#the sense of deep seated vengeance she holds towards the people who killed her mother and almost got her killed

[cryosewn]

@frozenambiguity asked: ¥

Looks: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 Personality: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 Attraction: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 Would they date them: yes | no | ????? Favorite thing about them: 

" Sir Kaeya is certainly a man of both great intelligence and company. I feel that we can talk throughout the evening about many things. It is rare to find a person that I would spend much time with willingly. I am usually not that prone to speaking so much with someone, but it feels quite natural to do so with him. Though, I suppose I should not always approach him with such deep topics and a more friendly conversation amongst ourselves would be just as well too. Perhaps it is best to simply say that Sir Kaeya is an interesting and charming individual with whom I regard with a level of respect and platonic fondness. " Least favorite thing about them: 

" ... Do you ever feel that you are looking into a body of water and the bottom looks much closer than it actually is ? That is my predicament with him. The water's surface looks calm but the current underneath might be more chaotic than what you can see with the naked eye. To his credit, Sir Kaeya certainly knows how to keep both his cards and secrets close to his chest that even someone like me has difficulty getting to them. It is understandable, though. A person's deepest thoughts, pains and fears can be worth concealing from everyone, and even though I am curious, even I know that there are certain boundaries that should not be crossed forcefully. "

" Still, I suppose that would make me a hypocrite to feel slighted by someone not showing me a bit of who they are underneath. In that case, however, I fear that we might not be able to become anything more than what we are now if neither of us gives a little more. "

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 36)

Azula reclines on the chair and stares up at the ceiling. She blows a strand of hair out of her face only to have it fall back where it had been, she does this several times more before it finally stays out of her eyes. She taps her feet together and drums her fingers upon her tummy--she is so thoroughly bored.

She hasn’t been this bored since father had sent her to spend a few idle days on Ember Island. Even that had ended up being more exciting than this. She slows her drumming and her frown deepens. She wonders if the baby knows that this is all its fault. She folds her arms across her chest.

When the front door opens Atsu bursts in first. He rushes past and darts up the stairs, scattering a trail of coins and cards behind him. Before she can ask, Hajime bursts out laughing. “Spirits, I’ve never seen someone look so angry to have some leisure time.”

“I was bored.”

“Still bored?”

She shakes her head, “confused.”

“I took him to one of his friend’s bending emergence celebration. He won a lot of goodies from the party games.”

“You celebrate discovering the ability to bend in the Earth Kingdom?”

“I think that it might just be a Wujing tradition.” She shrugs. “I got something for you.”

Her eyes sparkle with delight when he holds out a box of mochi. She reaches out and wiggles her fingers. It has been ages since she has delighted in her favorite treat. He sets it in her hands. “Thank you.”

He nods, “aside from boring, how was your day?”

She thinks for a moment. “Nope, that’s it, just boring.”

“Is it still boring?”

She pops a mochi ball into her mouth. “I have a feeling that it won’t be when Atsu gets back here.” She moves to make room for Hajime on the sofa. The man takes his seat and she props herself up against him. “Where is he anyways? With Caihong?”

Hajime laughs, “school, Rikka.”

“Oh, right. I forgot that children go to school.”

“What did you do?”

She shrugs, “went for a few years, then I was sent to war.”

“Right.” Hajime nods. “You were young…”

Azula nods, “most of us were.” Saying it out loud feels different. It makes it somehow worse. She holds her hand to her belly--at least her child won’t have to grow up hearing about a war. At least her child won’t be raised on war. Hajime cups his hand atop hers. “Can we talk about something else?”

“What do you want to talk about?”

Azula reaches for another ball of mochi. “What’s your favorite flavor?” She points to the treat.

“Green tea!” He answers immediately.

“I like strawberry.” She places the treat on her tongue.

“I guess I picked the right box then.”

Azula nods, “correct.” She nuzzles her head in the crook of his neck and closes her eyes. He squeezes her hand as a gentle breeze billows its way through the open window, bringing on it a perfume of jasmine and lily. She supposes that, for a boring day, it isn’t so bad.

That day she learns the value of doing nothing at all

.oOo.

Days later, she finally feels. And she feels everything. Everything horrible and unkind, that is. Everything that she thought she would never feel again. Everything and a touch of satisfaction and conquest.

She wishes that she could, at the very least, say that she had thought of showing mercy. But she hadn’t; mercy hadn't even crossed her mind. Granted, nothing had crossed her mind at all beyond a mechanical sense of duty. At least she can say that she had taken no pleasure in her vengeance. At least she can say that she feels sick over it. Sick and like she has just thrown away her last shot to be a better person. Her stomach twists and flutters. She can’t come back from this one. Whether she had felt it or not, hatred had consumed her, driven her, and ruined her. Deep down she is almost certain that hatred is all she has left even if she manages to burry it under strawberry fields and layers of clay. She is only hatred. Only a ghost of a woman who had died with her family. And for a moment she had fooled herself into believing that she was alive. That she could love and move forward that…

Sokka still keeps her company on and off and she can’t begin to understand why. She supposes that it doesn’t matter because she swears that he doesn’t look at her the same way anymore. And how can he after witnessing her kill a man? She is certain that he is looking at her the same way he had when they were younger--with fear, with caution.

It isn’t just Sokka. It is Zuzu and Mai and TyLee. And mother. She knows that everyone has remembered that she is a brutal and twisted monster. Agni, if Hajime were alive… she thinks that even he would look at her with disgust, he wouldn’t let Atsu see her anymore, he would take the baby from her. Her stomach lurches again; she wonders if Caihong has heard yet. Agni, she shouldn’t be around Caihong either...

She has made a perfect mess of her second chance.

Suddenly she wishes that she can have the empty numbness back. It is better than being nauseous with regret and anxiety. She thought that she had changed. She had fooled everyone, even herself.

She bunches in on herself and clutches her head. It hurts so terribly. Everything hurts. Everything is sad. She feels the bed dip and a hand on her shoulder. And this time she doesn’t yell at her mother to leave. “Where’s Sokka?” She asks, her voice soft and cracking. Usually he is the one to…

“I think that he’s checking on Caihong.”

This time she doesn’t snatch her hand away when her mother takes it. “I would have done the same thing.” Ursa speaks finally.

“What?”

“If someone had killed you or Zuko.” She replies. “I would have killed them where they stood. To kill a mother’s child…” she clicks her tongue. “It’s unforgivable.”

“There’s something wrong with me.”

Ursa shakes her head, “there would be something wrong if you didn’t detest that man for what he did to your family.”

“I killed him.” Just like she had shot the Avatar down before that. It has always been there, she realizes.  Perhaps not a desire to kill but a startling indifference towards doing it if she has to.

“And he massacred an entire village. Several of them from what I hear. He and his band have a reputation.”

Azula sits up and presses her lips together considering the woman’s words. Perhaps in killing the man she had spared several others. Or perhaps his group will move forward without him.

Ursa seems to be doing some pondering something of her own. “You’ve done a lot on behalf of the Fire Nation military.” She comments. “Just like Lu Ten and your uncle Iroh.”

“Yes, and?”

“That’s how your father raised you.”

She gives a reflexive cringe, the feeling comes as a tickling in her tummy, an uncomfortable lolling.

“He raised you as a soldier.”

More than a daughter, he had done just that. “What are you getting at?”

“I’m trying to say that you have a sense of duty, Azula. There’s a difference between enjoying a kill and accepting that sometimes it’s necessary. Did you enjoy killing that man?”

“Yes, mother.” That’s just the thing, she is both prideful and shamed all the same. “I wanted him dead since the day I met him and he is dead.” But she wishes that she wasn’t thrilled. Wished that there wasn’t even a little bit of her that felt satisfaction.

“Do you think that I’m evil?”

Azula nods, “very much.” A small smile plays on her lips.

Mother gives her an eye roll and a light nudge.

“I don’t think that you’re evil.”

“What if I told you that I killed your grandfather?”

“I would tell you that I already know.”

Ursa sighs but pushes forward anyhow. “Do you know why I killed him?”

She has vague ideas. Little scraps that her childhood mind had collected for her.

“I killed your grandfather to protect Zuko.” She pauses. “Have you considered that you are not so much like your father? That you’re more like me?”

“I try not to.” She grumbles.

Ursa rolls her eyes. “If you wouldn’t either kill or die to protect your children, I would have a lot more questions for you.” She pauses.

“Did it bother you, mother? To know that you killed someone.”

Her face grows stern and distant. “You and Zuko are still alive.” She says at last. “I don’t regret it at all.”

“But did it bother you.”

She hums to herself, “at first it did, I suppose. But when I see Zuko alive and happy, it’s much less bothersome.”

“Atsu is dead. Juro never got to live.”

“But Caihong is a cheerful girl and there is a whole village of people like her that is still standing because that man didn’t have a chance to ravage it.” She pauses and gives Azula’s hand a squeeze. “I suppose that it’ll be hard to sleep sometimes but every day that you see Caihong playing with that badger-mole, it’ll get easier.”

“They’re afraid of me; Zuzu, Sokka…”

“They’re afraid for you.” She gives Azula’s back a gentle pat. “Come on, it’s been a while since you left your room.”

For once she listens to her mother. She gets to her feet and lets the woman lead her downstairs. Perhaps, others are looking at her with terror, but for once mother is not. For once, mother looks proud.

[let-love-run-red]

Vengeance

Hey I have a request if you're willing to write it. How about one where reader is married to Kylo and they have a kid, and reader is angry at Rey for what happened to Kylo and decides to hunt her down for revenge?

-I’m not sure if this is what you had in mind Anon, but this was my take on this, hope you enjoy!

Contains TROS spoilers

General tag list: @keithseabrook27​, @scarlettsoldier​, @simonsbluee​

Empress (y/n) Ren. The unseen second head of the First Order. Now Supreme Leader Mistress Ren, mother to Prince Lucdall Ren. You and his father had often called him Lucky, because that's what he was. He'd been born into the most powerful family. He was a gorgeous baby, and grew into a gorgeous child, with his father’s thick dark hair and strong nose. He had your attitude and your grace. He was already a strong force user and had been training with his father for the day he was to take over the First Order.

Until she came along. 

Rey "Skywalker." You growled every time you heard that name uttered. As you walked through the marketplaces of the planets that had renewed hope. You gripped Lucdall's hand tightly, tugging him along behind you. He was scared, he was confused. His father was gone, he didn't understand death. He was only four years old, he didn't understand why his father wasn't going to come back, he didn't understand why the two of you had to exchange your sleek black clothing for the dusty rags of peasants and slink about the planets in search of hidden First Order bases to regain your following.

There were few things he did understand. He understood that you, his loving mother, cried herself to sleep every night. He understood he must stay quiet, keep his head down, not let anybody see his face. He had made that mistake on Coruscant, somebody had seen his face as they walked through an alley and tried to harm him. Luckily for him, you were a talented warrior that had managed to grab Kylo's recovered lightsaber as you escaped the burning First Order ship with your son.

He also understood the name Rey Skywalker, or Rey Palpatine as you called her, was one to be hated. He saw the way your jaw jumped when somebody said her name, the way your hand itched towards the lightsaber on your hip. If the way you tracked her across the galaxy wasn't enough of an indication the way the rest of the galaxy flew banners with her name etched on them was. Lucdall wasn’t a fan of her either.

As you piloted the small ship you'd stolen off Jakku you listened to Lucky play with a few small toys you'd purchased at one of the marketplaces. They were simple, nothing compared to the various things his father had brought him when he was alive, but they were enough to keep a four-year-old entertained.

Especially a four-year-old with the force you thought as one of the toys hovered around your head. It was a stuffed Nerf. You smiled and brushed it away from your face.

"Lucky, mommy has to fly. Please keep the toys with you?" You asked. You heard a quiet "ok mommy" as the nerf floated back to where Lucky was playing. You heard a sniffle and risked a glance behind you to see Lucky in the middle of the few toys with tears in his eyes. You turned the ship on autopilot before standing from your seat and walking towards your son. He looked so much like Kylo, it hurt you sometimes.

"Lucky, what's wrong?" Lucky stood form his place on the floor and held his arms out to you. You picked him up off the ground and held him against you. He wrapped his arms around your neck and buried his small face in your neck as his small body shook with sobs. You rubbed his back and smoothed his hair down. You sat on the small bed in the cramped ship, trying to hold back your own tears.

Lucdall finally pulled away, wiping his nose and eyes on the sleeve of his shirt. He looked at you, his bottom lip quivering. You felt a pang of sadness looking at your son. The shirt was too large for him, and you could tell it itched by the way he kept fidgeting. He was barefoot, he'd long outgrown his boots. He was growing so quickly; you knew in your heart he was going to be at least as tall as his father. You hadn't been able to find new shoes that you could afford, so you'd wrapped his feet in cloth in an attempt to at least provide some barrier between them and the ground.

"I miss daddy." He said. Those words were enough to re-light the fire that fueled the anger in your heart against the last Jedi. You pursed your lips and used the edge of your sleeve to wipe Lucky's tears from his eyes. You pulled him back into your chest and brushed over his hair once again. It was nearly as long as Kylo's was, and still soft.

"When will he find us?" Lucky asked quietly. You took a deep shaky breath, and let it out slowly.

You had to tell him.

"Lucky, baby." You said softly. He pulled away and looked at you expectantly. He had the eyes of Kylo Ren. There was no doubt he was the Supreme Leader's child, no doubt he was the heir to the throne of the broken remains of the First Order.

"Daddy's not," You paused as you looked at him. How were you supposed to tell a child his father, the man he loved and looked up to, the man who was supposed to protect him and teach him how to protect himself, wasn't going to find him.

"Daddy's not going to find us baby." You said. Lucky's eyebrows furrowed tightly.

"What do you mean? Daddy always finds us." He said. You could hear the familiar buzz in your ears that happened whenever Kylo went on a rampage or Lucky threw a fit. The sound of the force in your son becoming angry.

"Daddy can't find us. Daddy's not coming back." You said. He didn't know death; you didn't know how to explain it.

"Daddy always comes back." Lucky said, more seriously now. The buzz was growing louder, you didn't know if you could handle a force tantrum right now. Kylo was always the one to calm him when he had a force tantrum. But Kylo wasn't here anymore, you were.

"Lucdall Ren listen to me." You said sternly. Your sudden change in demeanor shocked him out of the beginning of his tantrum, but only slightly.

"Daddy is not coming back. Some very bad people hurt daddy, very badly." You said. The buzzing in your ears subsided slightly and you let out a breath.

"Daddy can get better, can't he?" Lucky asked as his bottom lip started quivering again.

"Not this time baby. They hurt him too bad." You said. Lucky took a breath again, before leaning against your chest. You rubbed his back again and pressed your lips to the top of his head. His hair was covered in grease and sand. You glanced out the front window to see the planet Tatooine floating before you.

"I want to hurt them." You heard Lucky mumble. You pulled him back. His eyes had taken on an angry gleam, one you had seen in his father many times.

"I want to hurt the people who hurt daddy." He said. You heard a crackle in your ears and watched the toys on the floor begin to vibrate.

"No Lucky." You said, resting your palm against his cheek and pressing your forehead to his own. You waited for him to do what he'd done since he was a baby, open his mind to you and allow you to take away his anger. You were his mother, and you were hellbent on making sure your baby never hurt. Finally, Lucky gave in, revealing the anger and sadness that had been brewing in his mind since the downfall of the First Order. Since the two of you had woken one morning with Kylo missing and the First Order in shreds after the emperor’s fleet had been destroyed. You held it with you as Lucky fell asleep in your arms. It always took his energy to release his emotions, he would sleep for now. Long enough for you to finish what you had come here for.

You landed the ship on Tatooine as close to the old home of Luke Skywalker as you could without alerting the Scavenger. The nobody. You stood from your seat, dropping the rags that draped over you like a shawl and leaving only the tightly wrapped fabric secured by one of Kylo's old belts. His lightsaber attached to your hip, along with the daggers you'd stolen and bought as backups. You walked to where Lucky lay on the scratchy mattress, bent down, and placed a soft kiss on his temple.

"Sleep my prince, I'll return soon." You exited the ship, closing the hatch and approaching the settlement. She was force sensitive; you knew she could sense you as you approached. You had enough knowledge of the force to know that she could sense you. You watched as she appeared from the settlement, squinting into the sun. Her lightsaber on her own hip. You walked with purpose, the tails of your knee-length outfit whipping behind you as you did. 

She was the reason he was dead. The reason your son had to be raised without a father. The reason he was sleeping on a flat mattress on a junk ship rather than in his quarters on a star destroyer. She was the one that broke Kylo Ren, the one who killed Ben Solo, the one who destroyed your family. A smile broke her face as you approached.

"Hello, it’s been so long since I've had visitors. I'm Rey Skywalker, you are?" She said as you continued your approach. Her eyes flicked to the belt around your midsection, face falling as she recognized the lightsaber you drew and ignited.

"Allow me to introduce myself." You growled as you swung it at her. She ignited her own, blocking your rapid hits as you pushed her back further.

"I am (y/n) Ren, wife of Kylo Ren and Supreme Leader of the First Order." You said through gritted teeth. You pushed against her blade and lifted one leg, kicking her stomach and pushing her onto her back in the sand.

"Wife? I didn't think Ben was married." She said. There was that name, Ben. No. He was Kylo. You stood over her and raised Kylo's saber to drive it into her chest. She threw you off her with the force and you cursed as you landed and rolled to your feet, turning to face her and block her swing as your (h/c) hair whipped around your face. You used your other hand to grab one of the daggers on your other hip, preparing to throw it into her stomach when she used the force to throw the daggers from their place and bury them in the sand.

"He turned to the light on his own, he was good." She said. You growled and pushed back with Kylo's saber, catching her blade on the cross guard and pushing the tip into the ground. You kicked her in the head as she bent with her blade to avoid losing it and she stumbled backwards before lashing out with the force. She pinned your arms to your side as you thrashed against her hold.

"He was the strongest man in the galaxy, you ripped him away from me." You hissed. You could feel a crackling in your ears, and assumed it was from being pinned with the force. Rey stood form the ground, taking deep breaths.

"You're not force sensitive." She said breathlessly. You continued to struggle against her hold.

"(y/n), I don't want to kill you. Please, just go." Rey said. You could feel the force loosening its hold on you.

"I will not." You said as you broke free and charged her again. Rey lifted her saber to block your wild swings as you cried out in rage, stumbling when she pinned your red blade to the ground and threw an ill-timed kick to your back. You rolled over the lightsaber blades, landing down on one knee as Rey knocked the saber from your hand with the force.

"(y/n) I'm going to give you one last chance to run." Rey said. You lunged at her, dodging the saber blade and tackling her to the ground, knocking her own blade from her hand as you wrapped your arms around her midsection. She let out a groan as she connected with the ground.

"You ripped apart my family!" You yelled, pinning her to the ground with your knees on her hands and throwing hit after his to her face. She tried throwing you off, only for you to punch her harder.

"You are the reason we're alone!" You cried. Rey took a breath before throwing you off and rolling to her feet, spitting blood from her mouth.

"We?" She asked, using the force to summon her saber. You took a few deep breaths, scrabbling frantically for Kylo's saber. You couldn't lose it; you could not be unarmed.

"The First Order must die." She growled, wiping blood from her face and raising her saber.

"And it will die with you." She raised her saber, only to freeze with a gasp before dropping the saber.

"Mommy!" You heard Lucdall's voice. You turned to see him holding his fist towards the two of you, his hair flared around his head and his eyes a disturbing shade of yellow.

"Lucdall!" You cried, running towards him. He released his grip on Rey who fell to the ground clutching her throat and gasping.

"It's not possible," She breathed, looking to Lucdall in fear.

"He is, he can't be a force user." You scooped up your son in your arms, looking around frantically for Kylo's saber as you clutched Lucdall close. He wriggled in your grip as Rey stood and rubbed her throat. She retrieved the saber before approaching the two of you. You curled yourself around Lucky, holding him close while growling at Rey.

"If you come any closer, I'll kill you." You seethed. She looked on in pity, raising her saber to strike. You lowered your head and held Lucdall as he squirmed, before you heard two blades clashing. You looked up to see a glowing blue light holding Kylo's saber.

"Ben?" Rey asked. You looked up to see the shape of Kylo, as a force ghost, holding his own saber.

"You dare raise your hand to my wife?" He growled angrily. You looked on in disbelief as he pushed against Rey's saber harder.

"Dream of harming my child?" He shouted, swinging his blade and catching hers against the cross guard to twist it from her grip, he caught it in his other hand and flicked it on. 

"To use my family name against one of my own blood!" He cried, swinging the sabers towards her. She ducked and rolled away from him, scrambling in the sand for something. She continued backing away from Kylo. He was all grace, light on his feet and dancing through the sand as she slipped on her own clothes.

"Ben you were good!" Rey cried, digging in the sand once again as he approached her.

"A moment of weakness." Kylo growled, raising his own saber when Rey finally produced a bundle of cloth, ripping it open to reveal Luke and Leia's sabers. She ignited them both, standing to face Kylo. You watched the two face off, still holding Lucdall close. He had been trying to struggle out of your grasp since the moment Kylo appeared, recognizing his father’s voice.

"I want to see Daddy!" Lucky finally cried, causing Kylo to turn and face the two of you. Rey swiped at his midsection with the saber, having no effect on the ghost. Kylo turned to face her with anger in his eyes. He finally raised both sabers he held, kicking Rey down into the sand.

"You can't touch me." He said, crossing the sabers across her throat. She breathed out heavily as Kylo pulled the blades together, finally ending the Palpatine line forever. He let out a huff, dropping the scavengers saber next to her lifeless form, sheathing his own saber and turning to you and Lucdall.

As he approached, Lucdall suddenly grew shy, burying his face within your robes. Kylo knelt in the sand in front of you, watching quietly from a short distance. You stroked Lucdall’s back, feeling tears in your eyes as you looked upon the face of the man you loved. You smoothed your hand over Lucdall’s hair and gently pulled him away from your body, turning him to face Kylo.

"Hello little one." Kylo said softly to Lucdall. Lucdall glanced up to Kylo's smiling face before looking back to where Kylo sat in the sand, nothing being displaced by the ghost. 

"Daddy?" He asked, scooting forward slightly. Kylo grinned wider and nodded, sitting cross-legged in the sand. Lucdall stood from your lap, moving towards Kylo and reaching out a hand to touch his face. Lucdall hesitated before his hand connected with Kylo's face, and Kylo gently reached his hand to take his son's own. Lucdall looked down to see his hand through his father’s semi-transparent one.

"You've grown so big." Kylo said to Lucdall, voice wavering. Lucdall stepped closer to Kylo once more, leaning experimentally against his chest. Kylo wrapped his arms around his son, holding him close. You shuffled forward, running your hand over Kylo's bicep to feel fabric. You pulled back in surprise.

"How?" You asked. Force ghosts were not supposed to be able to touch things or interact with the world around them. Kylo opened one arm, pulling you against him and whispering in your ear.

"I don't have much time; I used the dark side to finish it. I won't be here much longer I just had to, I had to see you. To feel you, to hold him." He said, gripping the back of your outfit and burying his face in your neck as you brushed your fingers through his hair. You felt Kylo shaking and looked down to see him crying. Lucdall was crying as well, crying and clinging to his father's robes the way he would when he was young.

"Lucky," Kylo said softly when he pulled away from you. Lucdall looked up to meet his father’s eyes. Kylo lowered his forehead to press it against Lucdall's own before speaking. "my brave son. You are destined for greatness. Never forget your father loves you." He said, before releasing Lucdall from his grasp and guiding him towards you. He reached out to rest his hand against your cheek.

"And you, my beautiful beloved (y/n)," He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, "I will always protect you." Kylo said, before standing to his feet. He offered you his saber and you took it, reattaching it to your belt. You watched as Kylo turned his back to you walking into where the sun was setting before fading away with the dust. You felt tears slip from your eyes as you held Lucdall tighter.

"Come Lucky, it's time to go home." 

[caffeinated-tater-art]

Valentina was 14 when the Jedi council removed her from her padawan training and casted her out the Jedi order. She was too passionate they said, too irrational and felt too much to be a Jedi. Her training in the halls of the Jedi order was debated from the very start. With her being a daughter of a powerful politician, half of the council found her acceptance to the academy as a politically driven motive to have the Jedi who's closely tied to politics.  But this decision was waived as she was a child who had a strong pull in the force and as such should be trained into being a Jedi.

After years of being a padawan, her control over the force became stronger however her emotions often became a problem. As a Jedi, attachments were not permitted but Valentina always had a big heart, and she often gave it away. On a mission in the outer rim, she and her Master were tasked on a basic recruitment mission. A youngling was found on a native tribe in the marsh lands. Yee’ra, was her name. Humanoid, about 2 years old with light blue skin and big black eyes. She was a spry little kid with way too much energy for anyone to contain. Valentina found herself absolutely loving this child from the first few moments she spent with her. Her Master went ahead to talk to the youngling’s remaining parent, her father. Curious, Valentina asked Yeera where her mother was. Yee’ra hesitated at first, looking down suddenly fidgeting her feet. Valentina sensed her discomfort at the topic and thought maybe she overstepped her boundaries but Yee’ra gave her a polite shrug. ‘My dad doesn’t want to talk about it, he thinks I’m too young to know.’ Yee’ra said while picking on the lints on her pants. ‘But, people talk- I hear them talk about how sorry they were for me, never understood why until I heard about the roving bandits who came here once-’, Yee’ra stopped and waited for Valentina’s reaction, Valentina listened carefully, ‘- and, and they took my mom. They say they were slave traders, or marauders, I really dont know what those are and-.’ ,Yee’ra started to ramble clearly still processing this information herself. Valentina placed a comforting hand on Yee’ra arm, ‘Well, we aren’t so different after all. I lost my mom too when I was very young’ ‘Did marauders take her too?’ ‘No, but an accident did’ ‘I’m sorry.’ Valentina wrapped an arm around Yee’ra and gave her a smile, ‘Don’t be, training in the Jedi temple helped a lot. Kept my mind off it.’ Valentina playfully flexed her thin arm and made her voice deep,’ Made me strong!’, Yee’ra laughed at her attempt.

Valentina and Yee’ra passed the time showing off force tricks leaving Yee’ra awed by what the Jedi are able to do. Yee’ra did not pass the chance to try and imitate what Valentina did and tried to levitate pebbles lying on the ground. To Valentina’s amusement, she sneakily levitated a pebble making Yee’ra jump and run around in excitement screaming ‘I’m gonna be a Jedi!’. A huge arguement in Yee’ra’s hut interrupted their glee as she hears her father screaming in anger. Not a few moments later, her Master leaves the hut in a quick measured pace, their eyes latched on Yee’ra. They kneeled and looked at Yee’ra intently in the eyes, seemingly reading her- her thoughts? her future? And then then her Master declared, ‘The force is strong in you, youngling. Your only path now is to be trained.’ Confused, Yee’ra looked at the strange Jedi Master and Valentina. ‘ But, my dad-’, Yee’ra asked wondering where her father was. ‘Your dad knows in his heart that this is the right path for you’, the Jedi Master held out their hand. Yee’ra paused. She looked back at Valentina looking for some reassurance, but Valentina herself was confused by what was happening before her. Valentina realizes what was happening and managed to give Yee’ra a small smile, hoping that she was giving Yee’ra the ressurance she needed, trusting that her Master was doing the right thing. But she was not sure what was right anymore. The Jedi Master led Yee’ra and herself into the ship they came with and was quick to take off. Just as they were rising above the tree level, Valentina saw a glimpse of Yee’ra’s father running outside his hut, his face anguished, his shouts silenced by the roaring blast of the ship’s takeoff. He screamed Yee’ra’s name. They were no better than the marauders who took Yee’ra’s mother.  Valentina was unprepared to know this side of the Jedi Order. She knew it happens and she knew that it was for the ultimate good. But she also knew in her heart that it was wrong. She asked her Master and the other Masters for clarity, to convince herself that the Jedi were still the knights who fought for justice. But knowing the truth has already clouded her trust in the order. 

A few months passed, Valentina continued with her training but her Master sensed her doubts. ‘You hold too many misplaced emotions, Valentina. What we did for Yee’ra was intended by the force.’ Her Master placed their hand on Valentina’s shoulder giving it a small squeeze. ‘Yee’ra is now one of the best youngling’s we have so far even though she started at a late age. Her future is bright and she will soon become a padawan like yourself. And who know’s, you might be the Jedi Master who would get to train her.’  Valentina tried to shrug off the thought, how can she face the child she helped kidnap from her family. Anger. Unsure where it came from, but all she could feel was anger. No matter how hard she focused on meditating, it was all she could feel. Until a sharp pang in her stomach hit her like sledgehammer. Dread. Emptiness. All at once. For a split second she felt as if air in her lungs was suddenly vacuumed and familiar voices was screaming in her head. Silence. The voices suddenly stopped. 

News travel fast in the halls of the Jedi Temple and it was not long until Valentina heard the devastating news. Her father, Senator Leon Karvajal, and her brother Guille, was a victim to a accident. Their ship was en route to the Capitol but as it was entering the atmosphere the reentry protocol failed caused by internal malfunction setting the freighter a blaze with no parts to spare. Valentina was quick to rush towards the Masters council, to ask who was behind this? to beg for justice? she does not know but needed to do something. However, she was met only with sorry looks and words of comfort that she doesn’t want or need. They said it was matters beyond them for it was confirmed that it was all a terrible accident. But, Valentina was aware that in the Capitol, assassinations like this was not uncommon. 

Against every Jedi rule and code against family and ties with them, Valentina kept tabs with her family’s affairs all those years. She was aware of her father’s position in the Senate and how much influence he carries. In the past couple of years, a conflict was brewing within the senate, dividing itself and was now at the verge of change. Change to what end, she was unsure, but she was certain that her father and a few more senators were the only one holding the line against a radical change that was about to fall upon the republic. Him being in an accident at the most critical moment in the senate was no coincidence.

Conspiracies floated around the capitol. Bureaucrats, capitalists, private sectors, many pointed at different directions, stories and figures as to who or what really cause the beloved senator’s death but Valentina’s investigation lead her to betrayal she never saw coming. Eva, her own sister, caused her father’s death. A bomb was set-off in the ship causing it to fail the reentry protocol. This was confirmed in the last coms sent from the ship. And the bomb was traced to an assassin hired by her sister. She knew she was always against her fathers decisions, always thought his stubbornness was weak, and her agendas don’t often align with their father’s, but to kill him just to take the senate seat was something she never thought was something her sister could do.

Blinded with searing rage, Valentina cuts down whoever was on her way until she reached her sister’s chambers, finding Eva cowering inside her closet. She brings her hand out and wills the force around Eva’s neck and grips it. Eva’s pleading was cut off as her airway was suddenly held tight. She couldn’t see who was attacking her in the dark apart from the yellow eyes that pierced in the shadows. Until a familiar child’s voice, a familiar anger a familiar sadness, cut through the deafening blood that thumped in her ears.  ‘Why did you do it, Eva?.’ ‘V-Valentina?’ Eva floated, her head hanging in the air like it was on an invisible noose. Her body was frozen and she can now feel her head getting lighter. ‘Was it worth it?, Valentina asked through her tears. Her anger was beating like a drum in her chest. She felt as if the terror that was in her sister’s eyes were giving her a satisfaction she had never felt before. ‘Was the senate worth our father and brother’s life?’ Eva was now close enough to see her sister’s face. Still hooded in shadow, her sister’s face was as young as she could remember. Young, angry, wild. All was the same, but her eyes. It was no longer the eyes she remembered her with. The sparkling sky blue that shines naturally. No, it was now sickly yellow. Yellow that shines in a different way. It was bright like a predator in the dark.  VWOOOM.         

Blue light washed over the room when Valentinas saber stabs through her sisters body. Eva jerked and kicked for a few moments and then slumps. Her lifeless body falls on the floor.

After she avenged the assassination of her family it sparked an inner strength she never knew she had. Powered by vengeance and hate towards the corruption that lies in the senate and the council, her journey to the darkside begins.

[innocentfighter]

Unfearing

Hal had never been afraid.

When he was four, there had been an earthquake. The whole earth had pitched his mom had brought him and his brothers under the table. Jack, who was five nearing six was ash gray and his eyes were wide, he didn’t say anything by he was terrified. Jim who had just turned three was crying in their mother's shoulder, begging her to make the shaking stop. Hal on the other hand was on his hands and knees waiting for the pitching to stop so he could go back to playing.

Once the quake had passed and it was deemed safe by their mother, the boys were able to go back to their activities. Jim clung to their mother’s shirt and Jack hung around her skirt. Hal only pouted because he had been playing with Jack before the quake. So instead he climbed up on the sofa and looked at the pitching waves of the sea.

He wasn’t so sure why his brother’s were affected.

His mother called him her “brave boy.”

Each of the Jordan kids had their own nicknames. Jack was “genius son” and Jim was “handsome man”. It wasn’t to say that the other’s weren’t handsome or smart, but to say what trait they showed most frequently. Dad had told him that the reason he was called “brave boy” was because he was a fighter, he’d been born too early and the doctors thought that he wouldn’t make it.

Hal liked to think it was because he had never ran to his parent’s room crying about the monsters in his closet. They were there, but if he should them that he was afraid, they would never leave.

He’d never known fear.

When he was eight his father took him to a flight demonstration. It was important, Hal had guessed because of the way his father had been preparing for it. The plane had been checked over a lot, his father had told him, and even though Hal had usually been allowed to sit in the pilot’s seat before, this time he couldn’t even touch the outside.

The show had gone on as expected, until the man next to him, the one with the annoying girl, started shifting. In Hal’s experience, that always meant the adult was nervous. So he got nervous too, and stared after his father’s plane. It was leveling out after a loop and suddenly it wasn’t a plane but a ball of smoke.

It cleared and the plane was heading towards the ground. Adults were yelling now, but Hal could only clutch his father’s jacket tighter and watch as the plane didn’t pull up from the nose dive. To this day he swore he saw his father’s eyes meet his, Hal was sure that his dad hadn’t been afraid, just calm.

There was no way anyone could’ve survived the crash. After they tamed the fireball, many people came crowding around him. They told him he was in shock and that he must be terrified. He wanted to say that he wasn’t scared. It’d been his worse fear, on some level he thought, so what was left to be afraid of?

After the accident, Jack developed a fear of heights and Jim wouldn’t look at a plane without crying. Hal missed his dad, and he cried because his dad was gone. He wasn’t detached from his father’s death like his grandma had worried about, but that he just didn’t understand why they thought he had to be more affected by it. Accidents happen, it was the risk of the job.

He never reacted to fear by fleeing.

At twelve all of his friends had started getting into horror movies, so Hal watched them as well. What he didn’t understand is why his friends would jump and hide when the killer came into view and killed another victim. Sure he reacted to the jump scares, twitching when it was suddenly loud or the hallway was no longer empty but he didn’t have nightmares after that. Nor did he have to walk home with a flashlight like some of his friends did, keeping all of the shadows at bay. Hal hadn’t even thought of calling his mom to pick him up.

Jack had written off the movies as lame and boring while Jim watched them with rapt attention and seemed to like the thrill the scares gave him. The fad didn’t last long with Hal, they just weren’t scary.

There was never a challenge he was nervous about facing. Failure didn’t make him back away.

There had been a cliff back in Coast City, the local rumor was that in the fifties a couple of teens had died from jumping off of it. That they had landed on the rocks and impaled themselves. Hal had never found any records of it, but it was always fun to tease Jim when they walked by it on their family beach days.

When he was sixteen, there had been a kid a year old than him, one of Jack’s friends, that always said that “Harold Jordan is only acting like he’s tough.” Most of the time Hal rose to the bait and ended up doing stupid shit that got him in trouble at home or at school. Jack never once said that the other boy was instigating it, which made Hal think that his brother just wanted to see him knocked down a peg.

So one day it escalated, and the kid said that Hal was too chicken to jump off of the cliff. It was a stupid thing to say, because no one would fault anyone for not wanting to jump of a potentially fatal cliff. Hal of course couldn’t let the insult stand, he wasn’t too chicken to do anything!

He told the entire lunchroom that he was going to jump friday after school. Only so that if something did happen, he would have a weekend to heal. The student body ooh’ed and most of them showed up that afternoon. Hal showed up in swim shorts and an old Ferris Air shirt.

Jack looked like he was going to have an aneurysm for how red his face was.

“You’re going to get yourself killed, and mom is going to have to deal with losing another one of her family and Jim’s going to have to deal with losing a brother.”

Hal had only raised an eyebrow, “so? You’ll be happy to see me go.”

That had shut Jack up, and Hal knew that was a low blow that they were going to have to handle at a later time and date.

He made sure to catch the bully’s eyes, and once he did Hal flipped his head up and walked to the edge. Peering below he saw the churning water and semi-sharp rocks.

Since he had an excellent head for heights, he back up a few steps and ran. He flipped off the cliff and angled himself into a dive position. Once he hit the water he wasn’t entirely sure of what happened.

The waves slammed him against the cliff wall and the chill stole his breath. Most people would’ve been paralyzed with fear, but Hal shook his head, tried to get air back into his lungs and swam to the nearest point on the shore.

Only once he was dragging himself onto the shore did he realize the purple blooming across his chest from his hip to the pectoral. Blood leaked lazily out of several cuts on his body. Jack was sprinting towards him.

At the hospital they found out he had two fractured ribs and a fractured hip. Jack told the hospital that it was a hit and run, Hal never loved him more than in that moment.

Things that happened in the past never kept him from living in the present.

The sky was still mostly pink on the dawn of his eighteenth birthday. Hal was standing outside of the air force recruitment office, even before it had opened. Last night’s argument hadn’t deterred him in the least.

His mother had begged him not to do it, crying “think about what happened to your father!” He had responded that the accident was a fluke, he would be fine.

Jack had been eerily silent before leaving the house completely.

But Jim’s tactic was to corner Hal in his room. Sit down on the bed across from him, and look him deep in the eyes. Telling him of statistics and what would happened to him. The parting blow had been, “your death would tear this family apart. You’re our rock!”

That’s why he had slipped out before they could go round two and why the moment he had his signing bonus he would put it on a down payment at the apartment right down the street from Ferris Air’s airfield.

His family’s fear never made sense to him.

People had never intimidated him.

Carol Ferris had the air of a woman who knew what she wanted and and knew that she could get it. Any man that was luck enough to land her would have to deal with her hurricane personality.

Hal loved it, where people had stayed away from Carol because she was powerful and scary in her own way he was attracted to her. She wouldn’t cave easily or let herself be driven by fear.

It only backfired when Hal realized that they wanted different things. Maybe at some point he could’ve settled down with her, had a few kids of his own. But the ring came and he answered its call with an emphatic “absolutely.”

(Needless to say Batman never had much hold on him, he respected what the Dark Knight was doing and trusted that he was right, but the whole fear thing never stopped him from viewing Batman as just a man).

He leapt at opportunities that made other people back away.

Hal became an Emerald Knight, a warrior without fear. It proved to everyone else what he had already known, he was a man without fear. Now they couldn’t dispute it as being egotistical.

Barry had always called it stupid and that it threatened his longevity, but he never once teased Hal about being afraid. Even Oliver, who was known for being reckless had nothing on Hal’s fearlessness.

Other heroes looked to him as a guide and he rose through the ranks of the Green Lantern Corp. He became their greatest, because he had never known the full extent of fear.

Anyone would’ve been devastated at the lost of their entire city.

It was sorrow and rage. Hal hadn’t known what to use to fuel his fight. He settled on rage, it kept his head clear of everything else but one thought, and that was taking out the villain before he could do that to someone else’s town.

He didn’t believe in vengeance. It wasn’t in him to strike out against a hurt to cause more hurt. Another reason why he and the Bat never got along, his crusade started as vengeance and then morphed into justice. Hal couldn’t even think of getting even. It was just stopping the cycle.

When the fight was over and there was nothing else to direct his attention he crumpled to the ground, holding a doll that was the only proof that there had been a city there.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t know who he was or what he should do.

So he went back to familiarity. Grieved by recreating his city. He couldn’t create the life, even in his pain he couldn’t knowingly go against the corp. But he had, and they came for him.

He panicked and unknowingly sealed his own fate as yellow crept into his vision. It was like being a passenger in his own body. While the actions weren’t by his own will (and wasn’t that funny the greatest Lantern lost in a battle of will, did he really deserve that title?) they were by his hand.

It was almost too easy to turn his back on his way of life for so long. He slaughtered his fellow lanterns, rampaged on Oa. Killing Sinestro broke him, that had been the last real attachment to his former life.

He didn’t give up, but he stopped fighting. Fear had won, he was too cowardly to face what his actions as parallax had done. So he let himself become the bad guy, fight those he called friends. Something dark took over, urging him to remake the universe.

The echoes of you’re too weak and what can you do anymore and they won’t forgive you bounced around his head. It crushed whatever else was in his will and he really did become the passenger.

He never thought that it would go as far as it did. When Oliver, of all people, looked at him with fear and shot him in the heart with an arrow. Hal knew that this had gone on long enough. The shadow of what he had become needed to be gone.

So he took the opportunity the moment that he could. Will surged in him one last time, and he pushed back whatever had possessed him. Enough that he could relight the sun.

Which he did but it cost him his life.

The following years he was plagued with doubts and fears, cries for vengeance.

He grew to understand why Jack and Jim were afraid of the earthquake. Why they were wary around what took their father from them. It was clear why people feared the shadows. What kept people from enjoy the thrill of dangerous stunts.

Hal understood fear and doubt now. But he also learned about vengeance. Why people sought out their parents murderer or why people lashed out at the ones that hurt them. What was so satisfying about it.

Spectre and Parallax taught him why people felt like that. The reasoning and motivation behind it. He’d been plagued with doubts, small doubts for years. He was sure it was Parallax’s doing. But he never felt that cold terror people claim. Nor did he feel that burning desire for revenge that some did.

He only understood it.

Things got muddled when he was a soul holding two entities of things he’d only come to know in the time that he’d been trapped with them. They pulled him every which way and it was all he could do to not give into any side of him.

The others, they looked at him with distrust. Those that knew he was back. Most heroes ignored the rumors. They didn’t want to think that he was back. That what he did could be done again.

In a way, that Kyle kid was lucky to know what it was like to feel fear. He could fight against it. Most of the other Lanterns learned to fight against that natural feeling too. But Hal, he hadn’t known the feeling, maybe he was too young when his worst fear happened. Parallax found that easy to corrupt.

However, once that ring wrapped around his finger, once both Spectre and Parallax were fully driven from his soul, Hal stopped feeling doubt and vengeance. He knew that he couldn’t fall again. His will was too strong to let, doubt and fear take over again. Spectre wouldn’t save him again.

He knew who and what he was again.

It didn’t bother him that most of the other heroes avoided him. Previously, before Parallax was driven from him, he might’ve lashed out in anger. But he understood that they were afraid of him. He could make that connection with them now.

Ollie was no different to him, but Ollie had been there through most of it.

Hal Jordan didn’t feel fear, but now he understood it.

[elizacornwall]

Vengeance is an Idiot's Game - Chapter 25 - The Spines of America

Read all the published chapters here. -------------------------------------------------- The ride to Emerald Ranch was much longer than anticipated, and although Moonshine’s back was broad enough for Eliza to sit comfortably and hold onto Morgan, her arms had started to cramp by the time they’ve arrived at the farm.

They trotted along the dirt road between cattle pens and arrived at a big green barn where Hosea had told them to meet him; he was in deep conversation with a sketchy looking man. Hosea had told her only briefly about the job they were about to execute, he seemed to like being cryptic and cloud himself in a bit of mystery. Arthur didn’t seem to know much more about it, but he always followed his old friend without question and she trusted him to know Hosea’s skill. “Arthur, Miss Eliza! This is Seamus, he’s our new partner”, he introduced the balding man next to him. “I ain’t no such thing!”, the man interjected, with a defensive gesture. He evidently didn’t want to fix any business relationships yet, and Eliza watched their little spiel with curious interest. Arthur helped her down off the horse and signalled her to wait by his mare, before he approached their potential partner himself. “Let us prove ourselves”, offered Hosea. Arthur interjected. “Prove ourselves? To this clown?”, he pointed at the guy next to his friend and scoffed. The man didn’t appreciate the brashness, even Eliza was surprised at the blunt manner in which he had just addressed the man. The guy turned and started to walk off. “Good day Hosea, good luck with your business dealings.”

Hosea was quick to follow, defending Morgan. Eliza followed Arthur to the bench where he had sat down, finishing the cigarette the stranger had thrown on the floor just moments before. She pulled a face, repelled, but followed his example and took a seat next to him, trying to hear what Hosea was discussing with Seamus. Arthur got called into their conversation and he took Eliza with him. “So you want us to take out the competition?” Hosea asked when they joined them. “Well, he- he’s not just an acquaintance, but a cousin… By marriage. I also wanted to see if you boys got what it takes.” Seamus’ eyes skimmed briefly over Eliza in her breeches. “Now if you survive that…” “Where is he?”, Hosea asked, cutting straight to the chase. “He’s in a farmhouse just northwest of here, called Carmody Dell.” He pointed back into the direction where they came from. “It’s just up the train tracks as you’re heading up towards Fort Wallace. There’s also some money in that house… But that’s your business, not mine. But don’t kill nobody”, he added quickly. “Folks know we ain’t intimate no more and they’ll know it was me.” “But you’re fine with us robbing your cousin?”, Hosea asked, amused. “By marriage”, Seamus replied. “And yes, I’d love it.” Eliza held back a chuckle as Hosea said “You heard the man. Let’s go rob his cousin!” They all turned back to the horses as Seamus added “By marriage!” and at this she couldn’t keep quiet and let out a stifled giggle. Hosea shot her a knowing look, his lips were curled into a smile. They mounted up and rode off towards the farm Seamus mentioned. When they were out of earshot, Hosea turned to Arthur. “Could have played that better, couldn’t you?” “I thought you wanted me there to show some strong arm? That’s usually how it goes”, he replied. “Yes, but… You know how this works!” “Come on Hosea, that feller’s a joke”, Arthur said and shot Eliza a look over his shoulder. She grinned back. “And that’s why he’s perfect! He won’t cause us any problems!” The old man seemed to have planned this turn of events all along, being a step ahead of everyone else on the team. “A safe spot to fence wagons and coaches? That’s easy money for us!” Eliza stayed quiet during the ride until they slowed down and neared their destination. It was a nice quaint little place with one pen of cows, much smaller than Emerald Ranch. It was small enough to be worked by just a single family, she was reminded of her home back in England and felt a stab of pain. After all these years, she still grieved her mother and the life they’ve had. They dismounted between some trees, hidden from anyone that might look in their direction. Hosea passed Eliza a bundle of fabric, which to her surprise turned into a skirt when she opened it. He asked her to put it on. “That barn in the back, stagecoach has to be in there. You and I will perform a little play, Miss Eliza, so Arthur can get in the house and see what else might be of use to us.” She complied and simply slipped the skirt over her head and chest, hiding the trousers underneath. Morgan was scanning the house with his binoculars. “We’ll head over and distract ‘em by putting up a little show while you sneak into the house, find what you can. Then get the stagecoach.” The younger man put his binoculars back in the saddle bag and his glance switched between Hosea and Eliza. “You got a plan for this play?” Eliza answered before he could. “How about we’re travelling uh – travelling chiropractors? It’s the new trend in Iowa, my father told me about lots of apparent charlatans trying to get some quick money with it, could be easy. I know a few treatment practises; I’ve seen Doctor Palmer perform an alignment on my father.” Arthur just stared at her blankly, but Hosea seemed thrilled. “That’s an excellent idea Miss Eliza, you truly are full of surprises. So you met the famous Dr. Palmer? What an honour it must have been, the man’s a genius. A genius I tell you young man!” He slapped Arthur’s back, who seemed to come to his senses and murmured something like an

agreement. “Let’s do it now.” “Alright then”, Hosea replied and offered Eliza his arm. “Don’t follow us! Wait until we have them distracted outside, then sneak into the house.” Eliza hooked under with Hosea and beamed at the man staying behind. “Good luck!” He waved it off, as if to say he didn’t need luck. He was a professional outlaw after all. She felt nervous and the well known twang of shame at the prospect of stealing from an innocent family made itself known in the pit of her stomach. They marched right up to the house, her heart was beating hard in the chest. She had come up with the idea on the spot and had no idea how the old conman usually worked. Thankfully, he took the lead naturally and greeted the young lad sitting on the porch of the house. “My good man! My good young man. Fair thee well! fair thee well. Is your father home son?” “Sure is” The boy eyed them up suspiciously and got caught on Eliza’s chest. She had opened it one button too many to be considered proper, if her mother saw her like this she would have gotten slapped. Her mother wasn’t here anymore though, and the more distraction she could provide, the better. She smiled at him.

“Get him down here please, get him down here.”

The boy could barely rip his eyes from her chest, but at least hadn’t lost all of his wits. “Get lost mister” was all he managed. Hosea, of course, would not. “I was lost!” he shouted, raising his arms towards the sky. “For many years, I was lost, many years. Now I’m not. You know what-“ The door of the house opened and a man in blue dungarees stepped out. “Here he is!”  Eliza let go of Hosea’s arm and addressed the man. “Are you by any chance the father of the house?” He looked grimly at her, not failing to notice her indecently exposed chest. “Sure.” She suppressed a snort. Men were so easy to manipulate. “Pleasure to meet you!” She did a little curtesy. “My good grandfather was just chatting to junior here-“ He cut her off, barking at Hosea. “You selling something partner?” Eliza was annoyed that he wouldn’t even give her as much as a greeting and answered: “We’re not selling anything good man, we’re giving it away. We’re here today to bring you the wonders of-“ “Spinal alignment!”, Hosea jumped in, a wide smile on his lips. “I’ve been saved, I’ve been found! The lord god almighty, or whomever built us, our brain’s in here but our soul is in our backs.” He played out every syllable of every word with the grandeur Eliza had only seen in theatre plays, he truly was an outstanding actor. “You sir, your back looks kinda tricky, and complicated”, he continued, not letting the man come to much word. “the young lady Doctor here can fix that for you! In just ten or fifteen sessions? She’s done wonders on me!” Eliza made sure to nod enthusiastically but kept in the background as it would be expected of a proper lady. “Whiskey suits me fine, Sir”, the man said, giving her a displeased look. He didn’t seem to think a female Doctor would be much good. She cleared her throat and took a step forward, now on the same front as Hosea. “Whiskey is part of what is causing the problems! It may be a short term solution for the pain, but its long term effect on your skeletal system is severe, resulting in possible Hemiplegia, Lumbago, Neuralgia and even Consumption.” This was total nonsense of course, but he didn’t look like he was well read so she took the chance to include some big words to make herself look like she knew what she was talking about. Hosea took the resistant man by the shoulder and guided him down the porch with a polite but firm grip. “You ever meet a scot who didn’t hobble in old age? But the English, I’m sure the lovely lady Doctor will confirm, they stand tall, Sir, and what do they drink? Gin! They drink Gin. And what is Gin made of? Juniper!” He beckoned Eliza to follow, as he led the man a few steps away from the porch, his son close behind. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Morgan slip from behind a tree and towards the house. Deftly done. Hosea was explaining the incredible facts about the different effects Juniper and Grain had on the human body and she had to try her hardest not to break out in laughter. The old man was a master of his craft, and she forgot all her guilt of robbing these people over the joy of watching him work his silver tongue. He got the man to lay on the table and invited Eliza to take over. She recalled what she could from when Dr. Palmer had treated her father and started, bending the man’s knees. Meanwhile, Hosea kept the men’s focus on himself with continued talk. How long would Arthur need to sweep the house? It wasn’t big, but it had more than just one floor, and she had no idea how efficient the outlaw could be in a limited time span. She proceeded to feel up and down his spine, trying to make out any difference but of course she wasn’t trained in this, so nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Eventually, she decided to try and bluff her way through; she stopped over the lower back area and gasped. She pushed lightly on it. “That’s the spot!”, he groaned. She smiled. It wasn’t the spot of course, but the hidden knuckle pressing on the bone in a rather painful way was successful. “Alright sir, this next bit may hurt a little. But rest reassured you will feel

much better after we’re done.” She pressed on different portions of his spine, while Hosea was showering him in affirmations about his granddaughter’s skill and how he had been stiff as a board before she came back from Iowa, where she’d learnt the ways of a chiropractor. Leaning her full weight on the man’s back caused him to push out his breath. She repeated the process slowly in different areas, the boy next to her was transfixed by her heaving chest as she did so. Please don’t look back to the house. She was increasingly nervous, trying to buy some time by mimicking Dr. Palmer’s process as best she could and cycling through the pressure techniques. After a couple more minutes she caught Hosea’s glance, he was still engrossed in the rather one sided conversation with their patient. He nodded at her, barely visible, and she gave the man one last push and sighed with relief, stretching her back that had gotten sore from the hard work she just did. “Now Mister, is this just a little better?”, she asked the man, as he slowly got off the table and back to his feet. “Y-yeah! It’s… It’s a little bit better!”, his voice sounded so astounded that Eliza was again at the verge of losing her mask. What a gullible fool. “A-ha!”, Hosea exclaimed, “What did I say, the child is a true magician. This session has been free, but perhaps we might call again?” “How much will it cost me?” The guy was back to his suspicious self, but his eyes weren’t quite as disregarding this time she thought. “Our rates are reasonable, Mister”, Eliza offered, following Hosea’s slowly retreating steps. "Have a think about it, we’ll be visiting again within a fortnight!” She gave a quick curtsy and Hosea waved them goodbye, slowly marching down the path where they came from. She was shaking with suppressed excitement and laughter, Hosea gave her a wink. When they heard the door shut, he shot a quick glance over his shoulder and pulled her off the path to the right, out of sight from the windows of the house. She had let go of his arm and was shaking in silent laughter, looking up at him as he placed both of his hands on her shoulders. “That was absolutely brilliant, Miss! Absolutely fantastic. Well done.” He winked at her again and pulled her in for a quick hug which she gladly returned. Oh how he reminded her of her late Uncle. “You got a real talent there young lady, I’m so glad we discovered that. Now let’s get to Arthur, he’s waiting in the shed, where I hope he’s found the coach.” They snuck up to the large shed a little way away from the main house of the farm, where Morgan held the door open just enough for them to slip through. Hosea opened the carriage door and helped Eliza up before he took a seat next to Arthur on the box. They drove out and the horses quickly gained full speed. Eliza could hear Hosea and Arthur conversing and laughing, they quickly exchanged the happenings in and outside the house. It didn’t take long until they were back at the green barn of Emerald Ranch, where the coach got parked in. Seamus seemed satisfied with the execution of this job and handed Hosea a stack of bills. They said their goodbyes and turned to Silver Dollar and Moonshine, the two grey horses had followed them all the way. The younger held his hand out to Eliza and pulled her up when she took it. “I hear you’re the next Ada Rehan! Nice work back there.” His compliment made her blush, she was glad he couldn’t see her behind his back. “Thank you. You’ve not done bad yourself I hear!” “Found their stash in the chimney. Fools always think that’s the safest place to hide their tin.” She laughed, enjoying the feeling of a job well done. “I’ll try to remember that!” The guilt she had felt earlier on was much easier to be shrugged off with the knowledge that she had found a skill that would help her contribute to the gang. They rode in a solid canter back over the sweeping plains, and soon she saw the familiar train tracks and the woods behind them. They split the money between them, making sure Hosea had the bit that would go into the lockbox. He

promised to put both their names in with his. Arthur helped Eliza dismount the huge mare and she stuck around to watch him take care of her and ready her for the night. He didn’t ask, but just got on with his work, taking off her saddle and bridle, brushing and feeding her. Eliza noticed a tenderness in his actions and words around Moonshine she never would have believed the man to be capable of. It was obvious that he loved that horse, and the mare returned his affection. It was wonderful to see. He finished his work and joined the girl at the hitching post, observing the horses with her. “We’ll get you on some horse training soon, I promise”, he told her. “And we’ll find ya a horse too.” Eliza smiled. “That would be lovely, but only if you don’t mind. I’m sure Sadie or Lenny could show me too. Or one of the girls.” She didn’t want to be a bother to him, especially since he was always busy doing Dutch’s bidding. She had a feeling their leader wouldn’t take kindly to distractions. “Sure they could.” He looked down at her and adjusted his hat, a sly smile playing on his lips. “But you really wanna be yelled at by that blonde harpy of a woman if you don’t hold the reins proper?”

She burst out in laughter “I guess not! She can be well scary I bet.” “You’d win that one”, he replied, “I’ve seen plenty of ruthless criminals in my years but if I didn’t want one person as my enemy it would be her.” He scratched the stubble on his chin. “She’s got guts and brain in equal measures, but ain’t afraid to storm in without a solid plan. And somehow always makes it out alive, I’ve no idea how she does it. It’s frightening sometimes.” Eliza agreed. “She really is either blessed by Fortuna or incredibly skilled. After what happened in Valentine…. I think both. How she got us out there alive I don’t know.” He was watching her attentively while she spoke, the question clearly written on his face. Eliza noticed and realised he wouldn’t know about that day, he wasn’t in camp. “I’ll tell you another time, it’s quite the story. But now I see Hosea is bragging about me to the girls, I better get over there and remind him that I’m not really his granddaughter Doctor.” He laughed and followed her glance, where Hosea stood in the midst of Tilly, Mary-Beth and Karen, spinning an undoubtedly more exciting tale about the day’s events than what really had happened. Eliza took her leave, not without thanking him again, and joined her friends to attempt some damage control.

[orgonetea]

Nocturnal Animals Film Review

Never, have I seen a more haunting depiction of the psychological perils of romance, and subsequently, malevolent revenge. I would wholeheartedly encourage viewing this film before reading my review.

Nocturnal Animals is the glamorous noir-thriller by the previous Creative Director for Gucci; Tom Ford. Adapted from the 1993 novel ‘Tony and Susan’ By Austin Wright, Nocturnal Animals is a highly stylized and alluring peek into the world of the a wealthy gallery owner; Susan Morrow. It explores the delicacy of human relationships against the test of time and the blurred line between revenge and redemption spectacularly. The film depicts 3 almost separate story lines that are perfectly woven into the present narrative and reality of Susan’s current conflictions. In the present, Susan has a newly-opened art gallery and ears ringing from praise from her fellow peers. As we are introduced to the protagonist, we become more aware of her misery, and subsequent contempt for this feeling because of her recognised position of privilege. When her cheating husband goes away on another ‘business’ trip, Susan receives a manuscript in the post of an upcoming novel by her estranged first husband Edward Sheffield, which is appropriately dedicated and revealed to be titled after his nickname for her; ‘Nocturnal Animals’. The book is a violent portrayal of a road-trip gone wrong, and a life of guilt and hopeful revenge from the father Tony. Beguiled, she spends her whole weekend tossing and turning through its pages. As she delves deeper into the book, Susan unlocks memories of her previous life with Edward, and we watch her, surrounded by her life of comfortability, become mesmerized by her own melancholy and regret for her past actions and current situation.

Ford does an exceptional job of enthralling us into the depression of our protagonist by subsciously giving the audience the impression that everything we witness in frame; directly correlates to the reality of Susan’s present experience and state of mind. The tension created in the beginning scene of the book, where Tony and his family set off on the highway of Texas (a shot that reminds me a lot of Lynch’s ‘Lost Highway’), and become confronted with fear of the unpredictability of three drunk troublemakers, is perfectly executed by the fast paced editing and uncomfortably close shots that mirror the nervousness of Tony and his family. As the tension increases, the length of the shots decrease into a frantic jump from one angle to the next as these young men take it upon themselves to terrorize the family. When Tony gets caught up in a scuffle with the main perpetrator Ray, the camera shakes as if we are experiencing it with them; the audience are not meant to be just bystanders to this story. When the mother and daughter are seen being driven away by these tormenting nocturnal animals, the frame cuts to a close up of Susan’s damp, furrowed forehead, and this is the first obvious indicator that we are living what is going on with her, and not just observing. Every scene gives the impression that something is looming over us (us meaning the viewer and Susan). Another brilliant cinematic illustration of the symbiotic relationship between Susan and the book is when the fate of the mother and child is revealed to us on a striking, bright red sofa surrounded by the dirt and dust of a seemingly abandoned patch of the desert someone once called home. We see this sofa again later in film, where Susan tells Edward that she became bored whilst reading something he had wrote for her. She tells him that he should write about something other than himself; the irony! Who can create something if it doesn’t come from their own personal experience of the world around them? Here we realise that Edward is the romantic idealist, who encourages Susan to pursue a career as an artist, but as we know from her present life, she is bogged down by her own cynicism and pragmatic approach to the art world, and so, becomes a curator instead. She lies awake in bed, we feel her longing and emptiness as she stares into oblivion; only depressed people spend their time absorbed in living out their past life. The green car that Ray and his friends torment Tony’s family in, is also seen in the background when Susan breaks Tony’s heart, saying she does not wish to be with him anymore. Ford is not very subtle with his symbolism, this is superb in making Susan’s perception - and therefore the film-  become a lot more accessible for viewers as it allows us to become more involved in what is going on. These symbols hide in plain sight, which is a reflection of what Susan is doing with her dissatisfaction towards the life she foolish thought would satisfy her more than what she had.

Another startling element that brings this film alive is its eerily poetic colour palette. It is one of the first films that I truly felt my emotions influenced by its dramatic hues. Susan’s world is extremely cold; all the light seems very unnatural and white; this effect makes everyone seem washed out and even frosty in their manner. The modern world is dramaticized; a sleek, futuristic almost black mirror-esque type of elite subculture tucked away in the pristine and intimidatingly white walls of art galleries. It is almost too surreal for us to get our heads around, as it doesn’t feel like it fits into the film at all. I have heard critizations of Ford for this, but I on the contrary believe it fits perfectly into the film as it reflects Susan’s perception of this bubble; it all feeling rather alien and untouchable. The same could be said for the opening scene; as we watch women with an excessive amount of saggy skin prance around, at first glance it has nothing to do with the narrative of the film. But as it turns out, this is the only remote sense of happiness we see in the film (apart from Susan’s earlier memories of Edward) because these women are truly free; free to be themselves and untouched by societal expectations. I believe this is why Susan chose these pieces to open her gallery; on one hand to mock the consumerist culture she herself is guilty of indulging in, but also because she sees something in these women that she lacks so herself; freedom. I believe real beauty can always be found in ‘ugly’ and ugly can always be found in ‘beauty’, and this opening scene encompasses that cleverly. Already, from this scene, we are made to feel a little on the edge of our seats as we come face to face with the ugly, and this ties exquisitely into the complexity of the film.

In contrast to her icy reality, the book and her memories of her relationship with Edward are vibrant with pleasant lime greens, inviting yellow sunlight and hints of prominent, passionate red. Everything depicted in the book is drizzled in a honey hue; the desert reflects the light off its dirty dunes and worn out roads. This derelict wasteland feels far more homely than her darkened, minimalistic wooden furnished home. Her house feels very curated, like everything is hanging there for a reason; specifically the image of a man holding a shotgun to another man who is a few metres in front of him. Another excellent example of foreshadowing that plays with our notion of actuality: as this image is later recreated at the end of Edward’s manuscript. The allure, simplicity and openness of the natural world is divergent to the rigid, dullness of her seemingly inescapable bourgeoisie lifestyle. Her freedom is lived through the imaginary road trips on desolate highways that she’ll never truly experience to its full potential because of her dreary commitments. The fact Ford uses greens like Ray’s car and Susan’s dress at the end, contrasting with the arresting red of the sofa and Susan’s lipstick, displays how opposite these worlds truly are from each other. They are meant to be two extremes, for the sake of Susan feeling so swamped with reality, and so far from this feeling of freedom that she longs for.

I have to admit, the ending brought me to tears. The climax of uncomfortableness got to me in the end. Susan arranges to go to dinner with Edward as he is in town for a few days, and he simply does not show up. We were looking forward to seeing him again, for her sake as well as our own at this point, after watching her put on a lime green dress (the only colourful thing we see her sport), remove her harsh red lipstick and dark eyeshadow, undressing to her old self before realism crushed her spirit. However he served her the iciest revenge imaginable; and far more memorable than any violent act (which would have mirrored Tony’s revenge on Ray). Instead, he killed her with the memory of his kindness; his romantic faith burrowed deep into her recollection. For his vengeance, he wrote a book about himself; about the weaknesses she came to spite him for. In the end that was all he had to say to her. How powerful it was for him to turn the tables, to create something so vivid and raw with profound emotion that stemmed directly from his heartbreak. This ties in with the idea that the best art is made through experiencing immobilising pain, for he has made greatness from the ashes of a broken romance. Whereas Susan, has no way of expressing the emptiness she feels, only fill this emptiness with the expensive artworks of others.  The parallels between the book and the couple’s relationship are slowly and distressingly revealed to us through Susan’s retrospection, making the climax of the film progressively build in intensity; until it becomes too overwhelming. As the restaurant gradually becomes unoccupied, we realise that the seat opposite her will remain empty: just  how she feels inside, just how we feel as the end credits roll up. Such a sinister ending, made heavier by the bewitching soundtrack, scored by Abel Korzeniowski. The movie would not be the same without this hauntingly romantic stroking of piano keys and passionate caressment of string instruments. The music is lonely, magical; bringing a sense of nostalgia paired with the unknowing of where it derives from. My favourite has to be ‘The Fields’, which plays in the background when Tony finds his wife and daughter on that bloodshot sofa. Waves of heartache crash over me, a shiver shoots down my spine as the goosebumps engulf me. It feels like a stab in the chest, one so beautiful it makes it hard to induce tears. My second favourite being  ‘Table for Two’, which accompanies the scene where Susan is stood up in the restaurant. It is the sound of longing for something we don’t even know that we want. It is like waving goodbye to someone you love dearly; it’s torment matched meticulously with the content of the frame. The pairing of music and visual narrative is one of the most compelling sensory and emotional ordeals of human experience. Korzeniowski’s auditory description being a perfect alliance to Ford’s striking cinematic language. I find it hard to imagine one without the other where this film is concerned.

A true artist knows how to manipulate his audience, and here, Ford has not fallen short. It truly is a modern pictorial masterpiece that I could watch time and time again, and its significance would not fall short. I was moved deeply by this story, and its lingering portrayal of delicacy of human relationships will continue to haunt me.

I have chosen to write about this film because I feel that Edward and Susan are the personification of the confliction I face with my own duality as an artist. On one hand, I am passionate, sensitive and overflowing with creativity, much like Edward’s character. Whilst on the other, I consider myself almost too analytical and cynical about my own creations to consider myself so. I think this is something that all creatives are plagued with, and what differentiates us is our belief, or lack of.