#tried to make her harmoniously greenish | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cybrsan · 8 months

Text

Treasure — J.WY [Pt.6]

SUMMARY: While both you and Wooyoung struggle to come to terms with your feelings, you finally reach your destination.

PAIRING: Waterbender Jung Wooyoung x Non-Bender F!Reader

RATING/GENRE: M ; angst, fluff, eventual smut ; ATLA au, enemies to lovers

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

WARNINGS: Slight gore, mentions of needles/suturing, blood

LINKS: Ode To ATEEZ Masterlist | Together in Harmony Masterlist | Cross-posted on AO3 and Wattpad

↞ Previous | Masterlist | Next ↠

"Hurry, I need a healing station set up, stat! Get me clean cloth, bandages, a suturing kit, a blanket to lay her down on, and as much water as we can spare!"

Everyone scurries about the hastily set up camp, working in tandem as Wooyoung shouts out orders. He holds you in his arms, your blood soaking the front of his robes. He tries not to focus on the warmth of it, the uncomfortable way it sticks to his skin. There's too much. How can someone even hold this much blood?

San sets down a thick blanket in front of him, and Wooyoung gently places you on it, cringing when he sees how all the color has drained from your face. He doesn't waste any time getting to work, grabbing the suturing kit from Seonghwa's extended hand.

"You can't just use your bending?" Mingi asks. Wooyoung notices the slight greenish tint to his skin, but can't find it in himself to care at the moment.

"Her wound is too deep. Bending alone won't save her, not even mine. Now go make yourself useful before you puke everywhere. Set up a wall around us to keep out the elements."

Mingi does as asked, even though he must already be exhausted from the earlier fight. A half-moon wall of hardened dirt and sand surrounds the healing station, and Wooyoung works as fast as he can to stitch up your arm wound. Even he feels slightly sick when he notices the telltale white of bone sticking out amongst the gore, and he has to take a few breaks to stop his hands from shaking.

Once he's done suturing, he opens the pouch of water he keeps at his hip. He knows that it likely won't be enough, but he'll use all of his own supply first before touching anyone else's. He swirls it between his hands for a moment and, once it begins to glow, lowers his hands so that it hovers over the entirety of your wound. He watches as the wound heals, the stitches dissolving almost instantaneously as all that is left is a raised, white scar.

Though he's drained from both the fight earlier and the healing he's already done, he knows that he can't stop here. Not only have you lost too much blood, but he's almost certain you hit your head on your way down; he needs to use Wavesong to make sure that you're going to wake up. Taking some more water, he covers you in a thin layer of it, encasing you in it like a cocoon. He then stands, takes a deep, grounding breath, and begins to move.

In his home tribe, people used to love watching him perform Wavesong. It's like a dance, though to music only he can hear. The water sings to him, and it's a different song for each patient he works on, helping him perfectly adapt his technique. It's all about the connection between water, life, and the human spirit. The water's vibrational energy courses through the body, connecting with the heart. It's as if it becomes an extension of the circulatory system, a liquid bridge between the elements and the very core of a patient's being.

He raises his arms above his head and begins to move his hands in graceful arches and circles. Eventually, the water begins to glow and vibrate in time with the beat of your heart. It's working, but not fast enough for his liking. He can feel your weakness through the bond his bending has created between you, and it makes his own blood run cold. He knows that if he isn't successful, you might never wake up. Sweat beads at his brow and he feels shaky on his feet, but he won't stop. Not until you're better.

Yeosang stops by with dinner, encouraging Wooyoung to eat a few bites to regain at least a bit of his energy, but he refuses. If he stops the dance, the connection will be severed, and there's no guarantee that he'll be able to use Wavesong on you again. He continues throughout the night, until his body becomes numb, until all he can feel is the vibration of your heart, until he's not sure where he ends and you begin. And then finally, finally, he feels it.

His Wavesong reaches its crescendo. He can feel the energy flow into you entirely, soothing you, mending you from the inside. He feels your heartbeat inside his own chest, a steady thump. Thump. Thump. He falls to his knees beside you, the water sinking into the ground below.

"Tid'qan'uun, kinyue tok," are the last words he whispers before the world fades to black.

It's been days since the fight, and things have finally started to go back to normal. When you first woke up, you felt better than you had in years, as if new life had been breathed into your very being. Wooyoung has been stuck to you like glue since, and you still sometimes catch him and the others looking at you like they've seen a ghost. No one will tell you how bad things really were, and you aren't sure you want to know.

Wooyoung grabs your hand, gently pulling you out of the way of a scuttling sand crab. When he lets go, he keeps his hand near yours, his pinky occasionally brushing against your own.

"Wooyoung, I'm fine," you say, rolling your eyes lightheartedly. "A sand crab won't kill me. Their claws barely pinch."

"I know."

He says this but doesn't move, still hovering, ready to pull you out of harm's way at a moment's notice. It's funny to think that he once barely tolerated your presence, and now he almost craves physical contact as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he isn't careful.

This new bond you have with him, while surprising, isn't unwelcome. You can't deny that you feel something for him or that you have begun to feel at home with this group of benders. You have risked your life for them, and they for you, and that isn't something you take lightly. You haven't forgotten your mission, your fight for your freedom, but you're in this with them now. You have similar goals, and you're going to help them find what they need. And who knows, maybe after…

Your stomach sinks with anxiety, and before you can second guess yourself, you tentatively reach out and twine your pinky with Wooyoung's. You don't dare look at him, but you hear him inhale sharply. Then, he moves his hand, intertwining his fingers with your own more securely. A wave of relief washes over you. It's such a small gesture, but it feels nice. Safe.

After. What will happen after you're free? It isn't a question you have given yourself a lot of time to consider. For a while, you didn't even think you would have a future. But now, you find yourself hoping that maybe you could stay with them. With him.

The decision might be easier to make if you knew exactly how Wooyoung felt about you. Obviously things have changed between you, you've gotten closer, but why? You know he healed you, even though the how is something you still aren't entirely sure of. He told you about his ability, but you imagine it would be hard for anyone to grasp without seeing it for themself. Is it because of that he now feels closer to you? Are you just a patient, another member of the group that he feels responsible for? Or is it something more?

You don't know if he would even want you to stay. That first night, he only opened up to you because you were like a stranger to him, someone he could share his secrets with, knowing he would eventually never have to see you again.

You risk a glance at him now, studying his profile—his strong nose, golden skin, long lashes that shadow his eyes. He's staring at San and Yeosang with a fond smile on his face, watching as the firebender clumsily fails at his attempts to give the airbender a kiss on the cheek.

He notices you staring and turns toward you, quirking an eyebrow. "Enjoying the view?"

Your heart skips a beat, and you look away hurriedly. "I thought you had something on your face, that's all."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"Ugliness."

"Ha-ha," he laughs monotonously. "You sure know how to make a guy feel special."

"It's a part of my charm."

"What charm?"

You stick out your tongue at him, and he rolls his eyes. Even as you continue to bicker, he doesn't let go of your hand; occasionally, he squeezes it gently, and you squeeze back. You decide you'll stop worrying about the "what-ifs" for now. You're just going to enjoy whatever this is while you still have it.

The sun is high in the sky now, beating down mercilessly on the group. Beads of sweat drip down Wooyoung's face and disappear into the neckline of his robes. He wipes at his forehead with the back of his hand, cringing a little at the amount of moisture that comes away from his skin.

He reaches for the water pouch hanging at his hip, frowning slightly when he feels how light it is. He'll have to be careful with how much he drinks—not only is it unlikely they'll find an oasis anytime soon, but there hasn't even been much moisture in the air for him to bend and turn into drinkable water.

He cools it down before taking a small sip, relishing in the temporary relief it provides. He goes to put it back but then hesitates, looking at you. He can tell the sun and the heat are getting to you as well, with the way your skin is flushed and your steps seem heavy.

"Here," he says, holding the pouch out to you. "It's cold."

You take it from him with a smile and a murmur of gratitude. He nods, trying to hide the depth of his concern and the way his heart seems to skip a beat when your fingers brush against his own. He tucks the pouch back on his hip, his gaze lingering on you a moment before turning away. He wants to hold your hand again. Damn.

His growing feelings for you are beginning to worry him. It's one thing to be friendly with you, and it's another thing entirely to want something more. He's still haunted by his visions, each one only worsening the feeling of dread that seems to permanently reside within him. The logical thing for him to do would be to distance himself from you again, to be just nice enough that he doesn't cause problems, and to stay ready and alert for what the future will surely bring. But when he saw you fall? Nal'ich. The last time he felt fear like that was when he saw Hongjoong being dragged out of the council room by Fire Nation guards.

Guilt twists his stomach into knots at the memory. He needs to help Hongjoong find the Cromer. It's the only hope he has that things will ever be able to return to normal, that his visions will once again be able to help and not harm. The only hope that Hongjoong will ever look at him again with warmth and affection in his eyes, instead of burning hatred. The only hope that the eight of them can be as close and happy as they once were. And he can't let you, or his feelings for you, prevent him from doing that.

"You okay?" you ask softly, breaking through his thoughts.

Your voice instantly soothes some of his worries. He’s found comfort in it ever since that one night after the storm. It might not be smart to give into his feelings for you, but he’ll at least do what he can to help you achieve your freedom. And maybe, just maybe, you can actually find a way to help him alter fate, and his visions won’t come true. Then there might be a future for him that also includes you.

"I'm fine," he replies before quickly switching the topic in order to get the attention off of himself. "You don't look so good. I'll talk to Seonghwa, tell him we need to take a break—"

"We're here."

Hongjoong's announcement stops everyone in their tracks. Wooyoung looks around at the vast emptiness of the desert, the dunes that look no different from the countless ones the group has already passed, and before he can voice his confusion, Jongho beats him to it.

"Are you sure about that? I don't see anything."

"Look at that rock wall in the distance." Wooyoung looks to where Hongjoong points, spotting a small structure dotting the horizon. He would have never noticed it himself. "You see the way it shines? It's partly made of quartz. It looks exactly like the marker on the map, and the library is located 4 to 5 kilometers south of it. That's approximately where we are."

You pull out the map and frown. "He's right, it should be here."

"Maybe the map isn't entirely accurate," Yunho offers.

"It has to be!" Hongjoong clenches his compass so tightly his knuckles turn white. Seonghwa fidgets nervously next to him as if unsure whether he should reach out and comfort him or not. "Failure is not an option."

Hongjoong's anger makes Wooyoung's hair stand on end, and he subconsciously takes a few steps back. A click sounds from under his right foot.

"Uh… guys?"

The ground begins to shift and crack beneath his feet, and he jumps out of the way, immediately grabbing your arm and pulling you along with him. Primal fear shoots through him as he thinks back to the sandwyrm, and he hopes that he didn't just stumble into a trap that will force them to face another. Luckily, instead of a monster, a strange tower of stone rises from beneath the sand in a rush of sand and noise. Everyone ducks and shields themselves, and then, after a moment, the earth stills and it's silent once again.

Wooyoung is still holding onto you, and though there seems to be no danger, his heart continues to pound in his chest. You've grabbed his shirt, knuckles turning white with the severity of your grip. He's acutely aware of how close you are to him and of the tremors that rack your frame. Without giving it a second thought, he wraps his arms around you, cooing softly and murmuring reassurances.

"It's okay," he whispers. "I've got you."

His words seem to help because you slowly release your hold on his shirt and take a shaky step back. You don't meet his eyes, instead taking in the newly formed tower with a knowing look.

"It's the elemental lock," you say softly. "The library will reveal itself only after all four elements merge into one."

Hongjoong steps forward, squinting up at the monolith. It's covered in intricate carvings, symbols of fire, earth, air, and water arranged in an elaborate swirling pattern, with four openings at different spots on the sides of the structure.

"It seems simple enough," he declares, and then he crooks one of his fingers, calling the group forward.

After a few moments of deliberation, they've decided on a plan of action. On Yunho's count, four of them will send their bending through the openings in the hope that the synchronized rush of elements will unlock the entrance to Pandora. Wooyoung watches as they each move to their respective positions—Hongjoong with fire, Yeosang with air, Mingi with earth, and Seonghwa with water.

"One," Yunho begins.

Wooyoung can't help but hold his breath. His heart thumps loudly in his ears, beat syncing with the count.

"Two."

The four benders tense, readying themselves. Mingi is practically vibrating with energy, sand and stone rising into the air around him. Seonghwa pulls a stream of water out of his pouch, the liquid coiling around his arms like a living being. Yeosang takes a deep breath, his hair blowing every which way as wind swirls around him. And Hongjoong looks as though he has become the embodiment of fire himself, ferocity burning in his eyes as flames lick at his fingertips.

"Three."

As the elements enter the stone, the glyphs start to glow, first faintly, then slowly intensifying into a blinding light that forces everyone to avert their eyes. The ground shifts again, and Wooyoung almost loses his balance as the monolith begins to rise even higher, revealing that it has been part of the library all along. Everyone is forced to back up as the gargantuan building rises, greeting the sun for no doubt the first time in decades, if not centuries.

Wooyoung lets go of the breath he was holding, staring at Pandora in awe. It's beautiful, in an ancient, mythical sort of way. Much like the monolith, its walls are carved with hundreds of symbols. They seem to depict events in history that Wooyoung has never even heard of, a testament to the knowledge waiting within. An enormous door, undoubtedly the entrance, creaks open on its own as if calling them inside.

"We made it," you breathe out, the disbelief in your voice echoing Wooyoung's own.

Hongjoong barely hesitates, immediately charging forward, his face set with determination.

"Joong, wait," San calls out, but he's already halfway inside.

"Guess we're doing this." Mingi's voice trembles slightly, and he has a death grip on Yunho's arm. There's no doubt that he's fearful of what might be awaiting them; Wooyoung is sure they all are to some extent, except for Hongjoong. And maybe you, considering you're the second one to head inside.

With a sigh, Wooyoung rushes after the both of you, hoping with everything that he has that this won't all go horribly wrong.

NETWORKS: @cromernet @kflixnet @pirateeznet

TAGLIST: @nebulousbookshelf @ad0rechuu @seonghwaddict @sanniesbunnie @wooya1224 @tournesol155 @ja3hwa @pocketjoong-reads @lovandr @yeoyeoland @huachengsbestie01 @baeksofty @deltamoon666 @yessa-vie

#wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung fic #wooyoung smut #wooyoung angst #wooyoung fluff #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez fic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #wooyoung scenarios #my fic #kpop fic #kpop imagines #jung wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung angst

107 notes · View notes

singsfromthesoul · 3 years

Text

Inky Holiday Exchange

Breaking my ‘no posting, only lurking’ streak of over a year on this blog because I have a gift for @incorrect-inkworld-quotes (surprise, it was me all along!) as a part of the @inkyholidayexchange. You mentioned being interested in the natural beauty of the Inkworld so I tried doing something a little different than what I usually write. Did I make make a water nymph sentient? Maybe??? I hope that doesn’t make me an Orpheus! You’re a great mod for us over on discord and I hope you enjoy this little drabble. Happy holidays!

From the depths

The pond was her whole world.

Cool, greenish waters were all that she had known and all that she had ever desired. Outside, the world of the humans was of little consequence to her. Leaves fell from trees and grass changed to frost, yet in the stillness of her pool the world remained relatively unchanged. She had never desired to leave the waters, but still she enjoyed watching the humans through the distorted lens of the water.

Sometimes, they were loud and joyful. A group of them had come through on some occasion with their brightly colored fabrics and loud voices, settling nearby. They hadn’t disturbed her pool, and in the night she had heard voices turn to melodies as the fire began to burn low. Above her, the lights of the sky had twinkled and she had let herself float as she tried to take in the music sung in a language she barely understood.

Sometimes, they were harsh and angry. A group of humans had gone past, riding the great beasts they had tamed. They had carried flames on pieces of wood that had likely been a tree once and shouted at one another about things she could never hope to understand. In their other hands, they had carried a long piece of material that glinted in the sun and she had wondered what it was for until one ran it through the body of the other and left him where he fell. She had retreated to the depths of the water that time, putting as much distance as she could between herself and the world of humans.

It was a rare occasion when someone approached the pool where she and her sisters lived, but one day a man did. He emerged from the forest quite suddenly and walked up to the pond slowly before kneeling at the water’s edge. Three pale lines ran down a face that seemed to contrast the harshness of such marks. Softly, the man explained that he had a request, something that he was trying to acquire in the surrounding areas of the forest. Something that he needed her help with.

No human had ever asked anything of her before. She dove deeper into the pool, in search of her sisters. She found them among the rocks, bubbles floating around their heads as they laughed. Quickly, she relayed the man’s request and watched as their black and gold eyes filled with interest. Her eldest sister quickly made for the surface, followed by the other and she was left with nothing to do but follow them both back to the surface.

With more bubbles of laughter, they lifted their arms above the water’s surface and ran their hands over his arms, face and neck, leaving behind a filmy deposit that glinted in the morning sun. She had never felt the sun directly on her skin. It seemed odd to her, but soon realized she was simply unused to the warmth of it.

With a small smile on his face, the man whispered his thanks and was on his way. She was left to look up at the sky again.

Sometimes, she saw other creatures. Little ones, with blue skin and chittering voices that chased one another and sometimes hovered over the surface as if hoping to see what lay below it. Other creatures went by her pool too. Large ones that only emerged at night and blended with the shadows, yellow eyes that peered out from the leaves, rustling sounds and howling so terrible it made her flee to the depths of the pool with the hope that the water would muffle the sounds.

All were part of the harmony of the forest. She knew she would not trade it for anything. Not the way the summer sun would warm the pool, nor the view of the forest as the dreary fall rain turned to crisp winter white. Definitely not the spring flowers that danced on the breeze before landing on the water’s surface, or the rare sights of fire elves and glass men.

Not the bubbles of her sisters’ laughter rising up to the surface, or the way the bottom of the pool shone on nights when the moon was full.

She knew she would miss it too much.

#InkyHolidayExchange2021 #Inkworld #inkheart #Cornelia Funke #how sentient are water nymphs? does anyone know?#how much do they know about the human world? fun questions I don’t know how to answer and yet I wrote this #I’m down to elaborate more so let me know if you’re interested!

30 notes · View notes

familylightfox · 3 years

Text

If there was one thing that Harmony had never to expect to do, it was argue with her father as she had the last few nights. Their constant back and forth had started to wear on them both. So much so, that the preteen had left the room they had been staying in to spend the night sleeping under the stars.

By morning, she’d come back inside to try one more time to talk her father into doing what was best for him. She made her way into the workshop and found him sitting on the same metal stool as he always did.

She hadn’t been expecting him to be carefully taking the filtration mask from Augustus.

“Daddy?” Just one word was enough for Volt to pause his movements and look over to her. The dark circles under his eyes showing the lack of sleep all the pain had been causing him. Yet, even still, he offered her a pained smile before turning back to take the mask.

“I thought about what you said pumpkin… You’re right.” Cybernetic fingers held the device carefully as he stood from the chair. The first few unsteady steps came with caution to both Augustus and Harmony as they went to reach out. Volt smiled and made his way to the back of the workshop. Violet eyes lifted from the floor and took in the sight of the chamber ahead of him.

Every nightmare he ever had involved the very machine in front of him. The horrors of being completely unaware of what was going on around him, frozen in time until he was released… If he was released. It still made his blood run cold as he stared at it. But he still took the last few steps towards it as Tails had just finished the last hookups they needed for it to be undisturbed for the unforeseen future. Off went his boots and only a few more steps put him on the center of the platform.

Now he turned to face his daughter, giving her a smile. “You’ve grown so much Harmony… I’m proud of you.”

“Daddy…” Despite herself, Harmony had stepped forward and went to reach out. All Volt could do was raise his hand to stop her,dropping the filtration mask to the ground in the process.

Cybernetic fingers hesitated, looking to Augustus and Tails for the nod. The already metal limb had been tested enough that he could safely interact with everyone with it, but he hardly wanted to risk more if he could help it. Once he had the confirmation, those same metal fingers gently reached into his daughter’s bangs to brush them out of her tear filled eyes.

“I need you to be strong, okay. Do what you do best and show Eggman hahah he made a mistake of messing with the Freedom Fighters… with us… okay?” He brushed her bangs one more time before taking the mask again when she bent down to grab it. Their eyes met in that moment, Volt’s own filling with tears despite his best effort.

“I will daddy.” Harmony could feel her eyes starting to sting as she tried to keep her face from scrunching up. Watching as the filtration mask was secured onto his face by his cybernetic, then allowed the prosthetic limb to be removed by Augustus. At least this way there wouldn’t be a potential damage to it as he slept.

As the chamber itself began to close, Volt smiled once more behind his mask. “Love you pumpkin Give ‘em hell.”

The door shut, sealing with a hiss as a greenish fluid filled the tube. It started from Volt’s feet and the further it went, the more Volt’s eyes had begun to drift closed. It lifted him halfway before settling him in the spot where he seemed to float freely, yet nothing moved.

Silence fell on the room, not a sound. Even from the machines keeping tabs on the hybrid inside. The only thing to break the silence was a hiccup. That one hiccup become a second and Harmony moved forward again. Her hands reaching up to touch the glass as her tears finally spilled down her cheeks. If not for Augustus catching her fingers and pulling her into a hug, she would have held to the chamber. Instead she buried her face into the canine’s magenta sweater, her wails echoing in the room and out into the hallway.

“Let it out kleiner flaume. Don’t hold it in.” His fingers combed Harmony’s raised quills carefully. “Your papa is safe und ve vill not stop until ve find ze cure. I promise.”

“I promise too Harmony. We’re going to do everything we can to fix this mess Eggman’s put us in. So do you think you can do me a favor and punch him for me when you guys find him.” Tails made an attempt to lighten the mood, frowning at the hiccup that was muffled around the heavy sweater but he still spotted the subtle nod. Although he really hadn’t been expecting the response that followed.

“I’m gonna do more than punch ‘im if I get my hands on him… But he’s gonna wish he ain’t never messed with us.”

“Zat’s ze spirit kleiner flaume… Now, let us get some food. I heard your Antoine vas making pancakes zis morning.” With a little coaxing, the two canines were able to coax Harmony out of the room. A handkerchief was offered and Harmony used it to wipe her face before they made their way into the kitchen area. The preteen avoided some of the concerned gazes and took a seat on one of the nearby stools. Thankfully she was willing to eat the plate set in front of her, pausing only long enough to look up at Sally.

“I’m gonna call some of our friends and see if they’ll come wit me t’ check out some of the places we haven’t looked fer Eggman at, oki?”

“Promise me you’ll call us in if you find him and not try to solo him.” Sally’s only stipulation got a nod from the preteen, the forced smile seemed so out of her place on her face as she tried to crack a joke.

“I ain’t completely like Sonic… I know better than t’ punch Eggman’s nose in on my own.” The small tail wag didn’t help either. “But I ain��t holdin’ back no more.”

“Just don’t blow anything up like your uncle…”

“No promises.”

#Journal Page: Queue #Traveling The Multiverse: IC #Mobius Event: Infection #IC Update

3 notes · View notes

lowrollshighhopes · 4 years

Text

Sunland Episode Fifty-Seven: Tranorin

The party followed the path to the Spectral Palace, a place they had been told they could safely rest. However, the path soon vanished as the trees started growing close, their vast trunks making the way forward almost impossible.

Cam cast speak with plants and was surprised to find these trees were quite used to being spoken to and glad she'd done so. They warned her that Tranorin had ordered them to force the party to a location of his choosing for a showdown, and the trees were obliged to obey, although they knew of the good deeds the party had done in the forest and did not wish to see them harmed.

There was nothing for it but to walk into Tranorin's trap, but they were forewarned and the trees placed a treant on the path just before to give them a nod when they approached the fey.

Harmony heard Euphoria's voice in his head, via message spell, and was informed that Tranorin had been exiled for cheating at a game, and that Ezorfiel had more or less forgotten about him and the whole thing.

Tranorin turned out to be a pale, miserable looking elf in pale greenish robes, and his trap of choice was a vast arena ringed with trees. As soon as the party stepped in they realised the plant life on the forest floor had been magically affected and they could only move at a snail's pace.

Tranorin had summoned his archers, who remained high in the trees, and he did not listen to Hope's last attempt to use diplomacy.

But some of the elves did. Ludan appeared, without weapons, and although Tranorin attempted to humiliate him by reminding him he'd been charmed by a fragrant one, he still argued that the party should be allowed to pass, as they had proven themselves allies of those who lived in the forest.

The elves lowered their weapons. Tranorin looked unimpressed and the party realised he was determined to deal with them himself. He had positioned himself at a safe distance from the party prepared to plaster them with spells while they laboured through the undergrowth. Hope charged forward, and Cam took elemental form, gliding through the soil beneath.

Tranorin summoned hailstones to make the path even harder, and Harmony dispelled his plants. Hope now better able to close in with Gabe, he tried again, and Harmony frustrated him with counterspell.

From the forest behind them, two huge, black beasts, with wings and a heavy, barbed tail leaped on George and Harmony. George was able to dodge most of its attacks, but Harmony was savaged by the creature.

With Hope closing in, Tranorin took to the air in elemental form and Cam resurfaced beside Hope, to chuck a couple of rocks at him, to no avail.

Tranorin descended to attack in his elemental form, but Hope withstood the comparatively weak blows of the air elemental, and got some return hits in herself.

Tranorin commanded one of the beasts to help him, and with Harmony unconscious George moved to engage the other, drawing its attacks and darting in to feed the bard potions.

Hope and Cam engaged the beast, Gabe disappearing, and Tranorin retreated again, dropping his form to cast sunbeam on the group. All three, including the beast, were momentarily blinded, but Hope was not deterred.

Wounded, the beast had had enough, and blundered away, while Cam's tremor sense let her keep her bearings. They pursued Tranorin, who readied another sunbeam, but Hope finally had him within sword reach, and wasn't deterred. This time, they resisted the blindness, and Tranorin realised he was trapped. He offered to let them go freely, one last attempt to save face, but Hope knew he would probably still take out his emotions on the rest of the forest; they could do better than merely pushing past him.

Hope mentioned the cheating and Tranorin flinched; she had struck a nerve. She told him she knew he had to love Ezorfiel very much and Tranorin's slightly puzzled response was, "You've met him. Don't you?"

Hope did not, but she was diplomatic about it, and suggested that he needed to apologise, although he was afraid Ezorfiel would laugh at him for doing so, and that his pride was not worth all this misery.

Tranorin asked for proof of their story, and Hope produced the bird, and then healed Tranorin a little. Salvaging some of his dignity; he healed her back a lot, and called off the remaining beast. He also healed Harmony, who nodded thanks.

They were free to go, leaving Tranorin behind as the forest reshaped itself into its natural configuration. It seemed much less gloomy already, and several elves came up to thank them, and were able to tell them that the Spectral Palace was close.

They took a short rest, and soon saw the transparent, ghostly spires of a castle, and the forest thinned out, giving them glimpses of an ocean beyond, and a deep red glow on the horizon.

#lrhh: sunland #lrhh

4 notes · View notes

mimiswitchywrites · 3 years

Text

Not A Burden: Chapter 12

TW: SH references, S*x**l a****lt near the beginning

Period typical h***ph**ia and internalised, alcohol mentions?

Master list or read on AO3

5.8k words (I'm so sorry, it wasn't meant to be this long)

If you want to be tagged for updates, message me or comment!

--------------

The sun was beginning to fall behind the tree line, and she still hadn’t found the tavern, electing to ask a passing guard. He looked her up and down for a minute, before pointing down the path and saying to take a right at the cart with the cabbages.

She arrived, mind still looping. The tavern was humming with chatter inside – hopefully good chatter – and the street glowed from the light of the candles. It was quite beautiful, she thought.

She stepped forward to open the door, hopped back as a large man stormed out - scowling - and then dashed inside before the door slammed shut again.

There was a long work top spanning half the room, with two men and a grinning maiden behind serving out tankards. Tables lined the walls with long benches, all covered with various states of intoxicated patrons.

Miriam approached the bar, eyes locked on a greenish tile behind the maiden – not wanting to interact with any of the drunk men brawling on the table closest to her. She hopped on one of the stools, feet dangling. She smiled at the lady as she came over to serve her, head darting around the room at a loud crash behind her. “Hey there, love, what can I do you for?” The woman – slightly taller than Miriam – asked with a sympathetic tone. Her eyes were soft, sensing Miriam’s discomfort at the chaotic crowd.

“A tankard of your strongest stuff, please.”

The maiden nodded in response, finding a mug, and wiping the inside with the apron tied around her waist. She dropped the mug into a bucket of liquid and dried the edges, placing it in front of Miriam with another curt bow of the head.

Miriam hummed her thanks, hands gripping the tankard. The liquid was brown and smelt putrid, but she smiled at her reflection on the surface. It tasted vile, she noted with a grimace, but, as the warmth spread through her body, she knew it would do the trick.

She had her head tipped back, fishing for the last drops of the ale when he sat next to her. He was a big, burly man, with the bottom of his hairy stomach peering out from under his sained shirt. He smelt terrible – Miriam could practically taste his aroma, even with her drink so close to her nose – but he didn’t seem to care. He lent forward in his seat, elbows on knees, barely a hands length from Miriam. She placed her empty tankard on the bar in front of her and turned to him. He smiled, teeth crooked and blackened. She could see a string of meat stuck in between his front two.

“’ello bird.” He sneered – smiled? At her, hand landing on her thigh.

She shuffled sideways as much as she could, face concealing her immense discomfort.

“Good evening, sir.”

“I ain’t no ‘sir’.” He stood, arms coming to either side of her – trapping her in her seat. “But,” a grimy finger came up to her cheek, “I could preten’ to be, if tha’s what you’re after?”

She lent as far back into the bar as she could, arms pulling around her chest in a feeble attempt at protection.

A hand – a clean one, this time – landed on the fat man’s shoulder. He was pulled round to face the newcomer, shoulders squaring in preparation.

“Hands off the lass.” Miriam recognised the gravely voice, struggling to place it. Her eyes were too blurred with tears to put together his face.

“Or what? You paid for her already?” Miriam hated the way her skin crawled as his hand found the inside of her thigh. With a deep breath – shaking – she pushed it away and slid off the stool.

He swung round, face ablaze.

The new man grabbed his forearm before he could touch her again and pinned it behind his back. He pushed the man against the worktop – breath knocked out of him. “Or I’ll report you to the King. Hand’s off, by order of Sir Gwaine: Knight of Camelot.”

Miriam’s eye’s cleared long enough to see the vile mans face drop, blood draining. Sir Gwaine let him go and watched as he backed out of the Tavern, fear struck. Gwaine tossed a coin onto the bar, waving one of the male servers down, “Two ales please, Henry.”

The server – Henry – nodded, face drawn in concern for the knight that was swaying slightly. He placed the drinks down in front of them and turned to a patron calling him from the other end of the bar.

Gwaine took his tankard, downing half of it in one gulp before looking at Miriam. She was shaking, eyes glossy, but analysing him. “Gwaine. I was with Merlin when we found you.” Her mouth dropped, eyes widening in realisation. She let out a soft “oh” in acknowledgment.

With hesitation, she lifted herself back onto the stool and sat forward again. She took a sip of the ale, made a bitter face, and took another.

“Are you alright? Would you like me to walk you home?” He was facing her again, face shrouded in empathy with a slight haze from the drinking. She shook her head, nodding to her tankard.

“I just need to drink, preferably without anymore creeps interrupting.” He barked a laugh at that, throwing his drink back again, and she felt her face warm. “So, Sir Gwaine: Knight of Camelot,” he rolled his eyes, chuckling, “may I ask what brings you here tonight.”

“Aye, you can, but whether or not I’ll answer is something entirely different,” He stood, reaching out a hand to her, “but first, would you care to dance?” There was a group of men and two women at the back of the tavern creating music. They were singing, one man had a crumhorn, another a lute, and the last two were tapping on the wood of the chairs beneath them. The women’s voices carried across the whole room in beautiful harmony. They danced together, skirts billowing around them, and, one by one, others from the crowd joined in. Men and women, sons and daughters, strangers, all took each other’s arms and span and laughed and sang together. Smile working its way onto her face, Miriam nodded, taking Gwaine’s extended hand.

She didn’t consider herself much of a dancer – never really having the opportunity to learn – but here, dancing with this man she hardly knew, she felt right. They stumbled and fell against each other, stopping their spins every so often as they got too dizzy, and they laughed. Oh, how they laughed. Years of sadness lifted from both their faces, leaving them youthful once again.

By the time they stopped – music slowing down too much for their liking – they were red faced and the world continued spinning without them. They stumbled over to one of the cushioned seats at the side of the room – a large table in front of it – and sprawled onto it, in hysterics. Their drinks (fresh ones they had picked up from Henry before wading through the room) spilled onto the table slightly, prompting another burst of laughter.

After a few gasped attempts at calming down, they shuffled so they were sat up, leaning against each other for support. Gwaine’s hair fell across his face, stuck to the sweat on his forehead and neck. Miriam’s was still tied from work but falling from its leather string in segments.

“You know,” Miriam’s words were more slurred than she had expected; Gwaine snorted at her shocked expression which resulted in him receiving a gentle slap on the shoulder, “When we first met, I dreamt about you.”

His brows shot up, mind too fuzzy to decide between making a sexual remark and asking for more info and so he just sat, expressions rotating over his face until she continued. “Your hair, specifically.” She leant forward, peeling it from his face and running her hands through the tangles. He turned away from her to give her easier access. “I dreamt I was plaiting daisies into it. You have beautiful hair, Sir Gwaine.”

He turned his head to talk to her, “You know, you don’t actually have to call me Sir each time. ‘Gwaine’ is okay.”

Her mouth dropped open at this revelation; he laughed again and turned back to the front.

“Do you frequently dream of plaiting strangers’ hair?” He was genuinely curious but chuckled as he asked.

She shook her head, realised he couldn’t see, and then replied, “No, not often. But you do have very nice hair.” She nodded to herself and took a deep swig of her drink, spluttering slightly at the taste. Gwaine copied, only barely grimacing.

Gwaine enjoyed the feel of the girl’s fingers running through his hair. They sat like that for another twenty minutes at least – exchanging odd thoughts every so often but generally just enjoying the others company. He wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing, head too tingly to place where each strand of hair was going, but it was relaxing, and he could feel his eyelids growing heavy.

He finished his drink, waving Henry over for another, and went back to sipping on the ale. The Rising Sun was by far the best Inn in Camelot, but they had truly vile alcohol. It did the job though, and that was all the Knight was after. Until Miriam came along, anyhow.

She was really quite lovely, he had noticed. He knew she was something special when they had found her – the way she bantered, even when half alive, was enough to warm even his painfully cold heart – but he hadn’t expected to enjoy her company quite so much. He wasn’t attracted to her but she was kind and funny and he could see so much of himself in her and, for some reason, that made him care for her. Granted, they had only been speaking for half an hour now (two hours? Time was a funny thing) and they had both knocked a few back, but he was sure that, if she wanted, they could maintain a friendship. For Gwaine, the man that only had Merlin as a friend for years and none before that, this was quite the realisation.

He sniffled, taking another swig and blaming the lump in his throat on the brown liquid this establishment classed as a ‘drink’.

“There,” she patted his head, “you’re all done.” She spun him round – his eyes widening as he tried to save his tankard from spilling – and she checked out her handy work from the front. Her lips parted in, what was it, awe? “Pretty…” she muttered to herself. He felt his cheeks flush, already red from the drinking, and he giggled (though he would deny it if anyone asked).

She shook her head, eyes closing tightly and then opening again, “Not that you weren’t pretty before, that is. You have a very nice,” she gestured to his face and he bit his knuckle to prevent himself from bursting out in a laugh, “face?” She tilted her head to the side, going over what she said with confusion.

“Aye, well thank you for that lass.” He nodded to her, lifting his tankard and waiting for her to do the same, “To pretty faces!” He toasted. Their drinks sloshed into each other and they tipped them back, wiping mouths on the backs of hands.

They sat in silence for some time, watching the crowd in front of them. There was a particularly beautiful maiden in a red dress that was strutting across the room to a lean man with black hair and a rugged beard. She had a stern look on her face and walked with such vigour that not even the king would have been able to stop her. Gwaine wondered what the man had done, and Miriam just stared at her, warmth pooling at the bottom of her stomach.

The woman stopped in front of the man who had terror in his eyes that Gwaine could see from the other side of the room and slapped him. The sound rang out, silencing the crowd for a second. Gwaine turned to Miriam next to him, hearing her gasp and, curiously, her cheeks stain red. He smiled at that, potential reasons circling his mind.

The crowd ended up blocking the couple from Gwaine and Miriam’s view (much to both their dismay) and their attention returned to the other. Bringing a hand up to her mouth, Miriam stifled a yawn, eyes fluttering closed for a second.

“You’re tired.” She shook her head but her heavy eye’s betrayed her, “I should get you back to your room. It would be improper to keep you out so long, or something.” He wasn’t entirely sure if it did count as improper or if he would usually care, but he had no desire to have Lancelot, Merlin and Arthur on his back for keeping the new girl out for so long. He was sure they would spin some tale about him sleeping with her (not that he could dispute it, given his reputation) and Lancelot had looked hurt enough these last few days that he was sure the noble knight would snap. It would not be a pretty sight.

Something best avoided, he supposed.

“Yeah, you are, come on now lass, best us getting going before some twat starts a fight anyhow.” She snorted at this and resigned, standing up. The pair shuffled their way out from behind the table and headed out with a quick wave to Henry before the ducked through the door.

They walked through the lower town slowly, Miriam leaning against him for support and him doing his best not to sway too much. The inn became a distant echo, leaving them in their own little world. They were basked in the soft glow of dying candles and moonlight.

“What’s wrong with you?” She stopped, thinking over her phrasing before adding: “Merlin say’s you’ve been off since you found me in the woods. I think he’s worried.”

Gwaine clenched his jaw, forearms tingling. He took a deep breath before tacking on his jovial persona. “Nothing’s wrong, he’s just an old fart that doesn’t understand the point of a fun night down the Inn.”

She stayed in her spot - even as he took a few more steps towards the inner city - and watched him. She saw her own mannerisms in the way he moved. The clenched fists and jaw, the way he kept his wrists close to his body and his back and shoulders were tensed. “You’re lying.” She sang, feeling the effects of her drink.

His eye’s bulged at her bluntness but a part of him respected her for it. He was tired of the others tiptoeing around him and whatever they assumed was wrong, it was refreshing to have someone get to the point, even if it were a point he didn’t like.

He sighed, calculating the amount of information he could give away without exposing himself or how weak he truly was. He turned back to face her. “Not entirely, Merlin really is an old fart that doesn’t understand the joy one can have with a bucket of ale and a good brawl.” She squinted at him, doing her best to show how little she believed his façade.

He groaned, hand running through hair. “Fine. Yes, my mind has been doing all sort of stupid things since I saw you – not like that, you’re a fair maiden but not…” He sighed again as he massaged his temples, sober thoughts and it’s accompanied headache returning.

“You’re like me?” Her voice was soft, eye’s gentle as if she was worried the question would break him. If hadn’t spent the night out with her, it probably would have. He felt water fill his treacherous eyes – the golden lights in the street blurring in a wet mosaic. He watched her wobbling silhouette approach and place a soft hand on his cheek. His heart was racing, ocean in his ears, and he couldn’t tell if his stomach was doing flips due to the time in The Rising Sun or because, holy shit, someone knows.

“Hey,” came her gentle voice, bringing him back to reality. She moved her fingers softly against his skin and he felt himself lean into her hand. “I’ve never met someone else like me.” Despite the fear and hurt and anger, he smiled. She looked so innocent: stood on the tips of her toes to reach his face, cheeks flushed and tears welling in her own eyes. He opened his mouth, not yet sure what he wanted to say, just as the heavens above opened.

Rain poured down, soaking them both in seconds. Her hair stuck to her face and her thin shirt turned see through. He pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders, before taking her hand. “Let’s get inside.” He called over the rain, thunder rumbling in the distance. She had a large, beautiful, grin on her face as she nodded, blowing a wet strand of hair from her eyes.

She gripped his hand, and they ran. They ran past couples hiding under canvas, past children staying out far too late dancing in the rain, past drunkards emptying their stomachs in the hay. They ran all the way up to the castle, free hands on sides to ease stiches.

By the time they pulled to a stop, hiding under the roof at the top of the entrance stairs and looking out at the courtyard, they were wheezing with laughter and creating puddles at their feet.

“Well,” Miriam panted, “That woke me up some.” Gwaine snorted and shook his hair like a dog, spraying Miriam who squealed in response. She shoved him, trying to get her own back, but slipped and fell. He caught her by the forearms but quickly let go as he noticed her grimace in pain. She ended sprawled on the floor, eyes watering but laughing still. His face fell in concern and he knelt next to her.

“Shit, Miriam, I’m sorry.” She shook her head, waving him off but she cradled her arms to her chest still. “Should we go to Gaius or Merlin? I’m sure—” She butt in, eyes wide.

“No, no, not Merlin. I’m fine, really Gwaine.”

“What’s wrong with Merlin?” He tried not to get defensive but drinking always made him more affectionate for his friends, even when they weren’t there.

She sighed, bringing her legs up to her chest and dropping her head on her knees. “I fucked up with Gwen and now everyone hates me and then I did something even worse this morning.” Her voice was muffled but Gwaine caught it all, mouth dropping slightly. He sat down properly, slotting himself next to her and gently wrapping and arm around her shoulders.

“I’m sure they don’t hate you—”

“They do, and if they didn’t already, what I did this morning certainly confirmed it. By the looks I was getting in the Kitchens this morning, everyone knows. Wouldn’t be surprised if Arthur sends me away tomorrow.” Her voice cracked and she nuzzled herself into Gwaine’s side. He pulled his arm tighter around her and she let out a content sigh.

“What could you have done that was so bad, eh? You threaten Princess or something?” he nudged her gently, in jest, but she lifted her head and stared at him with such sad eyes that his heart broke for her. “How about we get warmed up in my chambers and talk about this? Does that sound alright?” She sniffled, nodding. He stood first and extended his hand for her. The walk to the Knights quarters was quiet – just the patting of their feet and the sound of distant rain – but both their minds were reeling.

Miriam still didn’t quite understand what she had done wrong in the first place and so explaining it to Gwaine was going to be a mammoth task, and then she would also have to explain what her and Juliana had done that morning and what would he even think of that? Would he be disgusted? She couldn’t blame him but if he were, what would she do next? She had had a good night with him, and she knew she could get him to talk of his own issues eventually which would make Merlin happy, so she really wasn’t fond of the idea of loosing him so soon after befriending him. Befriending? Were they truly friends now or had they just happened to have gotten drunk together?

Oh bother, it was all far too much for her hazy mind to comprehend.

Gwaine opened a heavy oak door and stood to the side, waving her in. She bowed her head and obeyed – might as well do as he says so these last few hours of being his friend go as smoothly as possible.

She lit the fire as Gwaine gathered blankets and pillows for them to sit on. Once it was roaring, she leant sat on one of the pillows and stretched her feet out to warm them.

“I have spare clothes you could wear, if you would like? You should get out of your wet clothes, at least.” Face blank – her thoughts were too fast for her to convey emotion anymore – she nodded and pulled her shirt and trousers off, leaving her in just a damp chemise. She pulled a blanket round her shoulders and another over her arms.

Gwaine caught a brief look of what she was covering and had to close his eyes, trying to stop his mind from going down the dark path yet again.

He removed his own clothes, pulling on his night trousers and covering himself in a similar manner to her. They sat, watching the fire dance, and basked in the others presence.

“If it matters any,” he began, taking a deep breath, “I don’t think you could do anything to disgust me. I have explored nearly all the lands of Isles, partaken in most endeavours, so I struggle to imagine you could say something I haven’t seen or experienced myself already.” He kept his head forward, allowing her the space to process his words. He didn’t know what Miriam could have done to elicit such fear in herself, but he meant every word of what he had said. Bar threatening or hurting someone, he couldn’t think of anything she could have done wrong.

She bit her lip, puling the blanket tighter around her and picked at an exposed red stripe on her wrist. She had taken the bandages off after work – they had got covered in so much food that they were more harm than good – and hadn’t wrapped them again. They had scabbed over nicely, according to Gaius, but that made the temptation to scratch at them far worse than before. Especially now, with such an uncomfortable conversation approaching.

“Women sleeping with other women. I know it’s wrong, I know it is against the gods and all that is natural,” If she turned her head, she would have seen the confusion on Gwaine’s face, “And yet, no matter how many times I’ve tried to force out such disgusting temptations, it is something I do.” Gwaine sighed a breath of relief, and then his brows furrowed in concern as he fully processed what she said.

“Forced them out? Of yourself?” He turned towards her, shuffling closer. She allowed herself a moment to glance at his face, before turning back to the fire. She didn’t understand the look he wore. It wasn’t quite anger, nor was it agreement.

“Yes. Sleeping with men, letting them have their way with me, you understand.”

He cocked his head at that, even more confused. “I’m not sure I do, Miriam.”

She turned to face him properly now, crossing her legs to keep distance between them. He mimicked her and let his knees brush hers. “Supposedly you sleep with any woman that will allow you, is that not because you want to avoid something? To change something in yourself?” Judging by the way he averted his eyes, she was right.

“But it never changes anything.” His voice was hoarse, and he kept his eyes on the floor.

“No, no it doesn’t.

There was another pause. Gwaine stood, blanket still covering his arms, and made his way to a cupboard in the corner. He returned with a large ceramic jar and a fruit cake, setting both down next to his seat. He took a large swig from the jar – a home brewed spirit – coughed slightly and passed it to Miriam who did the same.

“So, what did you do wrong?” He thought it a simple enough question and yet the look she made at him suggested otherwise.

After mulling her answer over and taking another swig, she began, “Well, other than the obvious crime—“ she ignored his attempt to interrupt, “I was talking to Gwen. About Lancelot and I. And then she said how she felt there was no man made for her. And then I, hopeful, I suppose, asked if she had explored the prospect of women. And I know that that was wrong of me and I shouldn’t have said it and I apologised as such but the way she looked at me, the way she held such disappointment in those truly beautiful eyes… I fucked up.” She stopped, taking a shaky breath and a piece of the cake.

Once she had finished chewing, he nodded for her to continue. “And then Merlin and I were in my new rooms – talking about you, actually – and she asked for me and I tried to apologise again but I think I did it wrong because she stormed off and Merlin not long followed and—” she cut herself off with a frustrated groan, hands racking through her hair. The blanket fell from her arms, exposing the harsh lines coating them.

Gwaine took another drink.

“And you say you did something worse this morning?”

Her cheeks flushed at that, “Depends who you ask but yes, much worse. Though, Juliana enjoyed it if I do say so myself.” It took him a second, but he caught on with an ‘oh? Oh.’ And she nodded in response.

“But Gwen saw, I am certain of it. Not the whole thing, mind, but the way Juliana was talking to me, and then us going into the storeroom at the back and… I have truly fucked up, Gwaine.” She fell back, staring at the ceiling. He lay down next to her, eyes tracing patterns in the beams running across his room.

He liked to think he knew Merlin and Gwen well - well enough to judge their reactions - and he was sure Miriam was missing something important. Namely that same sex relations such as the ones she mentioned were not a crime in Camelot. Sure, they weren’t the norm, but Arthur, the King himself, partook in them and so the common people were quickly allowing themselves to give into such temptations. Supposedly, even Uther wasn’t that harsh on those found doing such things, although it was never something reported that he did himself. He was also sure that she was leaving out that she had feelings for Gwen and was beating herself up the attraction. Not that he blamed her for liking her – he had tried to pursue her when he had first arrived in Camelot too. She was something special, even the blind could see that.

He turned on his side to face her and waited for her to do the same. “What do you know about Camelot? About it’s attitudes to such things?” Her face scrunched up as she thought about it.

Really, she hadn’t heard anything about what Camelot thought about it. She never intended to end up here – she had gone from town to town for work and the forest she was found in was two days ride away from the citedale. She had intented to make her way as far north as north could go but never had any specific town in her head. She knew that Merlin and Arthur were handsy with each other and she had seen the way they slept together after Merlin had given her his role mat that night, but she assumed that was just something royals did with their servants. Same as they would with a woman.

And yet, with the line of questioning Gwaine was going down, she could sense that she was wrong somewhere along the line. “I don’t know anything about Camelot, save for Uther having been King here a few years past and everyone knows about him. But I have seen how Arthur and Merlin are and I expect you are asking because Merlin isn’t just a body to warm the Princesses bed?”

Gwaine laughed at that, happy she still referred to Arthur as that. “You’d be right there. Why are you so against people like that? People like yourself?” This time she looked angry and, if Gwaine looked close enough, scared. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

She nodded, chewing her lip and scratching her wrists again. He took her hands in his, keeping them still.

“May I ask you something now, Gwaine?” He nodded slowly. “Could I see you? What you’ve done to yourself?” He sat up, dropping her hands. The blanket fell away but all she could see was his back from where she lay.

“I’m sorry. I just,” she sat up, not looking at him so he could have some privacy, “I want to know what it’s like for other people. And you’re a knight, you’re brave and yet you still did it and I just…” she grew quiet, water welling in her eyes once more, “I always thought myself a coward but maybe I’m not.”

She heard him sigh from next to her.

“I don’t think I’m all that brave, lass. Sometimes I think about joining those troops that go round preforming for lords and ladies. Gwaine the Freak. I’m sure I could draw in a pretty penny.” He laughed but there was no humour in it.

Slowly, he turned to face Miriam, and she followed suit. They locked eyes, her trying to show trust and him trying to confirm it, and then he dropped his blanket.

She couldn’t help the way she leant forward, hands itching to draw over his body. His chest and arms were littered in scars – some from fights and brawls, others from himself. There were a few burn marks, likely from run ins with magical beings. She met his eyes again, asking for permission, before she gave into temptation and traced the patterns marring his skin. She started over his chest, tracing over his heart, down to his ribs and then past a particularly nasty white mound by his naval. She then took his hand in her own, placing it on her knee. She began at his hand, tickling swirls over his palm which made him smile despite himself, and then, slowly, she worked her way up. There were fresh red streaks over the blue streams under his skin. They got less calculated the further up his forearm she got: more erratic, more angry, more hurt. He averted his eyes as she gently trailed her fingers over the fresh ones, not wanting her to see the tears slipping through his lashes. She found the circular scar at his shoulder where he had been skewered by a spear – that one still caused him pain in the winter. Finally, her hands trailed up his neck and cupped his jaw. She pulled his face to look at her again, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“You’re beautiful, Sir Gwaine.” Her voice was light, genuine, and it broke him. He tried to snort, to play it off like it was nothing, but he couldn’t. Those traitorous tears broke the banks and came pouring down. She brought his head down to meet hers, foreheads resting on each other, and he shook. He distantly felt her arms wrap around him, and soft whispers near his ear, but he couldn’t be sure. You’re beautiful, Sir Gwaine. And he knew she meant it, he could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice. She didn’t strike him as the kind of girl to dish words like that out and somehow, that made it so much worse. He felt as if he had let her down by being like this, despite knowing being like this was why she was drawn to him. He had never had anyone care for him before (bar Merlin), not truly, and even Merlin hid things from him. He wasn’t stupid, no matter how the other Knights joked: he could see that Merlin had a secret and he was almost certain it was to do with magic, but Merlin didn’t trust him with that, and he could feel the wedge that drove between them. But here was Miriam. A stranger, practically. And here was Miriam, sharing a secret with him that had practically killed her just days before, and here was Miriam, taking him in her arms and making his heart warm in ways it hadn’t since his father had died all those years ago. And here was Miriam, caring. Something so simple, and yet, so rare for him that he no longer knew what to do but cry.

He felt disgusting, snot dripping down his face like a child, and body growing hot sat so close to the fire, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He sighed, tears slowing, and sank deeper against Miriam. She moved her head, resting it on his shoulder and bringing him closer to her. He listened to their heart beats – both still beating wildly from their run and subsequent outbursts.

They stayed that way for what felt like hours but was only a quarter of one. The fire was growing low, desperate for more wood. When they pulled apart from each other, a tangle of sweaty limbs, they stayed silent, basking in the loving atmosphere. Gwaine leant forward, throwing two more logs onto the embers, and sat back again.

Gently, he brought one of his calloused hands to her cheek – just as she had with his – and smiled. It was one of the most genuine smiles he had ever pulled, and he knew she could sense that. “Thank you.” It was barely a whisper, but she nodded, hearing it still.

They ended up working their way through the cake and the spirit, trading stories from the lands they had lived in, and ignoring what had happened before. They were both appreciative for the interaction, but neither was emotionally prepared to dive back into it and so they focused their energy on stuffing their guts.

The sun was beginning to rise by the time they passed out.

#not a burden #mimiswitchywrites #merlin #merlin fic #bbc merlin #gwaine #oc #fem!oc #sir gwaine

3 notes · View notes

moonlightstars16 · 4 years

Text

Prologue ~ Cracked

***WARNING*** This book may contain trigger words and scenes. Please read at your own caution!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was many years ago. The four Diamonds had complete authority over the milky way galaxy. Conquering many planets for their own personal gain. Yellow Diamond was chief commander over all the armies and colonies per planet. She was fierce, strong and had a horrible temper. Although only when provoked to become so. Still her calm yet determined aura frightened those beneath her. If anyone dared to cross the line she used her power (a blinding light similar to lightning) poofing anyone who stood in her way.

A gem had well their gem and through that a physical body made up of light. That was all they needed to survive. But if placed in a bubble, reforming was impossible. Yellow made sure of that when a certain gem was more disobedient than the rest. Jaspers, Peridots, and Amethyst gems were her main servants and solders. Except for one Pearl(every Diamond had one), Yellow Pearl. She was her second in command. No one spoke to Yellow Diamond or gave any reports without going through the Pearl first.

Blue Diamond was more diplomatic, so to speak. Giving warning to all those who would soon become an inconvenience to any development. Unlike Yellow she had a more calm and collected demeanor. Elegance glowed throughout her court which was mostly made up of Sapphires(those who can see into the future) and Ruby solders who protected them. Though not having a strong as a temper as Yellow, she tortured her enemies by attacking their emotions. Sending each one paralyzed and crying deep blue tears. Though mainly affecting gem kind, others caught in her powers were still paralyzed through her poisonous aura. Her Blue Pearl stayed quiet and submissive. Similar to Yellow's Pearl she was Blue Diamond's head lady-in- waiting(or Pearl in waiting so to speak). No one went to Blue without going through her Pearl, unless told otherwise.

But one Diamond stood above all the rest. The Radiant, all powerful, and feared among all.

White Diamond

She was beautiful and her appearance remained pure. However in her heart she was the most cold hearted Diamond of them all. All other gems where under her, including Yellow and Blue. She answered to no one. If someone wasn't perfect, she would dispose of them. If any gem were not perfect, well her only way to get rid of them was simple. Shattering. A gem being shattered would be the end of their life. They would die and that was that. Gems lived for many of thousands of years. but that was all thanks to their life source that is their gem itself. White Diamond would not tolerate anyone who dared defy her. But some gems feared her power more than shattering.

A strong blinding light, a beautifully haunting melody, color fading and trapped in there own mind. White's power was complete control. Making others beneath her do her bidding. White Diamond took pleasure in making other gems suffer. Especially her Pearl. However she didn't need a Pearl. But only took the littlest of the Diamonds Pearl as punishment. The only Diamond who pushed her to her limit.

Pink Diamond

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Smaller in size than the others, and quite the troublemaker(Her tantrums so impactful they cracked her first pearl. An imperfection White had to get rid of.... or use). Although the Diamonds were feared, they were in command and knew what they were doing. At least so it seemed to the rest of the gems on HomeWorld. So they accepted the Diamonds reign for protection and guidance. They were a symbol of royalty, power and leadership. White ordered Blue and Yellow to do whatever they could to keep Pink in line. Even if it meant to hide her away for a thousand years.

Pink Diamond had the mind of a young child. She was curious about everything and desperately wanted to be like the other Diamonds. In charge and conquering other planets. But they knew she wasn't ready for it. Yellow felt the most pressure from White and although had a deep hidden compassion for Pink, stayed distant. Blue however was more open and lenient. Feeling empathy for her youngest sister(as they would sometimes address themselves as such). She allowed Pink to sometimes get away with certain things, like breaking a tower and destroying good soil for new gems to grow. Plus much more. Yellow had to pick up the mess along with Blue, though it almost never went unnoticed by White. Who punished them for it every single time.

Pink did feel sorry for her actions and at one point tried to be good. Because of that, Blue gave Pink her very own personal garden, however only to keep her distracted. When that began to become boring, she gave Pink Spinel. A perfectly cut heartshaped gem designed to be someone's playmate. A Best Friend so to speak. But even that began to wear off. Her envy over what the other Diamonds had grew more and more.

Coming up with a plan to prove to the diamonds she was capable of ruling over her own army and colony. While in her garden Pink, Spinel and her new Pearl began to plot in secret. Sometimes Pink would stay in her garden for weeks at a time. During which no one came to "check up" on her. Pearl had gained info from other gems about future planets to colonize. However one planet slipped their radar. a greenish blue planet which circled around a sun and a small moon orbiting around itself. It was perfect, unique and as far as Pink was concerned, all hers. She was go and prepare the planet for colonization and once the Diamonds saw her hard work, they had to give her an army.

However Pink had to be discrete. No one other than her and her small court(Spinel and Pearl) could know. Pearl came up with an idea, all gems could change their physical form. Instead of a Diamond, how about a Rose Quartz? The thought delighted Pink so much she changed instantly the moment she heard it. So it was decided they would leave in a small Ruby ship (which was once broken now restored thanks to her Pearl) that night.

Once on earth, they landed on a small patch of land surrounded by water mostly(though it was connected to the mainland). No one lived there and it was the perfect place to hide out. Soon the mission was underway. However Pink, couldn't help but realize there was life already here. Her "gut" tightened when she realized it would be much harder. That only made her more determined.

They lived there for many days, which turned into weeks and weeks to months and months to years. Pink at first only wanted to check out this planet. Then began to grow more curious about the creatures, whom she now knew as humans, that inhabited this planet. It became less about wanting her colony and more about what the purpose of humans were. Every gem had a purpose, but humans? She had to find out. Sometimes she took note that at times they didn't know. Still she kept on observing. Pearl and Spinel grew worried about Pink and even begged her to come back. But she insisted on staying and so they did.

Overtime she noticed how beautiful Earth's(the planets name) plants grew as opposed to her own garden. Even the animals, insects, other forms of life on earth live in harmony. She was beyond amazed of everything that was Earth. The more time she spent with them, the more she grew to love the planet. Still an inner battle in her mind grew more and more. What about her purpose? She was a Diamond right? Isn't conquering planets like this made what she was supposed to do? All the questions swirled in her mind torturously until one night she heard a beautiful and different Melody on the beach, right behind her hidden haven.

The music came from one human named Greg Universe. The moment Pink laid her eyes on him she was mesmerized. Something inside her stirred, an emotion she never felt before. Walking closer and closer she saw how amazing the song was. Taking her to a whole different world. The singer himself was to her eyes handsome. If ever gems believed in knight-in-shining armor's, well Greg came close in her mind. Once the song ended they locked eyes for the first time. Pink didn't know much about the human concept of 'Love At First Sight', but she knew it was happening to her. And apparently so did he.

And from that moment, she swore to protect this planet.

Pink and her companions went back to HomeWorld(after changing back to her Diamond form) to make their case. She was a Diamond herself right? Surely they had to listen to her words too. A Diamonds word had meaning, and so she hoped her's did as well. Bursting through the doors of the palace, she demanded to speak with the Diamonds. not accepting no for an answer. And once she had the floor(They liked to humor her sometimes), she made her case and rambled on about how earth was beautiful, amazing and needs to be under protection.

White Diamond had enough. First for having Pink leave for many years, then claiming her childish behavior, and finally the audacity to think she was in a position to demand anything. As punishment, White took over her mind and made Pink self harm herself. Not on her physical body, but on her gem. Streaks became heard for all who was there witnessing the even. Soon those streaks deepened to small cracks; to the point Pink pleaded and apologized as hard as she could. White smiled and let her go. Ordering her to go to "time-out", her prison cell.

While in there Pink cried out long and hard. Not only from the pain in her gem but because she felt as if she failed. Lifting her knees to her chest she cried and let the tears pour out. Suddenly a bright light beamed through the room. Pink gasped and lifted her head. Feeling all of the physical pain going away. Shaking and with hesitation, she looked down and gasped. Her gem was restored. In that moment another revelation struck her. No more giving up. She busted through the walls using her powers, found Spinel and Pearl telling them her resolve. No longer would she be a 'Diamond'; changing her final form once more she became what they soon feared, Rose Quartz

A Leader of the Crystal Gem Rebellion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pearl and Spinel among with other gems, a Sapphire and Ruby fusion(which were forbidden among those who were not the same) named Garnet, a small Amethyst that was hidden for being "imperfect" and a Bismuth who built weapons for the Crystal Gems. They took a stand against Homeworld and a battle soon commenced. But the battlefield was a small uninhabited planet between Homeworld and Earth. Many fought and many were shattered.

All of a sudden all of Homeworld solders retreated back. Leaving the rebels confused and still hesitant that the battle seemed to be over. Rose however knew what was about to happen. Telling the rebel gems to retreat to earth to their rebel base the haven had now become. Once there she didn't have much time before the familiar haunting melody reached her ears. Standing outside she used all of her strength and created a shield that she hoped was big enough. A blinding light appeared, wiping away all gems who were not away or were not protected.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two more years passed, Rose looked up at Greg from the human/gem bed she laid on. Making him promise to never leave there child's side. Through tears she smiled. Since the final rebel war defense was so great she took longer to recover. But her damage was irreversible, giving up her physical form and her gem for her son was the only way he would survive. though she would be gone forever.

"Tell Steven how much I love him" Rose asked of Greg.

"I will Rose, I promise!" He spoke though it was just above a whisper.

As they said their final I love you's Rose gave up her physical form. A beam of light, the wind blowing across the room and finally a baby's cries were heard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ten years passed peacefully as Steven grew up both human and gem learning to control his powers. the surviving Crystal Gems, Pearl, Spinel, Garnet, Amethyst, Bismuth, Peridot and Lapis taught him as much as they could. But even they didn't know much since he had the powers of a Diamond. However they did their best. Even Greg kept his promise. All seemed well for the weird family they were.

Until one day a huge ship made up of only arms and a body with a head, appeared in the sky. It was only a moment when it arrived that changed the boy's life forever. A bright light appeared and took them all, including Greg, back to homeworld.

White was not done yet with Pink.

#shatteredbloodsufau #steven universe #steven universe future #au #connverse #steven and connie #connie mahaswaren #garnet #pearl #amethyst #spinel #greg universe #the diamonds #evil steven #fanfic #pink diamond #pink steven

17 notes · View notes

space-blue · 4 years

Text

The Mountain God

"I wish I could work downtown too."

"But working in the summer here is not very fun, especially not in kitchens."

"Still beats my job. I'm not even paid for it."

"Does it? I would think your job is more important and valued than mine."

Arji looks at the blond stranger, surveying the woody valley with a delight she doesn't think she's ever felt, being born and raised here. To him it must look exotic. She has no doubt her religious tasks are just as exotic to his foreign eyes–folklore that adds to the local charm.

"You know," he says, "I like to think that what makes tanma noodles taste so good is that each bowl contains at least one drop of sweat from our brows. It's the spice from all the hard work we chefs pour into making it."

"See, you make it sound so nice..."

It is hot and humid, and the blue of the sky feels wet to look at, like a smooth sea floating in the heavens. Their ears are filled with the racket of crickets and cicadas, a persistent hum that seems to make up the very fabric of the air. The breeze plays with the stranger's golden locks, making a show for Arji's own delight. She thinks Erik Vinter is a fine addition to the local charm.

"I still can't believe you begged Derjan to apprentice you after one bite of his tanma."

"No, I finished the whole bowl before asking. I couldn't stop to talk in the middle of such an experience. What can I say? I'm a travelling foodie. I know to trust my taste-buds."

Erik's eyes light up as he talks to her of foods he has tasted on his travels, of the recipes he has collected, of his dreams of restaurant and fame. She looks at him sway in the tuneless music of nature around them. She wishes the whole summer could pass by like that.

"I finish at eight tonight, Apra and Jen are coming over at mine for some drinks, won't you join us?"

Arji is surprised. It takes a clueless foreigner to invite the God's attendant in the middle of summer devotion. But it crystallises her hopes and desires all too well.

"I'll call you," she says, rising to leave and maybe hide her blushing, "if I can join after devotion."

She knows, as she goes through her ablutions, that her mother simply won't let her.

"Arji! How can you think of partying at such a time?"

Her mother's face looks so hurt and scared, it's hard to resent her, and that makes Arji angrier.

"Child, I'm worried you're not taking your duties to the mountain's God seriously," she says, tying Arji's ceremonial robes, "it is not a baseless tradition. Misconduct would bring much worse than just shame on us..."

Arji tries not to roll her eyes. Each passing summer her tasks seem more pointless. She knows the importance of attending the God. She would not want him to desert him. But surely summer devotion doesn't need to keep her as good as trapped on the Temple grounds, forbidden to have any fun? Her exasperation makes Arji look more dignified than usual as she steps out of the Temple's back patio. The evening ritual is the same every summer, with two priestesses–her aunt and mother–singing while Arji slowly steps unto bare earth and approaches a crystal clear pond at the base of a rocky outcrop. People call this the temple's garden, but really the temple was built in the God's garden. When she gets to the pool, Arji seizes the cord knotted on her chest and in one smooth motion, all the colourful layers of fine fabric cascade to her feet, leaving her naked but for a thin white loincloth. She raises her arms, breathes deep and plunges. The water is warm and clear. Arji grabs onto holds smoothed by generations of divers, and pulls herself expertly in a bend. It grows dark before light appears again, diffuse and greenish : a natural phosphorescence in the stone referred to as the God's Way. The passage bends until a new surface appears above, a cavern lit by the rocks' inner light. When she breaks through, Arji enters an atmosphere almost thicker than water.

It is the God's den. Here he is, lying on his side as always.

Arji climbs out and kneels, bowing and reaching forward to touch the God's fur. She doesn't know what he is. Wolfish, but smaller, definitely carnivorous. He never moves. The only movements she ever sees comes from the creatures crawling on and around him, critters of all shapes and sizes, from skittering bugs to mice, snakes or feral cats, come to pay their own respects. As she touches him, the air comes alive to her ears, throbbing, amplifying the rustle of fur, the clicks of little claws, the drips of water.

"From the humans of your mountain, O God, may you give breath to our songs and rhythm to our lives."

And Arji sings.

Her voice bends and reverberates in the close space, and she plays with it. For many years she has come to perform this duty, to offer the beauty of human music to the God. It is their expected sacrifice. She sings five prayer-poems of reverence, and bows again before turning and dipping back into the pool, unheeded. She did it the night before, and she will be back on the morrow. All summer it is her task–to please a God who lays crawling with insects and animals like a dead carcass–and all evening Arji fumes. She hardly touches her diner, and retires early. Once, singing for the God had been a great privilege. Habit wore it off. Does the God even really care for her songs?

Escaping the temple's grounds isn't exactly a feat: it is all open ground. She is kept in by trust and duty, not gates or fences. But tonight she's had enough of those, and not enough of Erik's charming smile and manners. Her friends are surprised but happy to see her, and the night soon melts away in pleasure, Arji loosing track of reality after a while. The dancing was famous, the food spicy and tangy, someone took out firecrackers... They sung and drank–and drank–and Erik's hands wrapped around Arji's waist, making her feel so small–they kissed, and the lights went out in her head.

A night well worth the misery of the following day, spent sick and hungover. The worst isn't so much the vomiting but convincing her mother she's fine. Standing in front of the pool again, Arji grimly wonders if the dip will help–it doesn't. She emerges with her headache intact and her spirits low. Everything is as she left it the last day, but for the court of little attendants. Here is a new vole, and a marten is gone... Arji sighs. Even the animals have more freedom than her, it seems. Resigned, she sings–but her voice splits, cracks. Reverberations croak back from all corners. She coughs and looks up, sheepish.

The God moves.

His whole head lifts from the floor and twists to face her, golden beady eyes starring at her, trapping her under his gaze like a frog in torchlight.

"So little care, human."

His voice comes from the stones, from the water and from each little critter. It comes from the noise of the blood in her ears, and the thunder of her laboured breathing.

"You see your duty to me as a chore, I can hear it."

Arji can do nothing but look at the God, her eyes popping out of her head.

"Do you wish to do without me, to become a place of chaos?"

Arji shakes her head, not daring to speak. She's been to the great city on the plain. She knows what it's like down there, where no God lives. People's lives are messy, without harmony. Things collide instead of working together. Sound there is noise without rhythm.

"I'm sorry... I thought... you weren't hearing me."

"But I was. And until you've come to love your reverence and your life embraces the rhythm I breath for you all, no one but me will hear you."

The God moves too fast for stunned Arji to react. His pounces on her, his teeth digging into her throat and tearing. She cries out, reaches up, but no blood is pouring out, her skin is smooth, and the God already gone, back to lie on his rock with his creeping court curled up close, chittering angrily at her.

“I'm sorry!” Arji chokes, massaging her throat. “I'll be more mindful.”

She bows and takes a hasty leave, subdued, her aching brain overwhelmed by the encounter.

It's only when she tries to explain her early return to her mother, and not a sound comes out from her throat, that she realises what the God meant. No one hears her bitter cries.

~~ May 2017 – Theme : Music Bit of a weird one... I'd totally forgotten I'd even written it...

#original story #original work #competition #fantasy

1 note · View note

nouveauweird · 5 years

Text

So I got a job. Please find under the cut, a prose description of the absolutely character-rich, amazing home of the man I will be working for.

The first thing you’ll notice is that the front yard has a lovely and simple garden, and a green fence with a sign that asks that you please keep the gate closed. The front door has an obvious security camera on it and a two-way speaker, the window on the door is barred.

The first thing you’ll notice when you enter is the high ceilings and the large carpets covering wood floors. The second thing you’ll notice is the smell of cats, but it is not so overpowering that it is unpleasant— you will be greeted by three of them, and the only name you remember is Rasputin, because he is ugly as hell but at age 13 he is gentle and curiously follows you around. The others are a small white and black patchy one that might be 5 or 7, and the other is a fluffy six-toed white and orangey-yellow one.

Bowls of chocolates and cookie sticks, of matchboxes, and other nick nacks you can’t identify are strewn all around. There are piles of books and magazines a top vintage furniture. The walls are lined with bookshelves, and they are full to the brim with books. Stuffed animals can be spotted here and there around the room, along with other art. There are two cat stuffies on chairs at the dining room table, and a four foot giraffe in the corner next to a lamp.

You’re told the house has many air filter machines. You think you hear the old man say he has twenty one cats.

Up one flight of stairs there is an assortment of art on the walls, a bust in the corner on the landing, and more bookshelves. There is a toy frog on the floor that ribbits when we pass. On those bookshelves you can see little toys and nicknacks including a palm-sized drone. The old man opens a doorway to another set of stairs and you spot three life sized toy penguins lined up on the stairs. The space is cramped, there are a lot of books.

Up this next flight of stairs is a large and busy space, an atrium (through which you can see the floors below) is lined with large potted plants— a bamboo has stretched all the way up to the sky light above it. Toy lizards, and frogs and slots, monkeys, and a snake sit among the plants harmoniously.

You make out volumes on philosophy, history, many different world cultures, medical texts, and more you can hardly identify. You become acquainted with the CD’s on shelves, a vast collection of music that includes classical and jazz, and you even spot a completed unopened box set of the New York Philharmonic, still in its plastic.

The room is so large and so packed with books, but behind a turning shelf of CD’s is a sofa housing more stuffed animals and a the shelf behind them holding more books. There is an large old TV and hi-fi system there as well, with a medium but wide toy Penguin atop the TV. There is a small desk, a printer, a scanner, and a keyboard in the corner, and a plant near the window which the six-toed cat tries to play with.

There is a functional nespresso machine by the stairs, and the old man promises that he will set up a beautiful coffee maker. He says his housekeeper will bring you tea or cold water, and seems pleased to know you only drink soda on special occasions.

You go back downstairs and have to duck through a small hallway, and pass another staircase that is a dark hardwood. The old man leads you to a stairway, excited for you to meet the rest of his cats. When you peak in the doorway, there are cats, maybe a dozen of them, all hanging out on the stairs, peering back at you. You descend and find a basement space dedicated to the old man’s twenty one cats. There is an air filter running in the corner, the smell is not overwhelming, but the cat hair on the ground is clear that this is their home.

You do not catch most of their names.

You recall Brunnhilde, Kot, Koshka, Borja, Ophelia, Precious, and Sheba, and of course Rasputin whom you met earlier. Borja is uglier than Rasputin, but you mean that in the most loving way possible. Precious, Kot and Koshka seem to like you plenty and rub into your hand eagerly for head rubs. Two others, brother and sister, whose names escape you, also seem to like you a lot. The sister is gray and fluffy with white and brown patches, she wheezes a bit because she has a pulmonary problem. Her brother is big and grey and headbutts your hand a lot and is a total sweetheart.

The old man shows you the garden, and as you pass through the kitchen you see a tiny hydroponic system of herbs and plants. The garden is for his cats, and the fence inside is painted bright purple and yellow, there are trees and plants, and shelves and statues, a table covered in light greenish yellow tree buds, and small structures for the cats to play in. Most of it is made with stone or brick. There are funny signs on the wall near the door, “DANGER BITCH IN TRAINING”, “IN THIS ZOO THE MAMA BEAR RULES” are among the ones you spot.

He has a private bibliotheque just across the lane, where there are undoubtedly, more books.

You absolutely cannot wait to get to work classifying his CD collection.

#drabbles.#runi typing...

11 notes · View notes

diinofayce · 6 years

Text

Shadows on the Horizon - 10

Pairing: Winter Soldier! Bucky Barnes x OFC! Layne Hardin | Word Count: 2.9k | Warnings: Layne vs Steve, no Layne and Bucky in this chapter, minor swearing| A/N: This is a sequel to my story Like a Whisper in the Night | Shadows on the Horizon Masterlist

“Do you know how long it took Shuri to put up those mental fortifications?”

“Well, I’m sure she’s very smart, but tell me how his trigger words got through if she was that thorough?”

“It probably had something to do with you tampering with his mind for the last year!”

“Oh, so chasing away nightmares and making sure he can get sleep and function is tampering now is it? I’m pretty sure not even a month ago you were telling how much I’ve done to help improve his life.”

“That was before all this went down, now who knows what you’ve been doing. For all we know you could be working for Hydra and have been planning this the whole time.”

“You have exactly ten seconds to take that back and apologize before I show you exactly what weakening someone’s mentality looks and feels like.”

Bucky stared up at the ceiling of his room while listening to his best friend and his girlfriend argue in angry whispers in the hall. He knew he should go out there and separate them, but it seemed like this was all going to come to a head eventually anyway so he might as well just let them get it out. Layne and Steve were too similar; headstrong, stubborn, and opinionated. It made it hard for the two of them to fully get along in harmony most of the time.

On top of the fact that he was still pushing back this pounding headache and swarm of memories. There was also the new emotions he had to work though; he felt angry, cold, and withdrawn. He knew that wasn’t fully him, though, or he supposed it was. It was the new him, the him that had always been there locked away tight in the darkness so he didn’t have to cope with it.

Bucky also couldn’t help but notice where before with his super soldier hearing that he could hear everything louder and clearer. The voices in the hall would have been heard but they would have been overlapped by the ticking second hand of the clock on the wall and the electric current of the power cables that were spiderwebbed throughout the tower walls. But all the background noise, the little things, were muted. They were there if he looked for them, but he could easily ignore them which allowed him to tune into the conversation in the hallway way easier. Bucky assumed this was Winter Soldier training which didn’t make him feel any better about it.

“The princess is on a mission with Queen Nakia and is unreachable for the foreseeable future, but I left a missive for King T’Challa,” Bruce’s voice cut across the arguing couple and Bucky could hear Steve’s heavy sigh.

“Steve, this had to happen. I know that it was nice having ‘your Bucky’ back, but the fact of the matter is he isn’t the same guy from 1940. He stopped being that guy when he got captured in Italy,” Layne pressed, her voice sounding much more like she was trying to soothe a toddler after a temper tantrum. “The Winter Soldier is literally half of his personality. All Hydra managed to do was figure out how to separate it and control the pieces that they wanted.”

Bucky brought his vibranium hand up to his eyes and pressed his knuckles into his eye sockets in attempt to alleviate the pressure behind his eyes. There were so many memories flooding back to him. Cache locations, safe houses, abandoned facilities, research centers, missions he hadn’t remembered - was he seriously responsible for a presidential assassination? - it was all coming to him so quickly he was starting to feel overloaded. Yet he still tried to focus on what was being said out in the hallway.

“But Bucky wouldn’t have done all those things,” Steve argued. Bucky knew Steve was thinking about all the arguments he went through with most of the team on his behalf. He was probably afraid it was a moot point now and everyone would go back to not trusting him. Hell, Bucky was afraid of that too.

“Maybe not the Bucky from Brooklyn who used to take care of skinny little Steve. But Bucky who was a soldier and a prisoner of war and tortured for years did what he had to so that he would survive to see another day.”

“No, Bucky would have taken a bullet before letting that happen.”

“That’s a pretty bold assumption coming from someone who hasn’t been there,” Layne scoffed, her tone dismissive.

“Oh, because you have?”

“Not only have I seen it, Captain, but I’ve also felt it. You wouldn’t believe the number of nights Bucky’s nightmares pulled me out of a dead sleep. How many I’ve lived through alongside him.”

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t known that he knew of the ones she would wake him up from; inserting her image in his mind and pulling him from the dark memories with her soft eyes. But he had no idea that she had been pulled into his mind and his memories and made to watch from his point of view. He thought back to the experience they had just had in the common room where the Soldier had been placed behind Layne’s eyes and how everything from the weight of the pistol in her hands to the heat of being shot in between the eyes by Bucky’s gun was felt as if they were actually him instead. Regret and self-loathing pooled in the pit of his stomach, why didn’t she tell him that was happening?

“You guys, this arguing is helping no one. Cap, Layne hasn’t shown anyone a reason to not trust her and I think if anyone knows what they’re talking about it going to be her,” Bruce placated in his soft and patient voice and it even did a bit to calm Bucky’s racing heart.

“Right, right. Of course, she does,” Steve responded bitterly and Bucky could picture his face. The stubborn scowl that didn’t change even after the rest of him did.

“Is that what this is all about?” Layne asked with dawning realization. “You’re afraid you’re no longer the James Barnes expert?”

Steve’s silence spoke volumes and Layne just scoffed with disbelief. Bucky knew her well enough that she was ramping up to just lay into Steve, but FRIDAY managed to interject first.

“Agent Hardin, Director Fury has requested you to report to interrogation immediately. Doctor Banner, Doctor Cho is on hold for you.”

“Well, there you go Captain,” Layne sneered. “Better go take care of him.”

Sometimes, Bucky cursed his super soldier hearing. He would have just fine not knowing that Layne and Steve were basically in a pissing contest over him.

“For the record, Steve, I’m not trying to replace you. No one is going to replace you,” Layne added softly.

Steve sighed as Bucky sat up, trying to think of a way out without attracting all the attention that he knew he was going to get. Steve Rogers could be a mother hen, which was a power switch from back in the thirties. As Bucky’s feet hit the carpet the door to his room clicked open and closed and Steve rounded the corner to the bedroom.

“Oh, hey Buck. I didn’t get an update that you were awake,” Steve said with a crooked and rueful smile.

Bucky’s gaze roved his best friend. He was still wearing his UnderArmor shirt and basketball shorts. The bruise around his right eye was still a dark purple but the edges were already starting to lighten to a greenish-yellow hue.

“FRIDAY is probably busy with more important things,” Bucky grumbled scrubbing his face with his hands and resting his elbows on his thighs.

Steve crossed the room from the doorway and sat down on the bed next to him.

“You and Layne haven’t been getting along,” Bucky stated pointedly and Steve had the good grace to look a little chagrin.

“What she does to help you is just,” Steve tilted his head side to side trying to think of the appropriate word but coming up empty.

“Different?” Bucky supplied and Steve nodded.

“It’s hard to wrap my head around. How are you feeling?”

Bucky looked down at his hands on his lap, mentally assessing himself for a moment. “Okay, I guess. We…see things differently, hear things differently. That…part of me got the chance to get used to the serum and adapt to it while I simply lived with it. It’s taking some adjusting.”

When Bucky looked up at Steve, he could tell by Steve’s expression that he could see what Layne had been seeing this whole time; two halves of James Buchanan Barnes battling for control, to be seen. Steve scoffed a little, the right side of his mouth crooked up in disbelief as he looked away and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously.

Bucky watched his best friend, a small knot of nerves forming in his gut. “Stevie…,” he started, but Steve just shook his head.

“Don’t, Buck. It’s my fault. When the five of you came back from the mission it was just chaos. I don’t know what you remember, but you should be proud of your girl. Got me and Fury immediately on the link as soon as she had everything under control on the jet. Her team stood by her without question, she gave her report three times under that stare that Fury gets when he’s trying to be intimidating,” a wide smile cracked his face as he thought back to Layne; covered in blood and her hair wild, old tears had cleaned the dirt from her cheeks in streaks. But she stood strong, kept her shoulders squared and her chin level as she matched Fury’s stare and repeated her report, again and again, justified her decisions.

“She said I shouldn’t talk a big game because I took a seventy-year nap,” Steve laughed and Bucky smirked.

“Sounds like her,” he responded.

And while the last mission, being slammed away and separated and switched once again was still blurry to him, he knew he was safe and at the tower because of Layne. Because she knew immediately that something was wrong and had gone in after him.

Bucky’s brows furrowed as he tried to piece together anything from the last few days. A part of him felt a pang of nagging guilt and he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“The subbasement?” Bucky asked looking sideways at Steve.

Steve visibly winced and nodded. “Yeah, after she got done chewing me a new one she flew down to the subbasement where we were keeping you. She locked herself in with the Soldier before he recognized her.”

Bucky closed his eyes as the sudden memory came back to him. He clenched his vibranium fist as he remembered what if felt like to almost crush his girlfriend’s trachea. He could see the bruise on her throat blossoming in front of his eyes and the feeling of resentment burned in his chest. Steve’s hand clamping down on his shoulder brought him back to himself.

“Don’t do that to yourself, Buck. She didn’t blame you once.”

“Your face will be fine by tomorrow. It’ll take her a week.”

“She’s not worried and she’d eloquently cuss you out if she thought you were,” Steve laughed again.

Bucky sighed and smiled softly. Steve wasn’t wrong, she’d be so mad at him if he was blaming himself for something else - even if was his fault. But it’s not like any of that self-loathing went away easily, he kept it bottled down and hidden from her so she would feel like she’s helping and she was to some extent, but she couldn’t erase the past and the pain. And now, with the Soldier’s memories that he hadn’t realized had been locked away, there was a lot more pain and darkness that he had to atone for now than he did before.

~*~

Layne stepped off the elevator and made her way towards interrogation room six. She couldn’t help but hesitate in front of room five, she opened the door and peeked inside the empty space noting that it had long been put back to order and the blood scrubbed from the floor from her and Danny going at it. Shaking herself slightly she closed the door again and slid into the observation room of room six.

Danny was standing in front of the glass with his arms folded over his chest, he was wearing khaki colored skinny jeans and a denim button-up shirt. His brown curls were piled on top of his head, the tighter ringlets flopping down on his forehead. Stark had worked with Danny on upgrading the enhancers and the smaller, sleeker box reflected the dull light of the small television that was recording the interrogation going on in the adjoining room.

He turned his gaze away momentarily to see who joined him before going back to watching Natasha try to get information out of the girl they had brought back from the Hydra base.

“If you’re here, why did Fury call me? I was dealing with Bucky,” Layne groused. Her brother also had the same powers of persuasion that Layne had so she couldn’t help the tone of frustration that leaked into her voice.

“I don’t want you to talk to her, I want you to come to look at her,” Danny responded, his eyes never leaving the girl’s face. “Besides, I already tried to persuade her, her barrier blocks that.”

Layne stepped up to the glass with a sigh.

“I heard the alert for Rogers and Banner go out. Everything okay?” Danny asked finally looking at his baby sister fully.

Layne nodded as she tried to smooth her chocolate locks into a ponytail. She had popped into her room before heading down and changed from her pajamas to a pair of black jeans and a plain white v-neck shirt.

“Yeah. I finally got through to both of his sides and I think they broke the mental partition that was put up. Steve is furious and he’s demanding that Shuri come in from Wakanda and take a look.”

Danny pulled a face and rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen her inventions and was lucky enough to look over some of her blueprints. Hank and I were working with her on designs for a better jet back at the manor, but what the Sergeant has isn’t really something you can fix artificially. The princess is much more willing to listen and learn from outside sources than Rogers is, don’t worry.”

Layne hummed in acknowledgment as she finally took a chance to really look at the small girl in front of them. She had been allowed to bathe and was given a SHIELD shirt and a pair of black sweatpants to change into. Whether from emaciation or just being small in general, she looked like she was drowning in them. Her hair had been roughly shaved and micro-abrasions littered her scalp from where the clippers bit into her skin. She had chewed the skin from her bottom lip until it was cracked and bleeding and her wary eyes never left Natasha’s face even as she refused to answer any questions posed to her.

The girl couldn’t have been more than eighteen and despite the gaunt hollows of her cheeks and eyes, there was a niggling feeling of recognition in Layne’s gut. It was in the girl’s eyes, the deep warm caramel of them, how even though she was wary and on guard, there was still an angry fire blazing in them. As Layne’s own caramel eyes examined the girl’s face closer she noticed the soft slope of the bridge of her nose and the way her chin jutted out in indignation at a particularly unnecessary question from Nat.

“How old are Michael’s kids? His oldest? Madeline?” Layne whispered, realization and fear sitting heavy in her gut. The last time she had seen her niece and nephew was at her high school graduation party. Madeline had been five or six at the time which would put her right around this girl’s age.

“I don’t know,” Danny admitted. “I couldn’t even tell you his wife’s name.”

“Ex. Cheryl. She called me a couple years ago when she caught Michael fucking his TA.” Layne’s eyes never left the girl in the room even when Danny let out a sharp bark of surprised laughter. She called up her power to the surface in an attempt to get the girl to recognize them and got exactly what she was hoping for.

The small girl in the room caught a feeling of Layne’s power manifesting and immediately threw up a mental barrier, her caramel eyes lighting up with an amber flame that even had Natasha sitting back in her chair with realization. Natasha turned in her seat to look over her shoulder through the one-way glass. Danny reached forward and knocked on the glass once with trembling knuckles and Natasha nodded slightly.

Layne let out the breath she had been holding and let her powers fade back out. Natasha had exited the interview room and entered the observation room with the siblings.

“What do you guys want to do?” Natasha asked.

“I’ll make the calls,” Layne said, already pulling out her phone.

#bucky barnes x layne hardin #winter soldier x layne hardin #winter soldier #winter soldier fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #shadows on the horizon #marvel #marvel fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfiction

35 notes · View notes

the960writers · 6 years

Text

Cringe Tag

@halfbloodlycan tagged me for this, thank you!

Rules

i. post a quote or short excerpt from your early days of writing (i’m talking old fanfics, slash fics, original fics, etc., that are barely edited and have a ton of technical errors and misspelled words). this is the cringe part. don’t edit anything! let it be horrendous. don’t panic.

ii. post a quote or short excerpt from your most recent works/WIPs. something that you’re proud of. something that you’ve written that makes you smile when you read it.

iii. tag a writer you admire, anyone who you think is amazing, new friends, followers, writeblrs, anyone you’d like to know more about. if you think someone is a great writer and you want to see how they’ve developed their skills, tag them! everyone started somewhere.

I’m tagging @thatwriternamedvolk, @tsfennec, @hklunethewriter, @bymeganwithmeraki and @jfictitional

Ok, ahem, I have a confession to make... I’m actually a baby writer, I haven’t been at this very long.

My oldest fiction writing (apart from the horse stories I typed up on a mechanical typewriter 30 years ago, those are... I don’t know where) is also my first thing, first fanfiction I have written and it’s from November 2012. That’s not that long ago. I mean, aren’t you supposed to write a million words for at least ten years to call yourself a writer? I don’t know, I never cared for rules.

But the thing is, I don’t cringe about that old fanfic. I know it’s rough and the prose is clumsy and the grammar has german influences, but still. I’m proud of what I did, that I dared to write that first smutty chapter and publish it just like that. I didn’t know anybody, I didn’t know if anybody would read it and I didn’t worry if it was good enough. I had read thousands of fanfics before and I approached my own with the conviction “I can do that too.” (I wish I could have bottled up that confidence for later days...). And it’s not even finished yet! I’m still writing it, 294260 words later.

So here it is, a non-smutty section of my first writing (Mass Effect fanfiction, shakarian):

"Yes, good. Keep going." Dr. Chakwas stepped over to him and scanned Shepard with her omni-tool. "I know this is awkward, Vakarian. I wasn't joking when I suggested that you sing to her. Turian singing uses subharmonics as a second harmonic voice and it looks like those have an effect on her."

Garrus wondered how this human doctor knew so much about turians.

She turned to him and smiled. "I'm the leading medical expert on turians in the Alliance. I'm fairly certain that Spectre Kryik owes his survival to my knowledge and abilities."

Garrus acknowledged her explanation with a nod, he was quite impressed. While asari doctors were known for their interspecies studies, he had never heard of a human doctor being an expert in a non-human species.

Of course, singing on cue was just as hard as speaking on cue and it took him a little while until his brain came up with the melody of a recent hit song from an asari-turian pop band. He was botching it at first, but he slowly got the sub-harmonies settled and added the rather stupid lyrics with his main vocals. Garrus had never been in a singing class but he'd been complimented on his singing voice before. He actually managed to do quite well on this song.

Dr. Chakwas smiled at him, encouraging him onward while she continued scanning over Shepard's body. For long, agonizing minutes nothing changed. Garrus started the song over, more confidence in his voice this time and laying more power in his subharmonics.

The hand, that he held in his, twitched. He noticed it before he even heard the sharp intake of breath from Dr. Chakwas. She frantically typed something on her omni-tool, while she nodded to Garrus to continue.

Another twitch, a flicker from Jane's eyelids. Her hand suddenly grabbed his with all her strength. It was almost painful. Garrus steeled himself for another attack of nightmarish screaming spasms like they had experienced the few times before when Dr. Chakwas had tried to wake her.

Garrus kept singing the stupid song, the words meaningless, his subvocal hum carrying the tune. It was different his time. She did not spasm, she did not heave in air to scream it out again as loud as she could. Her eyelids fluttered and her breath was calm. She still held his hand, her grip strong but not painful anymore. Garrus let himself hope that finally, this time, she would really wake up.

When her eyes opened and locked onto his, he was relieved to see them as normal as they had always been. The few times before, when she had opened her eyes, a greenish light had shimmered in them and she had not seen anybody. This time, her eyes had the familiar greyish-blue tint that he knew.

She looked at him and the song got stuck in his throat. She tried to speak but her throat seemed to be sore, no wonder after all the screaming she had done before. She began coughing and Dr. Chakwas helped her to sit up. Her hand never left his.

Finally, her throat was clear and her voice was only slightly raspy when she spoke to him: "Hey, my Angel. You're here!"

Garrus's subharmonics trilled out whole songs of his happiness. "Yes, I'm here Sunshine, Spirits, I'm so glad you came back." He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers.

"I heard your voice, I heard you sing," she whispered, "was that an old song that your mother sang to you when you were young?"

"Spirits, I wish I had thought of that," Garrus chuckled, his forehead still on hers. He had no intention of changing his position soon. "It's just a current pop song from an asari-turian band. They sing about how they can't share food and how unfair that is."

Shepard burst out laughing and behind him he heard Dr. Chakwas quietly snicker to herself. "Well, it was the most beautiful song I have ever heard," Shepard said, still laughing. "You should sing more often."

"I'll do anything, Jane, anything for you," Garrus blurted out before he could stop himself. He wanted to pull away but she did not let him. Her hand had creeped up to the back of his head and she was holding his head with her hand under his fringe. Her soft lips met his mouth plates and he felt himself fall into the world of only her and her kiss.

A soft cough from the doctor made them break apart. "If I could get access to my patient now, I need to run some more tests on her. I'm glad that you are back with us, Shepard, but I have to make sure that it stays that way."

#writer tag game #cringe tag #my old fanfic #i'm still working on this!#I forgot about part 2!!

6 notes · View notes

gregoriusism-blog · 5 years

Text

Stuck in the holms short story

Stuck in the holms Erik opened his eyes. He stood up and looked around him. He was on a tropical beach he’d never seen before. “How did I end up here?” he whispered disquieted. He tried to recall recent events. His mind was blank. “Think, think!” he squeezed his mind harder. He remembered being in Stockholms’ metro train on 24th February 2016. The train headed towards Rinkeby, the area he lived. He could also remember himself checking the internet with his android. He wanted to attend a party in the city center. “And then what?” he asked himself. He recalled that he had found out that the party would take place in a club near Sergels Torg. After that, no memory, nothing. A cold chill ran down his spine. “An amnesia?” his loud voice grated like a false note. His words momentarily disrupted the harmonious sound of the sea waves that splashed to the shore. The overwhelming continuity of the whistling wind sent their remembrance swiftly to oblivion. A calmness replaced his unsettlement. “Okay Erik,” he talked to himself, “there has to be a reasonable explanation for this.” Squatting, he gathered his thoughts. “First goal, establish identity. Who am I?” Working as a bank clerk with a passion for collecting empty butter bean cans instead of recycling them, Erik was an otherwise normal guy. Relatively tall, average built, blue eyes, late 20s. A lower middle class person. “Ja, det är jag.” he confirmed in his mother language, Swedish. Then, he observed his clothing; a brown leather jacket, a blue shirt and military green pants. The same clothes he wore the night the stream of his memory stopped. Nevertheless, grey salty stains tainted these now weathered garments, signifying their exposure to sea and time. “What's the date?” he glanced at his wrapped around his wrist watch. A watch that told the time right only for 1 second a day. Water must have seeped in. “50 meters underwater resistance! 1 – year guarantee!” Erik spat angrily on the ground and instantly regretted it; a survivor must always retain liquids, until he finds a sustainable way to replenish them. “Sjit!” he cursed and habitually spat again which made him even more angry and about to spit again. “Jävla idiot!” he barked and held his chin with his hands to prevent himself from wasting saliva. And then, the answer came to him like the sensation of a fluffy towel covering his cheeks. “About 3 inches,” Erik fiddled his newly discovered beard. “I’ve left a beard in the past and remember it grew about an inch per month.” He further calculated: “So, at least three months must have passed since that day. This means we must be nearing the end of May.” He noticed he was already sweating. “Was I involved in a plane or a ship tragedy?” Erik wondered as he took off his jacket. The removal of the jacket made him feel open and vulnerable. He searched his body for recent wounds, especially around the head. No wounds, nothing. His hair appeared longer though, which made his hypothesis of the 3 month time lapse even more plausible. He looked around him. The left and right hand sides of the beach curved in the distance. Tropical trees covered the entrance to the beach. Erik was standing on fine sand. “Moreover,” he inquired, “am I standing on an island or on mainland? I have to find out." He made a mental note of his starting point and began to walk counterclockwise. If he was on an island, he would meet at the same point where he started. “Plus,” he added, “if I find plane or ship debris, I will know for sure that I was travelling in it and that some tragedy happened.” He prayed he was in the mainland. That would increase his chances of being found. If on the contrary he was on an island, he at least hoped he could find a means to survive and a means to call for help or to escape. The beach line continued to curve leftwards. If at some point the line turned to the right, it would increase the probability of him being in the mainland. On his right hand side, heat induced steam blurred the horizon, making it impossible to see far into the distance. In front of him, several piled up boulders formed a wall of nature and hid what lay behind them. Erik approached the wall and walked parallel to it. He stepped into the water and the sensation of wetness felt unpleasant. Sea urchins decorated the rocky seabed. With waddling movements, Erik avoided stepping on them. After reaching the right hand side of the boulder pile, he leaped. His feet rose above the water surface and dived in again like infant dolphins, the buoyancy of the sea slightly slowing their descent, as if they landed on the moon. No quaint scenery as that of the moon behind the rocks, though. Just the place he started. "An island it is then," Erik calmly said. Strangely, he expected this to happen. It took him only 2 hours to reach his starting point, which signified a small island. He didn't notice any signs of ship or plane remnants around the perimeter of the island. “No survivors to be found or supplies from debris," he concluded. "Possibly nobody lives here. So, what follows is: can someone survive here?” The word survive resurfaced long withheld and cast aside sensations: hunger and thirst. “When did I eat for the last time?” he asked himself. “Did I have anything within the last 8 hours?” After several brash attempts of swallowing air and squeezing his stomach with his abs to burp, he ended up with a bland: “ErrrrP!” “My stomach is empty. I haven’t had food for at least a day.” His dread came back stronger “Mat!! Vatten!!!” A buzzing sound headed towards his left ear. The Doppler Effect in effect. The effect that the Doppler Effect in effect had on Erik, was to make him jump to the side. He looked towards the source of the buzz. A giant wasp near the size of his fist did its afternoon aerobatics! Some people are terrified when they see bugs. But not Erik. Erik stood his ground. He wouldn't let something that was bugging him get away so easily. He duck carefully and dug a lump of sand with his palm. “Eat this!” he said and threw the sand towards his perceived annoyance. The sand particles scattered like a double barreled shotgun shot and showered on the abnormally big insect. The wasp fled and entered the forest. “There you go,” Erik triumphantly said. “I’m not done yet!” Erik felt the last remnants of his panic fade away. His hunger and thirst reduced in intensity. He still breathed and would not give up so easily! There had to be a way out of the island and there had to be food and water around. How did that huge insect grow so big anyway? “So, two things need to be found: location and food. Which one goes first?” The periphery of his eagle eyed vision caught something interesting: towards the center of the island, beyond the forest, a mountain protruded from the ground. It appeared to be roughly 100m tall. “Jättebra!” he exclaimed in Swedish. “I’ll see if I can make it to the top. That will give me a clear view of the surrounding area. And since I haven’t been to the forest, I might find nutritional resources.” An eerie and mysterious aura came from the forest. “Danger,” Erik thought, “any type of protection nearby?” The border of the forest was populated with fallen tree branches. He searched for a piece of wood that could classify as a crude version of a quarter staff. A relatively thick and straight piece of wood that matched the above description lay in front of him. Erik picked up the branch. Hoping not to have to use his newly acquired weapon, Erik took a deep breath and delved deep into the forest. *** Three small islands surrounded the island Erik inhabited. The first formed a triangle, the second a square and the third a pentagon. The one he stood on was a perfect circle! “Am I dreaming?” Erik said and pinched himself on the hand. The pain felt real and it didn't wake him up. "This cannot happen in nature." he said. Baffled, he began to descend. You might now wonder, what happened before Erik climbed up. Some unidentified non – fruit bearing trees came his way. He also spotted some mysterious tropical bugs, none of which looked as grotesque as the enormous wasp he saw before. Thankfully, at the base of the mountain, a pond with drinkable water resided along with some fruit bearing banana trees; a spectacle that made Erik yell disgusted “Attans bananer!” a Swedish expression that means “dammit!” Yes, Erik hated bananas and now he had to eat them to survive. But, just as he had come to terms with the idea of eating this fruit for sustainance and just as he was finishing his descent, he noticed a change in the scenery. No more pond, and no more banana trees. "Attans bananer!" Erik yelled again, this time with longing instead of disgust. His disgust instantly turned to surprise, as he realised he wasn't alone. A 4 feet tall, female greenish faerie looking creature with large pointy ears and earthly brown curly hair stared at him with a smirk on her face. “Hello human!” the creature greeted with an almost helium balloon ingested voice. “You are right, as you said, this cannot happen in nature! Only aliens can do this!” *** Erik’s jaw dropped. “Al… iens?” he stuttered. "How is this possible?" “It's possible," the creature replied, "because aliens do exist." Erik did not reply and stared dazzled. The female figure carried on with the introductions: "I’m ix2,” she said, “and I belong to the Pako race.” “How did you know what I considered?" Erik snapped out of his mental paralysis. "Are you telepathic?" "Telepathy doesn’t work as you think it does. But even if it did, I wouldn’t need to use any; you were thinking out loud.” “I guess I did.” Erik realized and then inquired, slightly annoyed: “Were you spying on me?” “You are our guest,” the female faerie looking alien replied. "It’s only natural we would be interested in observing a guest.” Erik remembered his amnesia. “Why have I forgotten how I got here?” he demanded. ix2 coldly worded: “Because it is part of the process." "What process?" "Well, in technical terms, we have abducted you.” “Vad?!?” Erik barked. “How dare you kidnap me! Set me free now or I’ll beat the hell out of you!” Erik lifted his arm and waved it like a vibrating from an earthquake pylon. ix2 yawned. “The intricacies of human languages. You are not a kid and you’re not taking a nap.” Then she turned her head towards Erik: “You are not a threat to us human. Relax and I’ll explain.” “Okay,” Erik agreed and put his anger aside. “I’m listening.” “You are part of an experiment, we are studying your species. And the test subject, happens to be you.” “What happened to my memories?” “Your memories will be withheld from you until the end of the experiment. You must not remember, otherwise this experiment will lose its purpose.” Erik sat on the ground, his head tilting downwards. “I... I... what am I supposed to do here?” he stammered desperately. “Oh... humans,” the she-alien said, “always their emotions getting the best out of them.” ix2 waved an arch with her hands above her head. “You are free to explore these islands, human,” she encouraged him, “there are many interesting things you can discover. In time, you might even begin to like our secret hideout.” “What?!?” Erik bellowed and got up performing an unreal movement, as if someone filmed his falling before and played it in reverse. “Me, like this place? Never!” “You’ll see, you can satisfy all your desires here.” ix2 winked. “The only thing you can’t do is leaveee.” That last v sounded prolonged and had a subtle giggle in it. Erik grimaced, his facial features blending between indignation and disgust. "But I have to leave," ix2 disregarded Erik's anger. Her body began to fade away. “I’ve raised paths that can take you from one island to the next," she announced. Just before she completely disappeared, ix2 said with a singing voice: “And who knows who you'll meet there?” *** Erik, on the other hand had no desire to meet anybody. “I've got to get out of here!" he spluttered and spit got out of his mouth. "But how?” he immediately thought afterwards. “This place is like a prison, cut out from the world.” “I’ve heard that aliens usually collaborate with governments to make their experiments.” Erik thought. “So what if there’s a federal craft lying around?” He scanned the island in search for a means of escape. He noticed that many of the fruitless trees now bore edible fruit. Many artificial ponds were formed out of nowhere. Erik tested the water and confirmed he could drink it. Spending most of the day searching the circular island, he found no abandoned vessels nor other life forms. He did locate the pathways ix2 mentioned. “I’m too exhausted,” Erik thought. “I’ll continue my search tomorrow.” He found an opening in the forest that looked safe enough and dropped flat on the ground. Just before falling asleep, Erik momentarily thought about his previous life in Stockholm. A cold climate yet shelter that provided physical comfort. Nothing like here. He swiftly drifted into the realm of Morpheus. *** Erik woke up tired. The physical exhaustion from his unused muscles started to show up. “The amnesia is artificial caused by aliens,” Erik thought, “so it might not be possible to undo it.” The remembrance of his encounter with ix2 before reignited his indignation. “Jävla sjit!” he grunted. He got up and fetched his staff. “I am going to escape!” he declared determined. He decided to first visit the triangular island, then the square and lastly the pentagonal one. Then, he came up with a terrible realization. “The aliens are telepathic and can read my thoughts!” he realised and felt a cold chill running through his spine like a slithering defrosted snake. “If that is so, there is nothing I can do. It's as if I’m an average chess player competing with the most powerful chess engine on the planet! Is it even possible to win?” "Telepathy doesn’t work as you imagine," Erik remembered ix2’s words. He didn't understand what the alien meant, but if telepathy didn't work as he thought it did, maybe the aliens were not able to read his thoughts after all. It gave him some hope. He didn't have anything to lose by trying to find a way out. Pointing with the edge of his staff towards the triangular island, he exclaimed: “Let’s do it!” and began walking. The bridge lay ahead. Erik noticed it was formed out of sand, as if the bottom of the ocean had lifted itself to make for a safe passage between the isles. Erik crossed the bridge and explored the triangular isle thoroughly. Apart from the edges of the triangle looking severely acute, nothing stood out, nothing that indicated the island hid any means of escape. Crossing the next connecting bridge, he proceeded to the square isle. Nothing out of the ordinary in that island. Only some different type of vegetation. “My last hope,” he muttered, “the pentagonal one. Come on!” His search there revealed nothing again. Frustrated, Erik returned to the circular island and ate some bananas, while at the same time he mumbled, “Jävla potatisar!” and not attans bananer. He longed for potatoes, you see. “Suo, whapt nown?” he said chewing and threw the last banana leaf on the sand. “It seamz therez now wey aut” he gulped. “Or, if there is, it is very well hidden! The clues have to be more subtle.” He strained his mind to remember for signs, and noticed that as he strode through the islands before, he focused too much on the external environment and his mood swings went under the radar. More specifically, on the triangular island, he couldn’t help but think about the opposite sex. On the square isle he constantly thought about his friends and family and finally on the pentagonal isle, he felt the need to delve deep into philosophical conversations. Could that have been a coincidence? The sun directly above Erik’s head signified the start of midday. “Guess I still have time to look into this today. I’ll go for another island tour.” Even though he had apparently secured his daily food and water supply and could possibly survive for months, Erik felt he had to make haste. Making it look like a tour frenzy in an exotic island family, Erik did notice that his mood indeed changed when he entered each specific island; thoughts about women on the triangle, family and relatives on the square and philosophical topics on the pentagon. But, nothing more than that. “That’s too deliberate to be a coincidence,” Erik thought. “Is this what ix2 meant before – something about satisfying my desires?” “I haven’t had a girlfriend for some time now, I don’t visit my family often, and the discussions I have with my friends are not deep enough. So, ix2 and her kin seem to know my true desires.” A feeling of powerlessness overwhelmed him. “They know me, but I don’t know them! What can I do against such an opponent? Really, nothing!” Erik fell on his knees and covered his face with his palms. It felt like game over. Stuck in these mysterious holms, no way out, he would be a witless pawn until the end. Then, as he opened his eyes, his peripheral vision caught a figure in the sea. It looked like a man with a beard. Erik’s head began to turn to the left. The figure began moving. Erik’s head turned more, rotating at 45 degrees. Figure still not still and blurry. A giant fish maybe diving into the ocean? Fish scales glittering from the sunlight. His eyes finally locked on the target. The image became clear; the end of a fishes’ tail sinking into the ocean and water splashing upwards. “Hey!” Erik shouted and like a metal spring detached from its metal hook, he stood up. “Vänta! Wait!” He ran to the shore, a distance nearly 50 meters from where he saw that… thing? The aquatic life form had vanished. “Where did it go?” Erik asked both excited and terrified. Excited due to his renewed hopes of escape and terrified because, what on the seven seas was that? His mind automatically assembled the puzzle pieces and he got the final picture: a male mermaid. Erik wondered: “Could this be another alien race that participates in the experiment as well?” "No time for that," he muttered as he returned to the present moment. “Where did the creature go?” Circular waves propagated from where the mysterious life form sank. Inside the water, a myriad undulating lines began from the diving point and lead towards... “There!” Erik grunted and fixed his gaze at the end of the line trajectory. The creature had cautiously resurfaced from the water, to breathe or to see if Erik had lost it. “Got you now!” Erik shouted and sprinted towards it. His arms opened as if he held a fishing net, ready to throw it at his amphibian spy. The mermaid, surprised, dove again into the water and tried to escape. However, its motion kept disturbing the water, making it easy for Erik to keep track of its location. The chase continued for a couple of minutes. Who would tire first, Erik or his prey? Erik believed that the mermaid would and could, swim into the deep ocean. However, for some strange reason, the creature didn’t. “Could this be a setup as well?” Erik slowed down suspicious. At that instant, the amphibian halted. Erik immediately stopped. “If the creature was exhausted it would gradually slow down before stopping. Not like this. Smells fishy.” The creature then rose from the water. From the waist up a middle aged man with a yellowish rough skin looked at Erik with calm eyes. He carried a white long beard. From the waist down, a fish's tail took the place of where normally feet would grow. A mermaid. Erik examined the masculine figure further. A pendant hang across his neck. An elliptical stone was attached on the pendant. “Who are you?” Erik asked cautiously. “Why were you spying on me?” “I wasn’t spying,” the mermaid replied with a naturally deep voice. “I was just curious.” “Curious of what?!?” Erik continued interrogating. “Of what a human is doing alone in these islands.” “You mean you don’t know? You’re not part of the experiment?” "The experiment?” the he – mermaid asked. “What are you talking about?" “I mean the experiment! ” Erik shot back angrily. "THE EXPERIMENT! JÄVLA!” The last words came pouring out of his mouth like hot magma and it also physically felt like it, as a stream of stomach acid regurgitated and burned his tongue. It all sounded too convenient. A mermaid, who by coincidence could speak English. Who was he trying to fool? “How is it that you speak English?” Erik blew hot steam out of his lips. “Speaking?” the humanoid asked. "You do not hear my voice right now, I'm transmitting my thoughts to you.” The creature was telling the truth. Erik felt so dazzled about the situation that he didn't notice the mermaid's mouth being constantly shut. “My language,” the mermaid man continued, “is not comprehensible by humans, because humans can’t hear high pitched sounds. I can only send you my thoughts and your brain translates them to your language.” Erik stood silent, listening. “So, about the experiment,” the mermaid insisted, “care to tell me about it?” Erik didn’t know the true intentions of the humanoid, but he let go of his resistance and told him about his loss of memory, about his encounter with ix2, the Pakos and the experiment. “Peculiar,” the creature finally broke its silence, “this place drew me because of the energy irregularities around the area. Little did I know.” Erik interrupted: “Are you really a mermaid?” “Yes, we have an underground civilization that many of your species suspect exist.” “What’s your name?” “Tetr’ton.” “I’m Erik.” “Pleased to meet you Erik.” Erik remembered ix2's words: Telepathy doesn't work as you imagine. By saying that, she implied that it was not possible to read thoughts with telepathy. Yet this new entity, suggested otherwise. Erik planned to shed light into the topic. “ix2 said that it is not possible to talk to each other by thought. Yet here you are, disproving him. Did he lie to me?” “That could be,” Tetr’ton replied, “and it is also possible that ix2s’ kind has a different form of telepathy, a less evolved one.” “What does a less evolved form of telepathy look like?” Erik curiously asked. “I would suspect, according to how the history of how our species evolved, that the alien race of ix2 can read emotions. They can feel how another person feels. We mermaids can feel what others feel and read their thoughts.” “I see,” Erik said, satisfied by Tetr’tons’ explanation. “Where are we anyway?” “We are in what you humans call the Pacific Ocean.” “The Pacific?” Erik shouted. “How on Earth did I end up here?” Then Erik remembered his alien induced amnesia. His desire to leave his prison became stronger. Looking around for a means to escape, his eyes locked on Tetr’ton. “Could you transfer me back on a continent please?” “No, unfortunately,” Tetr’ton replied. “I cannot swim such a long distance.” “Can anybody from your home help me?” “I don’t think they would be willing to meet you. Mermaids are very suspicious of outsiders.” The he – mermaid then looked to be thinking of something. When he finally spoke, if one could assign a smell on his words, that would have been the scent of roses. “I explored the islands as you did,” Tetr’ton said, “and realized that each island can grant true some of your desires.” Erik connected the dots. “So it wasn’t just my idea when I had different impulses on each island. However, these were just fantasies. Nothing of what I imagined came true.” “That's because you didn’t stay very long in each island,” the mermaid man said, “it takes time to materialise a thought, even with the aid of alien technology.” “I see,” Erik nodded, “so this is what the aliens want me to do, study me when I act on my desires.” “That doesn't sound so bad!” Tetr’ton exclaimed. “Is he trying to manipulate me?” Erik thought and inquired: “When I chased you earlier, why did you stop? And why haven’t the aliens caught you yet?” “I didn't sense any hostility in you,” Tetr’ton replied. “You were not trying to harm me, so I halted. The aliens cannot detect me because I stay hidden in a different vibrational frequency universe.” Erik knew that he should have taken what Tetr’ton said with a pinch of salt, wrong, two pinches of salt. However, he felt he had no choice. “Have you searched what’s beneath the surface?” Erik demanded. “Is there any underwater passage you have noticed?” “No.” Tetr'ton flatly stated. “Jävla,” Erik thought and exhaled with a snarl. “if what this creature says is true, I’m stuck here.” The feeling of powerlessness came back. Erik sat on the sand. “What am I going to do now?” “I don’t know,” Tetr’ton said, “if I were you, I would have gone with the flow; let them take their results and hope to return home in the future, if they allowed me to.” “Can you call for help?” Erik asked desperate. “It will take a long time to contact the nearest human authorities. I have duties to attend to and cannot abandon them. Also, not me nor any of my people would risk revealing themselves to humans.” It seemed there was nothing else that Erik could do. Maybe the way out was in. And then again, who knew what the aliens really had in store for him? It might have been something good. If he attempted to escape, with his limited survival knowledge he would have probably drowned in the ocean. “Alright,” he decided, “I'll just have to see the end of this!” *** Erik began from the pentagonal isle. The idea of meeting a woman made him nervous. “Go with the easy ones, first. Plus, I find philosophical topics intriguing.” He walked to the island and, as before, his desire to discuss about philosophical topics became stronger. “What's going to happen if I stay longer than before?” Erik wondered. "Time to see!” Sitting on the sand, Erik observed the environment; the sun and the small waves that splashed on his feet. "They all look beautiful," he thought, "but are they real?" What Erik had in mind was the limited perception of the senses. Humans can only see colors in the red – violet spectrum and hear sounds with frequency between 20 to 20000 hertz. Erik cast a stone that splashed against the deceitfully beautiful waves and sank into the seabed. He whispered indignated: “What’s really out there is not what I see!” “Both correct and incorrect,” a gentle female voice intervened. “Vad? Who’s there?” Erik barked and turned his head towards the source of the voice. A tall, young woman stood in front of him. She had long brown hair that glittered in the sun and wore a white dress. Her oval shaped head was adorned with attractive Mediterranean features: dark eyebrows, light brown eyes and naturally fleshy lips. Despite her physical beauty though, there was a non – sexual quality about her. Even though Erik couldn't recollect ever seeing her, he felt comfortable in her presence, as if he already knew her. “Your observation is correct,” the woman agreed, “your physical senses perceive only a part of the universe. However, the universe is made from self – repetitions, similarity under different scales.” “Fractals?” Erik suggested. “The theory of chaos?” “Yes,” the woman agreed. “You see a limited part of the universe, yet, within that limited part, the whole of the universe is contained. So, in a sense you are the universe, and thus, you are limitless.” “Oh, I’ve never thought of that,” Erik said surprised. “Where have you heard that, did you think it by yourself? And who are you anyway?” “I’m Eravia,” the woman said, “and I’m here to assist you in this experiment.” “You really want to assist me?” Erik demanded. “Then show me the way out!” The woman smiled. “You think it’s all about you? You don’t think about contributing to the greater good?” “I like to be asked before participating in something. I don't like being forced to do things!” “The experiment requires that you have no choice!” the woman explained. “I see,” Erik gravely nodded. “In response to your previous question though, I do like to contribute to the greater good. It’s not all about me, I’m not selfish!” “That’s fine,” Eravia smiled, “it’s good that you like to help the whole. However, you’re mistaken; it is all about you.” “Hurså?” Erik asked. “The world you see around you, is filtered through your senses, your beliefs and your emotions. You see that mountain over there and you think it is lonely. You see the color grey and you associate it with dullness and mundanity. You do that.” “Are you saying that…” “Yes,” the woman agreed, “everything is neutral in the cosmos and you give it a value, good or bad. The world you perceive, is a reflection of you. Nothing really exists, but you.” “That’s nonsense,” Erik said, “other people and other life forms exist as well.” “They do,” the woman replied, “but what they reflect to you is a part of yourself.” “That is difficult to digest,” Erik stated, even though he could grasp what Eravia meant. Eriks’ thoughts of escaping returned. “So, what is the point of this discussion, apart that it’s interesting?” “The only point is that you satisfy your desires. If by having a mentally stimulating dialogue this can be achieved, then so be it.” “I see,” Erik nodded, “I think I need some time now to process this. Can I stay by myself?” “Of course you can,” the woman said and vanished like hot steam. Erik thought this through. His desires. Here he had a chance to fulfill them. Back in Stockholm, it was very difficult to find people with common interests. He had a very small circle of friends and didn't even have a girlfriend. Maybe, this experiment benefitted him as well. “I’ve always tried to satisfy the needs of others,” he reflected, “never my own. In this place I could finally do that.” Realising what this implied, he snapped out of it and angrily kicked the sand. The sand particles scattered in the air before becoming absorbed by the waves. “I shouldn't think like that,” he reconsidered, “my goal is to find a way out. I'll stick to that.” “Should I proceed now to the square island?” he wondered. The sun was close to set but it was still day, so he had time for one more visit. As he crossed the bridge to the square isle, he cogitated upon his earlier conversation with Eravia. That… woman? “A Youniverse,” he thought, “however, no matter where I look, I can’t see my face!” And then, realizing he hadn’t looked at his face ever since he set foot on these islands, he searched for a natural mirror. He stood over the edge of the sand bridge and studied his reflection on the water. The beard on his face made him look rough and tired. But something on the top of his head woke him up. “Why is my hair so short?” Erik wondered as he checked his scalp. The hair did not exceed 1 inch in length. “I would never cut my hair military style,” Erik thought, “I prefer it longer, around 5 – inches.” Him having shorter hair could only mean one thing for him: The aliens cut his hair. “A very sloppy job, with a lack of taste, I must say," he continued as he rubbed his palm on his scalp to soothe his irritation. He then said: “Is it possible for a haircut to be a trigger for past events? What if I try to remember?” Erik sat and began straining his mind to recall the past. Nothing came up. “Oh, shoot,” he gave up, “I think I’ll just get going.” Erik did not set foot on the square island until late afternoon. Maybe an hour or two before sunset. “Let’s see now what I’ll manifest…” Erik said, then sat near a palm tree and laid his back on it. He closed his eyes but accidentally fell asleep. But not for too long. The sound of drums woke him up. Opening his eyes, Erik realised that the sun had set. Tangent sunrays from the horizon made seeing difficult, but not impossible. He followed the source of the sound. In the forest, an artificial source of light could be seen in the distance. Catching his breath, Erik began to approach the illuminated place. As he closed in, he noticed the pacing of the drum; not festive but not sad either. Rather ceremonial. He approached to the point he could see. A group of people sat around a fire. Above the burning flames, a cauldron boiled… something? The people looked like africans dressed in native american clothes. A drummer in the side played... a drum. A woman sat on the opposite side of the circle and appeared to lead this ceremony. Erik accidentally stepped over a fallen tree branch. The branch snapped and made a creaking sound. “Jävla,” Erik grunted sotto voce and quickly hid behind a tree. The woman stood up. Around 1.8m in height, she differed from the rest of the group not only by being a woman but also by being white. The drummer halted. “You can come out Erik,” the woman urged him. Realizing that running or hiding wouldn’t serve him in any way, shape or form, Erik sidestepped and revealed himself. “What are you doing here?” he bluntly asked. “We are calling the great spirit,” the tall woman said. “Would you like to take part in it?” “Well, I don’t have any other choice,” Erik exhaled indifferently. “So, what am I, I mean are we, supposed to do?” “Just take your place in the circle.” Erik joined the ceremony. He felt a bit queasy about it, but also a bit curious. The drumming resumed. Erik observed the other members of that tribe. Even though he could swear he'd never seen them before, they all looked familiar. “Did I meet them during the amnesia period?” a fleeting thought passed through his mind. “But when?” Once more, he attempted to recall past events. Even the tiniest fragment of a memory, a shadow, a face, an image, anything could do. Nope. Nothing. Nada. His mind gave null output. “Herregud,” he mumbled with a screwed up face, “it seems my memories can only be recovered if the aliens allow it. And that pisses me off. Förbövulen!” Suddenly, the woman raised her hand. The drumming stopped. “It is time,” she articulated slowly and clearly, “for all of us to contact the great spirit!” Approaching the flames, she clutched a metal bowl and sank it inside the cauldron, filling it with the boiling brew. Next, she passed the bowl to the drummer who had a sip. Each of the tribe members drunk, until at last came Erik's turn. Erik held the bowl up close. Thick green vapour steamed from the bowl, obscuring its content. Erik didn't even want to imagine what was in that bowl. He just took a small sip and quickly passed it to the next spiritual seeker. It tasted quite good actually, like watered sugary oats. “Let's hope the experience is not bitter,” he muttered. While waiting for the effect of the drug to take place, Erik's thoughts revolved around the purpose of the square island. “It's supposed to be about friendship and social connections. However, when I think about having fun and going out with friends, that’s not what I have in mind." His anger boiled hotter than the steaming cauldron. "Are the aliens implying they know better? To hell with them!” The woman sat next to Erik. “So, how do you feel?” she asked with a soft voice. Erik turned and faced her. “I don’t feel anyth…” he started talking but then realized the woman looked very familiar as well. “Where have I seen her?” he wondered. His thoughts went fuzzy and couldn't concentrate anymore. “My sister said you paid her a visit,” the woman said and smiled. “She is the sister of Eravia,” Erik concluded, "that's what makes her familiar." He replied: “Yes I did. We had a meaningful conversation.” “That’s good,” Eravias’ sister nodded, “you’ll find though, that you don’t have to converse to communicate.” “How?” Erik laughed. The woman blinked. "The feeling of being connected is important here. Connection is communication and this potion you drunk, augments that feeling. Only then can you reach the state to see the great spirit.” “And what happens then?” Erik asked. “No more talking,” the woman said, “no more talking in or out. Just observe.” She returned to her place. “Observe what?!?” Erik asked himself. "There's nothing going on other than the sound of bong-bong!" And at that very moment, it happened. The color in the surrounding environment began to change rapidly. His hearing lost its acuity, as if someone shoved earplugs halfway through. And then he saw it: small mist clouds that travelled around the other participants. One cloud hovered above Erik's head. Erik knew that he saw all of this without using his physical eyes, which, in his altered state, seemed to be a very natural thing to do. An innate ability of the human race, residing latent inside the psyche and triggered only with the right circumstances. The mist started to change form until it molded itself into a wheel. “I’m the great spirit of these islands," a melodic voice announced. "What is it that you seek?” Sadly, by that time Erik had forgotten all his plans of escape. Partially because of the drugs and partially because at that moment, he felt better than in Stockholm. He also felt safer while in the presence of this… spirit? “Can I call you…” he uttered. “Bob?” the voice asked jokingly. “No, Margaret.” Erik replied without giving it too much thought. “Margaret it is then,” the spirit agreed. “What is it that you seek?” “I wanted to call you Margaret, that’s all.” The spirit sounded slightly annoyed. “You have the opportunity to speak with infinite wisdom and the only thing you want to know is if you can call it Margaret?” “Yesss.” Erik hissed and smiled sardonically. Suddenly, Erik could hear voices inside his head. Grunting, snarling and bellowing from his left ear and giggling, chuckling and laughter from his right one. Erik tried to understand what was going on, but couldn't. “Who cares anyway?” he whispered and at that moment, a flash blinded him. Yet he had a brief but clear vision: He saw his reflection on a mirror. He looked different. His hair reached around 5 - inches and he had no beard. His clothing stroke as peculiar, it reminded him of an astronaut suit made into a jacket. Cream and golden stripes started from the shoulders of the suit and connected to his diaphragm area. Behind the mirror he could see other people looking at their own mirrors. Their hair was becoming longer and shorter and it changed style, just by giving verbal commands to a computer device installed on the wall beneath the mirrors. Erik fixed his gaze at the strange device in front of him. “1 - inch hair please,” he requested. His hair immediately started to shorten up, until it reached the desired length. The vision faded away and Erik's eyesight returned. “What was that?!” Erik snarled, the bits and pieces of his mind reassembling in realization of what this could have been. “A memory?" he trembled. "I must get back to Stockholm, I must…” There was a sudden pain in the back of his skull and he lost consciousness. *** Erik could hear faint whispers just a few meters away. He couldn't move and when he tried to open his eyes, only blackness surrounded him. “Who hit my head?” he wondered and realized that the aliens most probably did. “This must have been a fragment of the last 3 – month period.” “I have to get out of this place,” he said, meaning both the blackness he fell in and the islands. He attempted to move his limbs, but could not. “My limbs,” he panicked, “I can’t feel my limbs!” “What have you done to me?” he tried to verbalize, but his mouth did not exist anymore. “You bastards!” he cursed before his awareness shattered into a pile of rubble. *** Upon waking up, Erik opened his eyes instantly. The sun was up and his body was at the same place, still intact. The ceremony had ended, and everyone was gone. Or maybe ceased to exist? He attempted to get up from the ground and felt relief that his limbs responded to his commands. “Vad i helvet… (what in hell)” he sweared but then, when he stood straight, a familiar gnomish figure was revealed. ix2 hid behind the cauldron and constantly observed Erik, her gaze penetrating through the thick fabric of the cauldron and following him steadily as he rose from the ground. “Speak of the devil,” Erik uttered disdainfully. "What are you up to now? Have you become a test subject in your own experiment? How humans behave in front of superior intelligence – heh, you’re about to find out.” ix2 replied cooly, however as she spoke, her eyebrows rose in contempt: “Diverting your acrimonious commentary, I’m here to inform you that last night you saw something you shouldn’t have.” “Should have,” Erik defiantly stated, “a part of my memory came back and you don’t like that!” “That wasn’t a memory,” ix2 said with icy cold words, “your own imagination was cast into a vision. You’re so obsessed with leaving this experiment that your brain manifested it.” “I'm not buying this,” Erik laughed and stared ix2 directly in the eyes. “I'm starting to remember and you’re trying to mislead me!” “Tell me,” ix2 persisted, “how can it be that people have their hair cut the way you saw it?” “First of all,” Erik aggressively shot back, “those people did not have their hair cut and secondly, how do you know what I saw?” ix2 smiled haughtily: “We know because we can scan your visual cortex and see what you see.” Erik felt stunned and numb. That, he couldn't have foreseen. They could even monitor his vision, that was bad. ix2 sombrely announced: "The experiment is going ahead as planned. I came here to let you know." “Your experiment is incomplete!” Erik grew even more indignated. “I’m able to fulfill some of my desires, but not my greatest: to be free.” “That’s not you want,” ix2 disagreed, “you're just escaping from life!” “Don’t assume to know what I want, you parasite,” Erik bellowed with steadily increasing intensity. “You’re not my counsellor and I didn’t ask for your advice. Go fuck yourself!” “Oh yes, I can be that as well,” ix2 said abrasively. “We study your behavior and that allows us to psychoanalyze you.” “That’s shit,” Erik spat again, “you have no idea about counselling.” “Okay then, how about this:” ix2 uttered, “you want to quit the experiment, not because you truly want to leave, but because…” “Because of what you space monkey?” “Because you fear to satisfy your desires.” “Raaghh!” Erik charged with his fist targeting ix2's face. His punch sunk deep into the sand. ix2 had vanished on time. “Damn you and your species,” Erik cursed as he started to wind down. It did give him some pleasure to lash out on the alien, plus it felt safe to do so; he didn't have the means to physically hurt them and he knew the Pakos needed him for the experiment in one piece, so they wouldn't harm him in return. There was however, something dark and mysterious in the way he attacked the alien. He didn't hesitate to charge forward and momentarily, he had the sensation he played the role of somebody else. Someone vile, who wouldn't think it twice to harm others if it suited his goals. But that sensation was quickly forgotten, as he found himself adopting tactics of psychological warfare. “What if I threaten them with suicide?” Erik wondered off the top of his head. "Me out of the equation might mess up their plans.” “Hey ix2,” Erik shouted out loud, “if you don’t let me go, I'll end my life! That will be the end of your experiment!” ix2's voice could be heard but she was nowhere to be seen. “You’re not going to kill yourself, human. We can read your intent. And your fear.” ix2 giggled on the “ar,” taunting Erik. ix2 went on: “Plus, even if you did commit suicide, it would still be a valid outcome of the experiment.” “Damn,” Erik sweared. “I wish you could read my thoughts: bitch - bitch - bitch!" A scornful silence from ix2's side signified the end of their conversation. Erik calmed down, eventually. He contemplated: “ix2 was also angry, therefore I must have struck a nerve by uncovering part of my memories. No matter how small the vision I had, it means that the mental block they've used is not unbreakable. And that gives me hope.” He reflected on his reclaimed memory fragment: “There is no human technology that I know of that can make hair grow and ungrow like that. This can only be… “Alien technology! What if I did meet with these beings and consented to do this experiment beforehand, whether willingly or by the use of force." The latter filled him with contempt and fueled his urge to run away. "The sooner I leave this place, the better." “But then again,” he reconsidered, “what was that about me being scared to satisfy my desires? I've already satisfied two of three.” Erik realized that the need to delve into deep conversations and to be in a community, he wasn’t afraid to satisfy. However, the idea of being with a woman terrified him. Not because he never had sex in his life, but because he hadn't reached deep intimacy with any of his previous partners. That had left him unfulfilled. “You're absolutely right,” Tetr’ton said. “Both of you.” Erik turned his head to the left and saw the head of the mermaid – man, half protruding from the surface of the sea. “Spying on me again?” Erik said as he padded his way near his mermaid acquaintance. He did feel thankful though to have found someone who was outside all of this. Tetr'ton rose from the water and the pendant he wore with the elliptical stone glittered in the sun. “I've been eavesdropping all the time you and your friend were chatting," he playfully said, "if this classifies as spying, then so be it.” “She's not my friend," Erik pretended to sound offended but swiftly dropped the acting. He instead asked curious: "Did you notice anything unusual while you were… eavesdropping?" Tetr'ton explained: “After the alien left, and you began thinking, your reasoning aligned with your emotions. At these moments, you were in touch with your own truth.” “So, things are that way,” Erik said. "I really fear to be intimate with women." “Yes," Tetr'ton confirmed, "however, I said I could read you both.” Erik's gaze became fixed on Tetr’ton. “And?” he impatiently asked. “ix2 is worried about you.” “Excuse me?!?” Eriks eyes opened wide. “She's worried about me?” “Yes, she did sound worried. Worried that you might harm yourself.” “They don't really care if I die, death is just another outcome of their experiment. What you say makes no sense!” “It is our species ability to read the thoughts and emotions of other beings. This is what ix2 felt and thought.” Erik brooded. “Erik,” Tetr’ton said, “you might not remember this…” “No, I don’t!” Erik shouted. “…but you have agreed to this experiment.” Erik’s jaw dropped: "What!" Tetr’ton went on: “Yes, you have signed a contract to participate in all this, before you lost your memories.” "So I suspected right!" Erik said. “There was something else," Tetr'ton added, "I couldn’t hold on to much detail, but what you’re participating in will have an impact on humanity.” “I prefer my actions to impact me!” “Believe it or not, whatever you choose to do, this experiment will save humanity and the broader family of intergalactic species!” “I have no idea what you're talking about,” Erik furrowed his eyebrows, “but if it’s to save the world, I guess I have no choice. It is a Youniverse after all. If I save the world, I'll also save myself.” Erik added with improved mood: “And maybe it will do me good to see to my needs?” “It will,” Tetr'ton confirmed. “So then, time to head towards the island I haven't yet visited: the triangular one.” “Alright Erik, I’ll see you later.” “See you later, my friend.” Erik took the path towards the triangular island. On the way there, he realized that the career he chose had as an ultimate goal to help him find a partner. The majority of men seek high social status and success in order to be a point of attraction for women. During the period of this experiment, he would get what many men don't get in their entire lifetime. “How is my life going to change after this is all over?” he wondered. Upon entering the triangular island, he immediately tuned to the vibe of the area, his wish of physical intimacy coming even stronger than before. Then he saw them, both Eravia and her sister, dressed in transparent white dresses and waiting for him. While previously Erik didn’t feel any attraction for any of the two females, this time, his heart started to race faster. Both Eravia and her sister beamed with desire. “Welcome,” Eravia said, “me and my sister Ykaria are glad that you decided to visit us.” “Are you even human?” Erik asked with trembling voice. “We are only partially human,” Ykaria explained. “We are holographic life forms, alive but not really alive. Yet, do not let this deceive you human, we are on the physical plane as human as any of the humans you can meet on your planet.” “And even more,” Erik smiled. “So, is this what we’re gonna do?” he asked. “Engage in the physical?” “Yes, that is exactly what we’ll do!” Eravia said. “Let’s see what we’ll see then…” Erik decided and moved towards the attractive females. *** A month passed. During that time, Erik visited Eravia on the pentagonal island, joined Ykaria's group on the square island, and spent time with them on the triangular island. He felt a deep satisfaction, more than ever in his life. He didn't bother about his quest for freedom anymore and the idea of returning to icy Stockholm seemed like a forgotten dream. ix2 was nowhere to be found, but Erik didn’t care about that either. "Let them do their experiments, and let me do mine!" He did meet with Tetr’ton occasionally, who shared his species’ knowledge with him. Everything appeared to go well. Then one day, as Erik was taking a small nap beneath a palm tree on the circular island, Tetr’ton visited him. “Erik,” Tetr’ton alerted with his voice, “come with me, quick!” “What?” Erik immediately woke. "Why?" “No time for that,” the mermaid – man replied and began swimming, "just follow me. There's something you have to see!" Erik sprinted on the sand following Tetr’ton who swam on deeper waters. It reminded him of the first time they met, only this time, he chased him out of curiosity and not out of suspicion. “What could Tetr’ton have to show me?” Erik wondered without leaving Tetr’ton from his sight. “Is he going to introduce me to someone of his kin, maybe?” Suddenly, Tetr’ton halted. Erik halted too. The horizon was clear and in the distance, the triangular islet could be seen. Tetr’ton approached Erik near the shore. He rolled his eyes downwards and kept silent. “What is it Tetr’ton? You’re giving me the creeps. Jävla!” “Deep in the sea!” “What’s deep in the sea!?” “I believe it is yet another island.” “Another island?” Erik’s eyes opened wide. “How?” “I was heading to the place where I usually meet you, and then in the bottom of the ocean, I noticed the outline of a geometrical shape.” “What shape?” “That, you’ll have to see for yourself.” “What do you mean? I cannot breathe underwater!” “Erik, that’s not a problem, just hop on my back.” “I've just told you, I can't breathe underwat…” Erik repeated. “Just do it!” “Fint(Okay)...” Erik lay on Tetr’ton’s back and held himself from the space between the mermaid’s shoulder and neck. The mermaid – man sank into the water taking Erik with him in the depths of the ocean. Strangely, neither Erik nor Tetr’ton became wet. A sphere of air was formed around Erik and helped him breathe. Mysteriously though, it didn’t hinder Tetr’ton's diving, giving the impression that they were flying. They went so deep underwater, that everything gradually became pitch black. “Can’t see a thing!” Erik stretched his eyes wide. Suddenly, Tetr'ton's body started to radiate a green glow, bright enough to illuminate the surrounding area. And then, it could be seen. In a distance of around a kilometer, in the bottom of the ocean, a white line formed a geometrical shape. “An ellipse?” Erik said astonished. “That’s unexpected!” As they moved closer and closer to the mysterious shape, Erik made sense of it all. A circle consists of 1 line-segment. A triangle has three 3 line-segments, a square 4 and a pentagon 5. All the above form closed areas. An ellipse also forms a closed area. It can also be considered that it consists of 2 identical segments, its 2 arches. With that reasoning, it made some sense. They landed on the ellipse and Erik removed his grip from Tetr’ton. The air bubble still engulfed Erik and Tetr’ton continued to shine with his green aura. “So, what is the main topic of this island?” Erik asked. “What desire can I satisfy here?” But he intuitively knew the answer. These islands were personalized for his desires, and only one of his desires remained to be fulfilled. Freedom! Initially, he felt a feeling of lightness. As time passed, Erik felt freer and freer until eventually, like an avalanche, he felt truly free, more than ever in his life. In Stockholm he did have his freedom as an individual, but that was different, it felt stronger. “This is amazing,” Erik whispered and then turned to Tetr’ton who seemed to have a similar experience. “Why did the aliens create an elliptic island?” Erik asked “I don’t understand the concept.” “I don’t know Erik,” the mermaid – man said and then theorized: “Probably this is another parameter of the experiment, they might be trying to check the resolve of human spirit. At what depths can a man dive into, in order to regain his freedom?” “Well, it wasn't me who found this island. I had given up my freedom and chose to satisfy my other needs.” “It doesn’t matter if you made it with help,” Tetr’ton said, “It is in the nature of your species to help each other.” “Well, you don’t belong to my species,” Erik smiled, “but thanks anyway.” “So,” Erik wondered, “is Eravia or Ykaria going to give me lectures about freedom? Or not?” “No, Erik,” Tetr’ton announced, “there’s no Eravia or Ykaria here, just me.” “What?!?” “Yes, I hid from you the truth,” Tetr’ton said, “I am also part of the experiment.” “Well, nothing surprises me anymore,” Erik said, “it’s only a pity you're not alive. However, you are part holographic and part human, so I can guess that your human part wanted to help me.” “I’m not human, nor am I holographic, I’m a real mermaid. Mermaids exist, you know.” “If you say so, I believe you…” The mermaid man removed his necklace with the elliptical shaped stone and gave it to Erik. Erik examined the stone. Blue in color and smooth in touch, it radiated with a cyan aura. "Why did you give me this?" “I’m not allowed to do this, but if you use this stone, it can help you exit the experiment.” “How?” “There is no time to explain,” Tetr’ton said, “you will have to find that yourself." “But…” “Your bubble will soon run out of air," Tetr'ton warned, "you have to go now.” Unwillingly, Erik began to resurface. After a few minutes, and feeling dizzy from the low oxygen levels, his head popped out from the sea and he took a deep breath. He swam to the circular island and began to walk outside the sea. His head was tilted downwards, walking carefully to avoid stepping on spiky sea urchins. Finally, when his feet stepped on dry sand, he looked up. ix2 stood up front. She held a frustrated radiant gaze. “Oh, long time no see,” Erik said, “was wondering when you might show up.” “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” the alien replied, her tone confirming her frustration. “But it did!” Erik chuckled with pretended innocence. “How did you find the elliptical island? You were meant to find it in the final stages of the experiment!” “Guess I found it earlier than you anticipated! Tetr'ton ignored your instructions and acted on his own volition!” "Who is Tetr'ton?" ix2 asked baffled. "Your mermaid colleague." “Our mermaid colleague?!?” ix2 asked confused even more. “What are you talking about? We have no mermaid colleagues, mermaids don't exist!” “Well, they dooo,” Erik giggled on the “do.” “And now, it's high time for me to exit this mockery.” “Wait!” ix2 urged him. “If you stay until the end, the results of this experiment can help better many lives. But if you leave now, all this will have been in vain!” “You want me to stay?” Erik asked. “Then give me the details of this experiment. What happened on the time period I don't remember? I want to know everything!" “You can’t have this,” ix2 disagreed. “You’ve been told already – it is part of the process for you not to remember. You've agreed to this.” “I know you're worried about me,” Erik said, “Tetr’ton told me the truth, he read your mind." “What?! That creature can read our thoughts? This is not possible!” “Mermaids can read thoughts and emotions, unlike your species that can only read the latter.” The alien said nothing, only continued to stare perplexed. Erik demanded: “Why are you worried about me?” There was a long silence. Erik had the impression that the alien had turned her attention elsewhere, possibly receiving consultation from her superiors. Finally, ix2 spoke: “Erik, I have to tell you the truth, I'm afraid.” “I'm not,” Erik briskly said. "Carry on." “You are inside a virtual reality simulation, nothing of what you experience here is real.” “Nonsense!” “You are not living in the year 2016, but in 2123. You agreed to undertake this experiment, and we implanted to you temporary memories, so as to play your part as our candidate.” “This is ludicrous, do you consider me to be that naïve?” Erik spat. “To what lengths are you willing to make up stories to confuse me?” ix2 signed. “You wanted to know the truth? Then listen!" Erik kept silent. The alien went on: "Just think about it Erik, think about the vision you had the other day with the “tribe” people. Was it not strange to find yourself in a “futuristic” place?” Erik halted. He indeed felt that the vision was a bit too bizarre, and at the same time, a bit too realistic to be just a product of his mind. “Are you saying that the vision was indeed a memory?” “Yes,” the alien replied. “So, what else happened in the 3 month time lapse?” “Erik,” the alien tried to explain. “I’m not really an alien. I’m human like you, appearing to be an extraterrestrial. Outside of this virtual reality simulation, we know each other well.” “We know each other well?” Erik laughed. “This is becoming more and more amusing! What are you then really? A man or a woman?” “I’m a woman, Erik.” ix2 continued, “my real name is Izabel Xenophon and we have worked in similar projects the last few months.” “Your name doesn’t ring a bell,” Erik's voice made an indifferent whistle. “That is because we’ve blocked your real memories and sent them in a secure area in your mind.” ix2 said. “That area is the time period you so persistently try to access.” “So, are you suggesting that the time period I don’t remember is where the real me is located?” “Yes.” “I want that part of my personality back then, please.” “We cannot do that, at this point, if you regain your true memories, you might end up with a split personality.” “I don't care,” Erik replied in a dismissive tone, “I want to leave this place.” “I’m sorry Erik, I cannot do that.” ix2 said and there appeared to be a genuine sadness in her voice. This feeling of sadness felt familiar to Erik somehow. The name Izabel Xenophon might have meant nothing to him, however, the way she worded her last sentence made him feel that that being actually displayed human emotions, cleverly hidden. “And what if I believe you?” Erik asked. “What then?” “Well, what we’ll have to do is to block this recent discovery you made, so that you continue the experiment until it’s over.” “How much time has there passed in the real world?” “Around 2 days.” “And how much time is there remaining?” “Another 2 days. If we stop now it will be in the middle of it.” So, all he had to do was agree to have his memories blocked, for the second time. But did he really want that? He remembered the good times he had in these exotic islands. Discussing, belonging and feeling intimacy. But he never felt free. Not until the truth was revealed to him by an unexpected ally. He held the instrument of his promised returned on his left palm. He would know what he had to do, according to Tetr’ton. He would know how to escape. However, if he escaped now, the experiment would stop before its completion. And if what ix2 said was true, the result of the experiment would have had a positive impact on humanity. “Well, let’s see this to the end,” Erik thought. Then he opened his palm and showed the elliptic stone to the supposed human acquaintance of his. “Here, you can have this,” he said. ix2’s eyes opened wide. “Oh no!” her voice raised in intensity. “You must not show this to m…” The scenery began to faze and blur in front of Erik’s eyes. Slowly, it all began to fade, become transparent and disappear. “Maybe I did the right thing,” Erik contemplated as the simulation collapsed, “or maybe I didn’t.” *** A feeling like surfacing from deep waters overwhelmed him. During the whole process, he didn’t lose consciousness. When he got his physical senses back, he slowly opened his eyes. He was sitting in a chair, tilted around 30 degrees backwards. He scanned the area around, cautiously. He was in a room with walls painted white, that gave a lab feeling to it. A metal door sealed the exit. “So, where is everyone?” he wondered. The door opened with a rustling sound. A short woman with curly black hair and a cute face entered, followed by a tall, grey haired man in his 40s’. They both wore lab clothes, and held a concerned look on their faces. “Frantz,” the woman said to the man, “he’s come around.” “Do you think he’s okay?” Frantz asked the woman. Erik felt alright, however, what really troubled him was that he could still not remember his true identity. “Who are you people?” he asked with a drowsy voice. “I am Izabel,” the woman replied, “and this is Frantz. We are colleagues.” So that was Izabel Xenophon, the woman that impersonated ix2. Erik could still not remember their faces, even now that it was over. “And what is our relationship?” Erik inquired. “I don’t believe we’ve ever met.” “That is,” Frantz entered, “because we’ve not yet unblocked your real memories.” “Why haven’t you done so, yet?” Erik demanded. “Erik,” Izabel said, “there’s a protocol we have to follow before we can restore your original memories.” “And what is that?” Erik asked irritated. “To torture me with more of your babbling? I want my memories back – now!” Izabel turned to Frantz, as if asking for consultation or approval. Frantz studied Erik with his gaze. After assessing empirically his condition, his eyes crossed with Izabel’s and nodded in approval. Izabel looked Erik in the eyes and said with a soft voice: “You have to understand Erik that who you are in reality is someone completely different than the person you're now. Your current memories about your life in Stockholm, are all implanted.” Erik’s eyes opened wide. “That can’t be!” he protested. “I know who I am! I remember my childhood, my teenage years and all my adolescence, in detail.” “Indeed,” Izabel replied and suddenly, her face became frozen and emotionless as well as her tone, “however, who you think you are is different from who you truly are.” “Then, who am I?” “You will know, correction, remember, soon.” Izabel reassured him as her tone returned to its previous melodic tune. “As I mentioned earlier, your real life memories are stored in the 3 months that you so persistently seek to uncover. We had to create this symbolic time period for your mind to be able to access it.” “Only the access is denied.” Erik laughed. “Erik,” Izabel said still on the same tone, “you might not remember this, but we’ve done this experiment before.” “Of course I don’t.” Erik raised his tone. “The previous simulations we made were successful, however…” “However what?” “The artificial personalities you incorporated in your psyche were very similar to your previous self, which made it easy for you to transition to your original identity, when the tests were completed.” “Seriously?” Erik thought. “And how is this simulation different from the previous ones?” “I’ll tell you,” Izabel said, “in this simulation, you were a far better person than the one you originally are.” “What?!?” Erik shouted and attempted to stand up. Shackles around his wrists and ankles prevented him from doing so. “Why have you tied me up?” Erik grunted and felt deep inside him an indescribable rage. “Untie me immediately!” He bellowed and violently attempted to break free. “Muscle memory,” Frantz observed, “his mind does not remember, but his body does.” “You want to know the truth?” Izabel asked with the same cold voice. “You are a murderer and you've agreed to take part in this new experimental rehabilitation programme. If this programme succeeds, it can lead to the efficient rehabilitation of many criminals like you!” “I don’t believe this!” Erik yelled and twisted and turned his wrists to break his straps, to no avail. “I’m Erik and I’ve lived in Stockholm all my life!” “You are Swedish, right?” Izabel asked. “Ja, jag kommer från Sverige.” Erik replied. “The language you think you speak as a native,” Izabel declared, “is also an implant. In fact, the level of Swedish you’re speaking does not even reach the basic level.” “Prove it.” “Just try to say: I’ve been to the North Pole, I saw some amazing polar bears but bear with me, I didn’t feel cold when the climate change hit me, I swear.” Izabel sung and crossed her arms. No matter how much Erik tried to formulate words in Swedish, he couldn’t do the translation. “See?” Izabel announced triumphantly and urged Erik to reason: “Just think about it, we are living in 2123. The setting of Stockholm you remember is a recreation of the early 21st century.” Erik took a moment to process this. Could they have been lying to him about the era he lived in? He examined the area around him. The room contained some futuristic technology he didn't notice before. It appeared to come out of a science fiction story and matched with what they said. “I want to see the news,” Erik demanded. Frantz fetched out of his lab coat pocket a mysterious sphere and held it in his palm. A holographic video streamed upwards, in a cone like form. A female broadcaster told the news. Her hair consistently changed to all perceivable colors. A screen behind her played a video that showed scenes from a scientific conference that took place in Denmark. People were gathered around an amphitheatre. They wore peculiar formal clothes and spoke in English. Robots served them drinks and carried out the practicals. It looked convincing. “Do you believe us now?” Izabel confronted Erik. “We are trying to help you.” Erik accepted the fact that Izabel and Frantz most probably told him the truth. “And why did you make me a far better person in this simulation?” Erik demanded to know. “I will explain how this experiment works.” Izabel spoke. “I’m all ears.” “Each simulation has the purpose to improve the subjects' behavior slightly. This is done by allowing the individual to have a fulfilling experience by satisfying implanted or not, desires. Desires that we assume will help the subject grow and mature as a human being.” Izabel went on: “Then, once the simulation is over, the subject integrates the new memories to the original personality. The simulation is perceived as a real experience, so the person discovers things true about itself, and thus becomes a better person.” "And why has someone to forget who he is?" "If you remember who you truly are," Frantz explained, "the simulation won't be effective. You have to forget that all this is artificial, so that you become emotionally involved and grow from the experience." “I see,” Erik nodded thoughtfully and then asked. “So, why are you so hesitant with me this time? What's keeping you from restoring my original identity?" Izabel carefully worded: “You were making progress, Erik, however the progress was very slow. It would have taken years and years of repeating the simulations before you could be set free!” She went on: “The previous personalities you adopted were better versions of yourself, yet, still, murderers. What we tried to do in this last simulation, was to make you adopt the persona of a normal citizen. “And that’s where the danger lies; members of the lab team argued that the new role you would play deviated too much from who you were. We are concerned that the reintegration is incompatible and thus will drive you to develop split personalities.” Izabel sounded stressed, catching her breath on her last words. “She seems to be saying the truth,” Erik realized as he picked up on her emotional state. “Can I go on living with the memory block?” he inquired. “I’m afraid not,” Frantz stated, “the block usually lasts for several weeks. It wears off eventually and you regain your memories.” “Talk about wanting to forget your past,” Erik laughed, “you can’t even do that!” “And what if I am a murderer?” Erik then argued. “I have to have my memories back. It is who I truly am.” Izabel signed. “Shall we continue with the process?” she asked Frantz. “I think there is no other way out,” Frantz said. “Let’s finish what we started.” Izabel removed from her pocket what seemed to be a remote tablet. “Alright Erik, I want you to close your eyes and try to relax.” Erik closed his eyes. “This might feel a bit… unsettling.” Izabel warned him. “I hope you’re not planning to send me back to the simulation.” Erik tried to joke about it. Deep inside he felt terrified though. “No, we’re not.” Izabel reassured. The soft touch of a finger pressing on a flat surface was heard. Gentle as a cat’s paw stepping on grass. Suddenly, a not so gentle electric current streamed through Erik’s body and reached his brain. The pain felt surreal and his physical senses became dull. Erik could see old memories blooming inside him like poisoned ivies wrapping around his mind. His real name was the same as before: Erik. His upbringing was fundamentally different, though. His father was a drunkard. His mother, a helpless creature being beaten every day. He learned from a young age that in life there are victims and there are victimizers. He adopted the latter approach. He grew up to be an antisocial bully that everyone feared, not by force of physical, but by force of emotional abuse. And then he got married twice! The faces of his wives! Eravia and Ykaria! Their real names being Elizabeth and Penelope, he killed them both. Elizabeth, his first wife, he murdered with a knife, a very carefully coordinated plan to dispose of her body, in pieces. His acting skills, perfect, nobody ever suspected him. The reason he took her life, plain jealousy, because she was far kinder than him. Why did she end up with him anyway? In life only hunters exist and their prey! His second wife, Penelope, he also felt jealous for, because she had achieved in life what he could not. She lived a life he only wished for, studying in the best universities of the world while he was borderline illiterate! He also killed his second wife, death by poison. He thought his plan was perfect, but became sloppy this time, overconfident in his ability to evade punishment. But punishment he got, when the authorities proved his guilt and took him in. He stayed in prison for several years, becoming an even more violent person, this time to defend himself from other criminals. So then, he was offered a chance to participate in a scientific experiment. He accepted, as that would transfer him at least for a while to a secure environment. But, there is no worse enemy than one’s self. The first simulations were a complete failure out of his denial to see the truth. Only after several attempts, did he start to feel that maybe there was a way out of his torture. He continued so. Several moderately successful simulations and from a non – repentant killer, he began to get into the shoes of his victims. He started to feel remorse for his actions. He could feel he was changing, slowly. However, the scientific team appeared restless; they wanted results sooner rather than later. So, they took a risk, they prepared for him the role of a normal person. And here he was now, in his mind a huge battle going on. Was he Erik the murderer, or Erik the citizen? Erik appeared to be in agony, shaking and his face making grimaces of pain. “Oh no!!” Izabel shouted, “he's not going to make it!” Erik's head tilted upwards and jerked violently. He stopped moving. Frantz approached him and checked him. "Still breathing," he said. "But is he gone?" “I am okay,” Erik said with a whisper and slowly opened his eyes. “No need to worry.” “Who are you?” Frantz probed Erik. “I’m Erik,” he smiled. “Do you still have the same feelings for your ex – wives?” Izabel asked concerned. “I do, yes… ” Erik confirmed. “We failed,” Frantz commented, “he should have stayed in longer.” “...however,” Erik added, “I'm not feeling I want to kill anybody anymore.” “Oh, is that true?” Izabel asked with eyes opened wide. “Are you sure about that?” “Yes,” Erik confirmed and then opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. “What is it?” Frantz asked. “I still feel intense rage and jealousy for both of my wives. If they were alive, I would want to harm them, but not kill them.” Izabel removed a device from her lab pocket. It was a remote control that had a palm sized tv like antenna. She turned it on and scanned him head to toes. “He seems to be telling the truth,” Izabel said. “So now, what shall we do? Shall we inform the others?” “Yes,” Frantz agreed, “time to announce the success of the experiment!” They both turned to leave the room. “Hey!” Erik complained. “Are you not going to untie me?” “Oh yes!” Izabel said. “You’re right!” She pressed a button on the computer screen near the door entrance. The shackles of Erik were automatically untied. “You can walk around the facility if you wish,” Izabel informed him, “however you are not allowed to leave. ” “Of course I won’t,” Erik rolled his eyes upwards, “you've told me a million times already!” The two scientists left the room. Erik got up from his chair and left the room. He went outside to the garden of the facility and sat on a bench. He observed the trees, the grass and the electric fence that blocked his way out. He was still a prisoner. “This time I might be a bit closer to becoming free,” he realized and then remembered the experience he had with Tetr’ton. In all the other sessions he went through, he never ever encountered such a mysterious creature before. How did that happen? “I have to find out!” he thought and got up. He knew where the lab team did their debriefings; in the room near the south east corner of the facility. He was never curious to learn what they were talking about, but this time, he couldn’t help it. He felt urged, compelled even, not to linger around but to go and hear what the scientists had to say. He approached the room from the outside and noticed that the window was open. He placed himself towards the wall. The lab members were talking, loud enough for someone to hear. “See?” Frantz asked. “I told you that it was possible to make progress faster, I was right in the end!” “That remains to be seen,” an emotionless and authoritative voice argued. “It’s too early to come to conclusions. We have to observe the subject’s behavior over time. It will take additional simulations and further analysis before we can set any criminal free. And on top of that, there’s always a chance of regression to past behaviors. We must take caution.” “Bah,” Frantz protested, “you’re all too afraid to take bold steps, and that’s what’s holding humanity back!” “We just take precautions,” another voice replied, one colored with anger. “Don’t feed us with your humanitarian crap, Frantz! We know that if it weren’t for the government pressing for results, you would have followed protocol! Plus, what about this mermaid… thing his consciousness conjured in? Apart from ix2’s model that we designed, the other characters are projections of the characters’ psyche. We have never ever seen something like that in any simulation and with any subject!” Erik’s body jolted. He never had the time to reflect on what happened during the last moments of the experiment. Tetr’ton. Erik always assumed him to be part of the experiment, however even the scientists didn’t know about his existence, not until the very last moment. “There has to be an explanation to this phenomenon,” Izabel intervened, “a bug perhaps on the code, that gives mermaid – like features to an otherwise human projection?” “We don’t know that at all,” the emotionless voice suggested, “we’ll find the cause of it soon, before the next simulation takes place.” “Yes, we’ll do that,” Frantz complied. “So, what will the next steps be?” “We’ll monitor the subject’s behavior and see if the changes made in his personality are permanent. Then, we will do more simulations. In time, it may be safe to release him to society under surveillance. To all the members of the lab team, keep up the good work. This meeting is over. You can return to your duties.” And thus the meeting ended and everyone returned to their posts. Erik meandered around the facility building, thinking this through. The lab team could only observe his behavior externally, they did not experience what he had experienced. Therefore they could only speculate how much he'd changed. But Erik knew the changes were permanent, he could feel it. “So," he thought changing topic, "even the intellectual authorities cannot explain my meeting with Tetr'ton. Interesting." He went on: “Was Tetr'ton really a bug in the code, then? Or was he something else, like a part of my consciousness? It's strange, because I was never a mermaid fan.” Then it clicked inside him. “What if he was another life form, helping me?” The scientists were concerned that the change in Erik’s personality would be too great. Erik stayed in the simulation only for half the intended duration. If he stayed any longer, then he might not have been able to integrate his new self to his original one and could have ended up with split personalities. What if that entity, Tetr'ton, knew this and freed him before it was too late? And who was that entity, really? Did intelligent life forms, more advanced than humans exist in the cosmos? He didn’t know. All he knew was that he wasn’t ready yet to be released. He was just a bit too violent. But he did become a better person. A couple of more experiments and he would be ready to get back to society. He couldn’t predict exactly when, but it would happen sometime in the future. And then, something caught his peripheral vision. He turned around and looked at the sky. No clouds in the distance. Just 2 round objects that levitated a few kilometers away. Erik tried to focus on the objects. One of them disappeared and reappeared, as if it was an eye blinking. Then they both vanished. “Thank you my friend,” Erik said. “I’ll see you around.” Grigorios Galiatsatos

0 notes