in public this time.”

“Sounds good to me!”

Both of the boys made their way downstairs to begin their day on the town. They were going to paint the town red with their gamer talk and unfunny jokes. As they neared the front door, Kevin's mother waved them off.

“Don't forget a coat, honey!” she shouted. “It's getting chilly.”

“Yes, mom,” Kevin muttered as he slipped on a jacket.

His eyes turned to Eldrian, who was now sporting a trendy black coat out of seemingly nowhere. He decided not to ask this time. The boys pushed open the door to be greeted by a cold sunshine. The air was refreshing despite the brisk winds that occasionally sent a chill down their spines and at the very least, the clear skies made sure their flesh didn't freeze over—for the time being anyway.

“Let's walk past campus,” the tangerine samurai suggested. “I can show you where I'm going to school.”

“Sounds good to me. Lead on!”

They followed the sidewalk through the residential district. Homes, unlike they were the night before, now had vibrant coloured flowers illuminated by the day's new sun. It almost made them forget they basically lived in a desert. Eventually they neared acres of brick buildings and fields—Kevin's university. Eldrian admired the architecture from a distance while they made their way past.

Somebody was walking a good distance in front of them now. Kevin recognized her as someone from his school, so he leaned towards his friend to whisper.

“I've seen her around, but she gives me the creeps. Apparently she doesn't talk to anybody. She is kind of cute though, but she looks like she's going to steal my soul.”

“She's shy?”

“I don't know. She almost always has a face lacking in any emotion. Most people don't want to bother trying to talk to her, but the few who have were mostly ignored. She's not very friendly. Her hair is almost always different, too. She does it up every day, but she looks like one of those gothic lolitas.”

The girl in question, most likely unsuspecting that she was being spoken of, continued on in front of them. Her hair was snow white. It wasn't as if she was old, but instead, like all colour had been drained from each and every last strand of hair. She had irises that were red, presumably from contact lenses, Kevin thought. Maybe not. They matched the tiny red eyes of the skulls clipped into her hair.

She was noticeable shorter than them as well. Her petite stature was clothed by a white and black plaid skirt and a jet black t-shirt. It had a friendly white bat picture presented on the back. This girl wasn't heading to the campus, but instead past it, just as the boys were. It made sense, as she had no books in her arms, and no pack on her back.

“One time, I finally worked up the courage to approach her. I asked if she played video games, and she told me to burn in hell. Rejections happen, I get it, but that's seriously messed up,” Kevin said.

A horrifying, devilish face came to Eldrian.

“What the heck is that expression?” asked Kevin quietly. “You're freaking me out.”

Trying to look innocent but failing miserably, Eldrian whipped his hand. The air itself was his toy, moving along with his will, and creating a wind to do his bidding. This kind of magic seemed as trivial as walking to him. A breeze moved invisibly until it knocked the girl's choice of clothing temporarily into an embarrassing position.

“Eldrian!” Kevin nudged him, but he couldn't help but snicker. He covered his mouth.

“What? We're like forty feet away. I'm not God. I can't control the wind.”

The two's walking came to a gradual halt. Kevin leaned in once more to whisper.

“Didn't you say you were going to be more discreet?”

“A finger wiggle is pretty discreet.”

“I guess...”

The sound of a throat clearing made them jump. At their side stood a short girl—the same girl. She looked incredibly displeased, though she somehow still portrayed this with little to no expression present on her face. She crossed her arms. Ruby eyes pierced the air between them.

“Are you stupid?” the girl asked bluntly. She was looking directly at Eldrian.

The wizard looked shocked. “My mom says I'm smart.”

“Are you stupid, and also in kindergarten?” she asked again. “A university's campus is one of the most public places I can think of, yet you use magic, just like that?”

Eldrian's eyes widened. His skin went pale.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” lied the brown-haired boy. “Magic? Are you crazy or something?”

“And of all things you use it for, you use it to do... that?”

“Hah! Magic. I wish that was real. Right, Kev?”

Kevin laughed nervously. “Same here. I'd conjure up a sandwich right about now. I'm starving.”

All came to a halt when the girl grabbed the front of Eldrian's shirt and yanked him close. She glared daggers into his eyes. With a single finger raised in front of his nose, she gestured to it, and a tiny green flame sprang to life from her nail.

Eldrian tried to speak, but nothing came out. She was actually a wizard as well. Of all times for this to happen, it had to happen now, and like this. Her claw-like grip released him, and she simply looked intently at him like a scolding mother.

Finally a word escaped his lips. “Crap.”

“Crap is right,” she barked. “You're the most immature, irresponsible person I've ever met in my entire life.”

Kevin mumbled, “This is the most I've ever seen her talk to someone.”

She looked immediately to him. The boy's heart skipped a beat.

“Both of you. Come with me. Two you know what's shouldn't be walking around if they can't control themselves. I'm going to end up getting caught just by being around you.”

“Where are we going?” asked Kevin.

“My house. I live alone, so we won't be bothered.”

Powered by both fear and curiosity, they followed the girl away from the campus and between two tall buildings. It was barren and dark—an alley you'd expect to be murdered in. She made sure the coast was clear, and raised her hands up. A door came to be on the wall in front of her—painted pale white. She twisted the knob, and the three stepped quickly inside.

Once they were in the clear, the girl sighed. The door disappeared.

“I'm Deena. A witch.”

“Kevin.”

“Eldrian, but... a witch? That's unsettling.”

Kevin looked to him. “Why? Are witch's evil or something?”

“Often. Witches and warlocks are wizards that specifically use darker spells, like voodoo, or other spooky things.”

Deena twitched a brow. “This orange-haired guy isn't a wizard?!”

“Well, no,” Kevin muttered.

“Oh my god. Eldrian, I've only known you for about five minutes and I already want to turn you into a frog. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for a wizard to reveal himself to normal people? What if someone else finds out, and then the spellbreakers find out? Huh? What then?”

“I understand your concern, Deena, but it's fine. Really. I trust Kevin, and the only thing revealed today was the skull on your underpants.”

Kevin felt the room actually get colder as Deena went quiet. Eldrian tried to open his mouth to speak, but it was magically sealed. He started to make muffled noises behind his own lips. His eyes widened, and he began to tug a futile attempt to free himself from the enchantment.

She kept moving deeper into the home without saying a word. Kevin followed, and though Eldrian wanted to speak, he was still unable.

The house itself was unexpected in appearance. It looked like a cave that was refurbished into a home, which may have been the real history of the place. It was lit by ceiling lights that had to have been magical in nature. Any decorations were macabre—paintings of misty swamps or tiny, somewhat adorable, figurines of skulls. It was like a dungeon.

Her body flopped down against the couch with a relieved sigh.

“Float your phone over here. Both of you.”

Eldrian acknowledged her request. Both his and Kevin's phones lifted from this pockets, and he directed them easily over towards her. She snatched them up and began to fumble around with both them and her own.

“W-Wait. What is she doing?” Kevin asked.

“Mmmm. Mm. Mmm.” Eldrian's lips were still sealed.

Deena rolled her eyes and dispelled the magic. The boy opened his mouth wide—relieved to be free.

“Probably linking us together. Enchanted phones are used by wizards to text or call each other. They work magically, so they can't be traced, and a special link occurs during a phone call that allows one to open a portal to the other,” Eldrian explained.

“All right,” he replied. “As long as she doesn't start snooping around at my browser history.”

She looked up. With a wave of her hand, the phones maneuvered back to their hands.

“I don't need to snoop at your phone to see naked girls,” she said with a blank expression.

Kevin paused for a moment. “I'm not sure how to respond to that.”

“Well, first of all, Kevin, witches aren't always evil. I just like demons. And black magic.”

“That sounds a tiny bit evil still...” Kevin said quietly in response.

“Second of all, it's you both that need to do some explaining. What's your end game? Goofing around until you get caught? No... There's no way you could have survived this long as dumb as you are, Eldrian. Stay there.”

Deena got up without another word and disappeared from the room.

“She's cold,” Kevin whispered.

“Be careful. Witches are dangerous. The most frightening talent a witch can have is voo—“

He cringed. Pain shot through his body as he stood up straight and clenched his teeth.

“Voodoo. And I'm not deaf,” the witch said as she strolled back into the room.

She stood confidently—the kind of confidence you expect from a woman holding a great power in her hands. Tight in her grip was doll made of straw. It looked like nobody specifically, but thread into its heart was a strand of brown hair. Her unbroken glare spoke her seriousness. It confused poor Eldrian. She was cold before, but now she was truly a witch.

A thick, heavy tome was also tucked between her underarm and side.

“Both of you. Stay still,” she barked as she flipped open the book.

“What's that?” Eldrian asked curiously. “And what's wrong?”

“The Nekonomicon. An encyclopedia of information on demons, and also cats. Now shut up. Hmm.” She thought deeply as her ruby gaze scanned over the pages.

Her fingers moved up and danced in a rhythmic melody. Words came, but they sounded foreign, and frankly terrifying. It was something not of their world. She cast a spell, and an aura fell over both Eldrian and Kevin. Nothing happened next. They both stood silently.

“Not demons. Good,” Deena bluntly stated before putting the tome back down.

“I could have told you that!” Eldrian said.

“Sure, but demons aren't known for being truthful. I study them. I should know. Sometimes, I hunt them, but I usually just read. They're fascinating, you know. Of course you don't know. Nobody thinks demons are neat.”

“I do. You asked for my end game? I'm Eldrian, and my goal is to be the most skilled wizard in the world. And I also hunt demons in my spare time. I've met with a few.”

“That sounds like something from an anime... Wait. You've met with demons?”

“I didn't know that was weird. They can be nice sometimes. Just, usually not.”

Kevin looked to him. “Of course it's weird!”

Ring. Ring. Eldrian's cellphone began to chime at an incoming call. He lifted it from his pocket, and slid a finger across the screen before holding it to his ear. His mouth opened to speak though he seemed cut off by the other's speaking.

“Yes. Mhm. I got it. Really? Geeze. That does sound dangerous. Nobody was hurt, though, right? Good. Yeah, I'll check it out right away. I have an anchor near there. I'll be fine. I have a new friend, and she's a demon expert. Yeah! All right. Bye bye.” He hung up.

“Who was that?” Kevin asked.

“A friend. Apparently there's a demon lurking back in Grand Prairie. She wants me to check it out, and hopefully catch him, before someone sees. Or worse.”

From behind, Deena squeezed the voodoo doll in her frustrated grip. Eldrian choked. “You can't just volunteer me in something like that. You need to ask first.”

“S-Sorry,” Eldrian muttered. “Do you want to come help me hunt a demon? You can both come if you want.”

A sigh escaped her lips. “Fine... I'll go.”

“That sounds frightening, but I am curious of what a demon looks like,” Kevin said.

Eldrian let out a sharp laugh. “Awesome! Let's go then, team. It's time to hunt a demon. What could go wrong?”