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lovely-angst · 4 years ago

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single dad!dabi

a/n: i KNOW dabi’s cannonly(?) can’t cry, but let’s just ignore that fact in this fic :^) also ty for waiting patiently for me to post! <3

genre: angst

pairing: dabi x f!reader

summary: dabi had started a family with you, but when he suddenly becomes a single father, now what?

word count: 2.4k

06.29.21

The sounds of an infant cry filled the small apartment as the night grew on. The sun had long gone and the moon filled its place in the sky as the city fell into a slumber—it seemed as if the only ones up were Dabi and the small child in his arms.

Her mouth opened wide as her powerful cries rang in Dabi’s ears as he tried cooing the young girl back to sleep. A bounce in his step as he paced around the small bedroom he shared with his three-month-old daughter, Aya.

Dabi tried shushing her gently, attempting to soothe her, but to no avail.

He felt as if he was going crazy. He had tried everything at this point—a warm bottle, a change of fresh diaper, heck, even some snuggles, but nothing seemed to work.

Dabi could feel his eyes sting with upcoming tears as his frustrations grew and grew. Setting Aya down in her crib, her wails grew louder before Dabi turned around and slumped against the crib, defeated.

Reaching over towards his nightstand, Dabi gently picked up the photo of you before bringing it closer towards him, his glossy eyes running across your familiar features before he brought his large hands towards his face.

And cried.

He cried and cried and cried.

“I can’t do this, (Name),” he sobbed into your photo, his wails mixing in with those of his daughter’s. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t help Aya, she needs you,” he stated, pulling back to stare at your photo once more.

“I don’t know how to do this without you. You were supposed to be here with us—we were supposed to do this together,” his cries had died down, allowing him to wipe the photo dry of his tears.

Leaning his head back on the crib, Dabi’s eyes roamed over the small bedroom. It was messy, just as messy as his life was currently without you. Picking up one of your shirts from the floor, Dabi let the fabric rest in his hands before bringing it up to his chest to hold.

It still faintly smelled like you.

His daughter’s cried came back to his ears and Dabi stood back up, tucking the shirt in his young daughter’s arms before watching her cries gently soothe away from your scent.

“Yeah,” Dabi started, bending down to pick his daughter up before bringing her towards the bed with him, “I miss her too.”

It felt like yesterday when you told Dabi you were pregnant. It came as a shock to him of course—he was just hitting his twenty-fifth birthday and he was about to become a dad?

He was never really the one to think about kids or even having kids himself—but that all changed once you came into the picture.

“I know you’re scared, I’m scared too,” you say, grabbing hold of his hands before giving him the prettiest shy smile, “but if I’m honest, I’m really excited to become a mom. I love you so much, Dabi. I can’t wait to love our baby.”

You were so excited and he couldn’t help but anticipate the day his baby would be born.

Dabi knew you would be a great mother. On the other hand, he was nervous—but if you were going to put in all this effort to love and raise this baby with someone like him, then Dabi knew he had to give it his all too.

He’ll make sure that his child lives a better life than he ever will.

He decided to cut his ties with the league, ending his time as a highly wanted villain. It wasn’t easy getting Shiggy to agree, but with a little bit of convincing and a little explanation about his tragic backstory, Shiggy finally agreed.

If he was going to be a dad, he wanted to do it right.

Everything was going great throughout the pregnancy. Dabi was there for you as much as he could, helping you, providing for you and his baby. Basking in those little moments of realizing that he was going to be a dad.

Reality began to hit when you had gone into labor. It would have been fine if Dabi were a normal citizen, but Dabi was a villain and because of that, he wasn’t able to be with you when you were giving birth in the hospital.

It crushed him more than you could have known—to have his unofficial wife alone during such a difficult, excruciatingly painful and life-changing journey. There were times Dabi wished he could be a normal citizen like you, and this was one of those times.

It wasn’t until you got discharged a few days later when Dabi was able to see you again. It was also the first time Dabi had gotten to see his baby.

You were finally back in the apartment, Dabi helping you up the stairs to the apartment as he eyes the little bundle in your arms. “You can hold her too, you know,” you say with a smile when you caught him staring for the millionth time.

“Her?” Dabi asked voice caught in his throat. “Welcome Aya to the world,” you say, placing her in his arms the moment the two of you sat on the couch together.

His breathing stopped the moment Aya was placed in his arms. She was tiny. Dabi didn’t know that humans came this small. He was scared of accidentally breaking her, and from the way you laughed, he could tell you knew.

Dabi watched you closely as you taught him how to carefully bathe her, change her, feed her, and even burp her. He remembered the times your laughter would fill the air whenever Aya spit up all over him, or even the times her little body was able to create such a smelly masterpiece for him.

He always thought he would hate being a father, yet here he was. Sleeping soundly with his baby girl.

Three months into having his baby girl were some of the best days of his life. Sure they were tough and going off practically no sleep was rough, but he wouldn’t trade this domestic life for anything.

It made him feel like a normal person.

But all good things come to an end.

As Dabi strolled along during one of his scouting missions, his phone rang and vibrated in his pockets before he reached in for it. He really only had the phone, so you could contact him if you were in some deep waters, which he hoped would never happen.

To his surprise, it wasn’t you who called, but Hawks.

“What? You better have a good reason for calling, or I’ll-”

“It’s about (Name),” Hawks cuts off, “you better come quick,” and with that, Hawks ended the call, leaving Dabi’s thoughts unanswered. A small ping resonating in the air as Hawks left him with a single address.

Though Hawks’ call was brief and left a lot for Dabi to figure out himself, he knew it bad news awaited him. He just hoped it wasn’t as terrible as his thoughts led him to.

“What was so urgent?” Dabi asked as soon as he stepped around the corner of an empty alleyway only to find Hawks’ red wings filling his sight. “Where’s (Name)?”

As soon as your name left Dabi’s lips, Dabi could see the way Hawks’ feathers shifted before the winged man himself, turned towards Dabi, finally giving him the view of what he most dreaded.

There you lay—eyes closed and chest unmoving. Dabi’s eyes widened before he ran towards your body, where thankfully, it rested on Hawks’ thick jacket and not on some dirty alleyway like this.

“(Name)? Hey, wake up, I’m here,” Dabi tried, gently shaking your shoulders and brushing your cheek with the back of his hand.

“Dabi,” Hawks started, voice strained, “she’s gone.”

Those words seemed so unreal that if Dabi blocked them out of his head, then it surely wouldn’t be true. Stared at your limp body in front of him, it was all just a bad dream.

“I...I was with her during her last moments. I found her while on patrol, it was a gunshot wound,” he informed, watching Dabi caress your cheek.

“I made sure she left peacefully, I talked about you to her.” Hawks tried, “and she smiled. She told me to tell you to take care of Aya for her.”

As Dabi turned around, his eyes quickly focused on Aya, who was sound asleep in Hawks’ arms. Taking a step forward, Hawks placed Aya in Dabi’s arms before Dabi began quietly sobbing while clutching his daughter.

Hawks had never seen Dabi look so broken and desperate before and it was quite painful to see. Villain or not, Hawks never wanted anybody to go through this.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Dabi.”

Though the two weren’t good buddies in any way, they both had you in common. As much as it hurt to see you go, Dabi asked Hawks to take you away and give you a proper burial as you deserve. And Hawks didn’t bat an eye at his request.

Giving you one last final kiss goodbye, Hawks lifted you in his arms, ready to take flight. “Hey,” Hawks starts, catching Dabi’s attention, “if you ever need anything for Aya, just let me know.”

Dabi couldn’t help the slight curl in the corner of his mouth at Hawks’ words. “I don’t want to owe favors.”

Hawks smiled back at the man in front of him, throwing his visor on, “You don’t have to worry, she’s in good hands,” and with that, his large red wings spread and he took flight into the air with you.

And it was the last time Dabi would ever get to see you.

It had nearly been a month since you left—Dabi doing his very best trying to raise Aya as a single father. It was hard. No, more than hard. Being a single father to a three-month-old with no mother was the most challenging thing Dabi has ever done.

And he was starting to doubt his abilities as her father. He was running low on money to provide for Aya and himself, and there would be days where she just wanted you instead, which would break his heart.

Dabi felt like a failure; to you and Aya.

As he cradled a drowsy Aya on his chest, Dabi glanced over at the fridge that held up a little note with an address written on it—the location you were resting at.

Hawks had sent that note to him, but Dabi had never mustered up the courage to come out and see you. He didn’t want you to see him like this, struggling to his core. Because if you were here, he knew he wouldn’t be struggling like this.

But for some reason, that note was calling out to him.

Walking into the bedroom, Dabi began searching the closet where Aya’s dresses were hung up. Holding her small body in one of his arms, he went through each little outfit with a slight smile on his face.

You loved shopping for Aya, and all of these cute outfits were the product of that.

Taking a dress off the rack, he held it up before glancing down at Aya, “Do you think your mama will like this on you?” His low voice vibrated through his chest and onto Aya, causing her to open her beautiful blue eyes up at him.

She glanced over at the outfit before making a face, tears filling her eyes and Dabi immediately out the dress back. “Your mama always did say I had bad fashion sense.” he chuckled before searching for a new outfit.

And did he find the perfect one.

Setting Aya down on the bed, he changed her into the outfit before smiling at her once he laid eyes on her fully dressed little chubby body. Boy, did you and him make a cute kid.

“Okay, let’s go. Mama’s waiting.”

Before making his way to you, Dabi bundled himself up well in his wind breaker, mask, sunglasses, and gloves. He took the less populated route, but he couldn’t avoid everybody. Thankfully, Aya was able to distract them from the fact that they were beside a wanted villain.

Dabi followed Hawks’ instructions on the note before finding himself in front of your grave as he entered the cemetery. His heart fell from the reality of the situation—being here in person just made it all the more real that you were gone.

Placing the flowers that he got you down in the little holder, he let out a heavy sigh, “I’m sorry it took so long to come see you, (Name).”

His eyes continuously read over your name engraved into your tombstone as he sat down with a heavy heart, “It’s so hard doing this without you, you know? Aya really needs you.”

Dabi didn’t want to seem like he was complaining to you, never. He had a lot on his chest, and simply, he missed talking to you.

He went on about his days and the new milestones Aya has been hitting, telling you how much you would’ve loved to see her smile. “She looks so much like you, it’s crazy. Even though she’s just three months old, I’m glad she does.”

It was weird to Dabi how much peace this was bringing him. Yes, he knew you were no longer with him, but talking to you like this, being with you like this, made it seem like you never left his side.

With a final sigh, Dabi leaned over and pressed a kiss on your tombstone, bring Aya closer so she could also mirror his actions, “I love you,” he whispered, brushing his fingers across your engraved name, “we’ll be back soon.”

It was quite an experience there, a healing one. Dabi knew his struggles and knew that he needed to reach out for help, and talking to you gave him the courage to do so. He didn’t want to seem weak, but building this strength to ask for help, made him stronger than anyone else.

So, Dabi walked until he reached a familiar place and when he stepped inside and the eyes of his old comrades focused on him, his shoulders softened.

“Thought you’d never come back,” Toga said with a toothy smile as she ran over to hug her old friend, “sorry to hear about (Name).”

“So, this is what’s kept you so busy,” Kurogiri states as he glanced down at the little girl in Dabi’s arms. A hand landed on Dabi’s shoulder and he turned and noticed those bright red wings of the pro hero, “It’s nice to have you back. (Name) would be happy to see you like this.”

Though they may be seen as criminals from the outside view, Dabi knew these would love and support his baby girl with their lives��and that’s all that mattered.

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #touya x reader #todoroki touya #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki #todoroki touya x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia scenarios #boku no hero academia x reader #mha #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader

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wreathedinscales · 4 years ago

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It’s finished! :D

()

When he sees Wei Ying, Lan Xichen chokes on his tea.

Lan Wangji sends him a look.

"Young Master Wei!" Lan Xichen cries as Nie Mingjue slaps his back, "What a—wonderful surprise!"

Wei Ying laughs and salutes, though he's clearly as confused as every non-blood Lan in the room. "Thank you, Sect Leader Lan. It's, ah. Good to be back."

"Yes," Lan Xichen says, "Yes, very good! Wangji! You must be tired after your journey!"

It's the closest Xichen has come to outright dragging someone. Lan Wangji feels guilty about leaving Wei Ying alone, but it's only supposed to be a brief greeting to the other members of the war council before Wei Ying rests. Jiang Wanyin is with him, and he also has—

"Your pearl," Xichen whispers, "Wangji, what happened?"

Remembering Wei Ying's reticence about Jiang Wanyin, Lan Wangji says, "He needed my help."

It feels unnatural to keep things from Xichen. His brother notices, of course. However, instead of looking troubled, he smiles softly at Lan Wangji and asks, "I'll approach Sect Leader Jiang tomorrow about the contract."

"Contract?"

"Wangji, Uncle will be displeased if you elope."

"Elope?" Lan Wangji says, perhaps too loudly.

Lan Xichen turns slightly. "You gave him your pearl. Don't tell me you didn't tell Young Master Wei your intentions?"

"I...there is not...I did not..."

Lan Xichen's eyebrows climb. "Wangji?"

Lan Wangji barely restrains his tail from lashing out and twitching like a restless tiger. "Brother, I am not marrying Wei Ying."

...his brother looks confused. "Did he refuse?"

"I did not propose," Lan Wangji replies tightly.

"Why else would you hand over something so precious?"

"He needed my help," Lan Wangji helplessly repeats.

"Wangji." Xichen looks sympathetic. "Surely you—"

The scent hits before the knocking: spice, lotus, resentful dust. Wei Ying needs to rest, settle his energy. Yet here he is, calling Lan Wangji's name.

Lan Xichen sighs through his nose and fixes his smile. "Young Master Wei."

Wei Ying opens the door. In the light, what color Lan Wangji had thought he'd seen has drowned. He looks exhausted. Lan Wangji has to restrain his tail again.

"Zewu-Jun," Wei Ying says, "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Not at all," Xichen replies, "I was just leaving." He fixes Lan Wangji with a pointed stare. "Good night, Wangji."

Lan Wangji purses his lips and bows. "Brother."

Wei Ying slides into the room. "Lan Zhan," he says as soon as the door shuts, "can I ask you something?"

"Mn."

Wei Ying sits on Lan Wangji's bed despite the perfectly good table nearby. Lan Wangji does not mind. "What makes a pearl? A dragon's pearl." He presses a hand to his gut. "It feels different from a core, but there's no weight to it."

Lan Wangji takes two steps forward before he realizes it. "Did something go wrong?"

"No, no! It's." Wei Ying huffs, smiling. "Ah, Lan Zhan. That's the other thing." He rubs the back of his neck. "Jiang Cheng says I should kow-tow for your gift."

"No need."

Wei Ying jumps to his feet. "Well I should do something! Lan Zhan, you know what you've done for me." His throat bobs. "You know."

Lan Wangji averts his eyes. "There is no debt. Wei Ying needed help."

"You—! Lan Zhan!" Wei Ying pokes his chest with Suibian. "You're impossible. At least let me thank you properly."

"No need," Lan Wangji repeats.

Wei Ying sighs dramatically, plopping back on the bed. After a moment, he mumbles, "Though, you did undo all the work I put into harnessing resentment. So maybe I shouldn't thank you after all."

Lan Wangji glares at him, only to find a teasing smirk. Wei Ying points at his face. "See? You do want thanks!"

"No," Lan Wangji says, "And do not joke about resentful energy."

Wei Ying's nose scrunches. He looks so much like a rabbit.

Cautiously, Lan Wangji sits beside him. He considers. Then asks, very quietly, "Did they truly throw you into the Burial Mounds?"

Wei Ying's hands clench around his sword.

Lan Wangji's lungs seize. "Wei Ying—"

"Lan Zhan." Wei Ying's smile has turned brittle. "Whatever happened, happened." He looks at him. "Let's not go back."

A crackling noise draws their attention. With a start, Lan Wangji sees his fingernails curing into silver talons. He can't cover them fast enough.

"Whoa," Wei Ying says, "Does that happen a lot? I mean, I haven't seen it, but maybe because we've become so cloooose?"

For lack of a better option, Lan Wangji sits on his hands. "Ridiculous."

Wei Ying snickers, nudging their shoulders. "You didn't answer my question, you know. About the pearl. And what about the rest of it? See, I've been thinking. You said you didn't cultivate beyond the top, but how else could you be a dragon?"

Lan Wangji stares ahead.

"And the way Zewu-Jun reacted to me," Wei Ying continues, "He looked right at my core—or, your pearl. Like he could see it." He nudges again. "Lan Zhan. Are you both dragons?"

Lan Wangji keeps staring. Nie Huaisang's touch is apparent in this room by the tasteful tapestries and splashes of color.

Wei Ying blows out a breath, settling back on his hands. "The Twin Jades truly are paragons of cultivation! Only they didn't cultivate to scales, apparently. Which means..."

Perhaps if he says nothing, it will not count as revealing anything to Wei Ying. Can Lan Wangji be faulted if Wei Ying is clever?

Then Wei Ying's hand is on his thigh and Lan Wangji's mind goes embarrassingly silent.

"Don't worry, Lan Zhan. I won't tell." Wei Ying squeezes. "I promise."

There's a tearing sound. Wei Ying whips his head about for the source. Ears flaming, Lan Wangji carefully retracts his hands from underneath him. The linens do not survive regardless.

Wei Ying's lips contort. Lan Wangji stares at his full talons. Wei Ying snorts, tries to cover it with a cough. Thankfully, it means his hand retreats to cover his mouth.

"Energy," Lan Wangji says. Wei Ying makes a stiff, high-pitched noise. "A dragon's pearl is made of spiritual energy. But not the same as a human's. Our cores are different."

Wei Ying's laughter dissipates into interest. "Really? I can't tell."

"My human form is carefully structured," Lan Wangji replies. His talons finally sheathe. "We study our elders' constructions and imitate."

Wei Ying's eyes flick over him. "So...is this an illusion?" He pokes Lan Wangji. "Doesn't feel like one."

"Yes. And no."

"Ah, very straightforward. A good Lan answer!"

Lan Wangji scowls at him, making him laugh. "Illusion is not the proper word. But you can never see every aspect regardless of form."

"You're dragon and human? The perception of your core changes with you?"

"Mn."

"That's incredible! So you just—" Wei Ying makes an innocuous gesture. "Switch? Like clothes?"

Lan Wangji opens his mouth. Closes it. "There are texts that describe the process. You are not permitted to see them."

"No fun, Lan Zhan!"

"I have already spoken too much."

Wei Ying laughs. "Lan Zhan, you never speak too much. I like listening to you!"

Lan Wangji's throat works.

"...then, isn't a pearl just—another core? If it's made of spiritual energy?"

Again, Lan Wangji opens and closes his mouth. No one has ever described a pearl this way, but it would make sense: the time it takes to form, the material. But it still does not account for Lan Wangji's case.

As always, Wei Ying fills his silence. "So I guess I have something closer to dragon than human now. You're amazing, Lan Zhan."

Lan Wangji does not know how to respond.

Wei Ying shifts in his periphery. "Is that the only reason you did it? Because I didn't...because I needed help?"

Lan Wangji does not know how to respond.

Wei Ying leans closer. He's warmer than other humans. Because of Lan Wangji. "Lan Zhan. Can I ask you another question?"

"Mn."

"What does it usually mean when a dragon gives someone their pearl?"

For some reason, this makes Lan Wangji think of his brother's grin.

"...it is rare to cultivate a pearl," he replies, "Lan An is the only precedent to—this." He keeps his eyes carefully away from Wei Ying. "He gave a woman his pearl and told her it would grant her deepest wish. She wished to marry him. He used his pearl to make human bones. This is why we have two forms."

Wei Ying is very still.

Lan Wangji feels his scales scratching under his skin. It's as if the dragon, once seen, wishes to be seen all the time. Vain and reckless.

"One more question," Wei Ying murmurs. "Why did you give me your pearl?"

Lan Wangji swallows. "Seeing you...without your core. I could not bear it." He forces his head up. Wei Ying's eyes are wide. "You deserve to fly, Wei Ying."

Wei Ying kisses him. His hands are dry, cupping Lan Wangji's face, but his face and hair are soft. He is far too thin, hip bones jabbing Lan Wangji's fingers. He is still warm. He is still beautiful. Lan Wangji wants him closer.

Wei Ying makes a noise, whispers his name, but then they're back to kissing. Wei Ying climbs into his lap. Closer, closer. Lan Wangji's mind glides pleasantly somewhere above him. His eyes are stinging, he realizes, but he is happy. Very, very happy.

"Ah, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying gasps, tipping his head as Lan Wangji burrows against his throat, "What if someone comes in?"

Lan Wangji says "Let them" because his mind is still elsewhere.

Wei Ying chokes a laugh. "I don't mind being caught kissing, er-gege,"—what did he just call him— "but the tail?"

"Mn?"

Very reluctantly, Lan Wangji pulls off and looks over Wei Ying's shoulder.

His tail is indeed wrapped twice around them, clutching Wei Ying close. It's a pleasing sight. This way, Lan Wangji knows Wei Ying is safe. No blade can pierce his scales, certainly no shadow. What could be wrong with that?

Wei Ying's thumb presses gently on his cheekbone. "Your eyes. I didn't tell you. They're so pretty, Lan Zhan." Lan Zhan rumbles. "Ah, and that noise! So cute, like a cat. But you're trying to keep a secret, aren't you?"

But kissing is important. Lan Wangji likes to think he prioritizes well.

Wei Ying's little sigh into the next kiss is so lovely Lan Wangji's hands warp into paws. The dimensions in his flesh are melding. It is not painful. With Wei Ying like this, Lan Wangji thinks he will never feel pain again.

Thundersong finally tethers his mind. It speaks in his brother's voice. And there is his brother, clearing his throat, sending Wei Ying flailing—though not very much, as Lan Wangji's tail still holds him.

"Zewu-Jun!" Wei Ying cries, "Hello! We were just...ah."

"I take it your conversation went well?" Xichen asks.

"Yes," Lan Wangji replies. "Does Brother need something?"

He does not like Xichen's expression. "I only wanted to offer my congratulations. Sect Leader Jiang expressed his relief knowing you two will be officially wed. He is convinced you engage in indecent behavior."

"Indecent?" Wei Ying says.

"Wed?" Lan Wangji says.

"Wed?" Wei Ying shouts.

Xichen's smile is bland and insufferably smug. "There is still a war, of course, and rebuilding after that. But I trust you both can be patient."

Lan Wangji slowly unwinds his tail.

"Hard to think of a future after this war," Wei Ying says. He turns back to Lan Wangji. "But Lan Zhan, are you sure? You won't be able to back out of a marriage, you know."

The Twin Jades blink as one.

"Does Wei Ying have any objections?" Lan Wangji asks.

"No!" Wei Ying replies instantly, "No, no, Lan Zhan. Not when I know—no. I'm just making sure you don't."

Another blink.

Lan Wangji realizes Wei Ying is actually waiting for a response. "None."

Wei Ying grins, relieved. "Really?"

"Mn."

Wei Ying hugs him tight. "That's good, Lan Zhan. Because—I really like you, you know? Not because of what you did for me. Because you're—you're Lan Zhan."

The next "Mn" comes out slightly hoarse. Lan Wangji quickly gathers himself enough to reply, "Like Wei Ying."

"Really?"

Xichen looks mildly lost.

"Mn."

Wei Ying sighs and snuggles closer. Then jumps away completely with a, "But we can be patient! Right, Lan Zhan? You're the most patient person in the world, apart from my Shijie. And Zewu-Jun. We can do this!"

Lan Wangji places one hand over the other in his lap. "Mn."

They stare at each other.

"Right," Xichen says, "Young Master Wei, Sect Leader Jiang wishes to speak with you about this."

"Hah? Ah! Jiang Cheng is probably going to break my legs!" Wei Ying seems very excited about this. "Shijie is probably making a bunch of soup! She'll want you to have some, Lan Zhan! But later. I'll see you later, Lan Zhan! Zewu-Jun!"

He kisses Lan Wangji's cheek and nearly runs from the room.

At length, Xichen says, "Young Master Wei seems happy." His smile becomes more genuine. "As do you."

Lan Wangji is certain he is capable of more happiness. Most of him has been whisked off with Wei Ying's lips.

Xichen nods. "Congratulations, Wangji."

The halls tremble with "WEI WUXIAN!"

Lan Wangji smiles. "Thank you, Brother."

#wangxian #dragonji #writing

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avehi-the-adamant · 5 years ago

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... What the Living Cannot

Uldum was an unforgiving place to begin with; now, tenfold moreso as the forces of N'Zoth took root. The skies darkened, as structures and obelisks from the dreaded Black Empire materialized into the mortal realm. Azeroth's forces rose to meet their Twilight invaders, desperate to resist letting their world fall to madness. Instead, unbeknownst to the vast majority of them, they instead let the souls of their valiant warriors fall to something much, much worse…

Avehi knew this better than most. Her research into the disruption of the afterlife had revealed a great many things. She shared this knowledge with the Ebon Blade, finding herself working with them once again. She felt she was only lying to herself, every time she told herself this time would be different. This time would be better. She had grown distrustful of the Blade after many missteps in their history - chief among them the attack on Light's Hope Chapel during the campaign against the Burning Legion. But then… now she'd grown equally - if not more - distrustful of the Light. Xe'ra's attempt to force the Light into the Demon Hunter on Argus was still fresh in her mind. Her dealings with the Lightforged didn't help that opinion, either. And hearing from Sinafay of what her kin on Draenor had been up to for the last thirty years… she wouldn't admit it out loud, but the uncorrupted Orcs didn't deserve such oppression. No one was innocent, it seemed. No power was above misuse. No belief infallible. Avehi chose to stick with the evil she knew best, now. And that meant repledging her hammer to the Knights of the Ebon Blade.

She trudged through the sands, until she finally reached the river delta. The Lost City sat at the mouth of the river, a shadow of what it once was. Obelisks that anchored N'Zoth's forces in place protruded up from the city walls. Horrific beasts roamed the streets and surrounding areas. Screams could be heard, both faint and close by. But Avehi wasn't here to save them. She moved around the city walls until she reached the coast. The South Sea, too, looked to be in the shadow of N'Zoth's darkness. But a shimmer of light therein drew the Death Knight's eye. She stepped out atop the water, its surface freezing beneath her neatly polished hooves, and approached the glimmer just barely off the coast. She sighed as she drew near, and reached a hand out to still the water around it with more ice. A body. A Draenei body. She reached down, lifting the plated corpse up from the water to observe it more closely.

"Vindicator Zaalesh." she spoke his name aloud, recognizing his face.

Word travelled fast among the Vindicator community when one of their own fell in battle. Zaalesh's death at the hands of a Faceless monstrosity had even managed to reach Avehi's ears. A brief investigation, asking other Azerothian forces about his heroic sacrifice, led her to find him easily enough. And before anyone else, it seemed. Fortunate… for him.

She dragged the corpse back to the shore, and laid him out flat on his back. It saddened her to a degree, seeing him like this. They were friends once upon a time, at Avehi's first station in Shattrath. He had become a Vindicator all those years ago to help protect his wife and two children. All of which had perished by now. She frowned; poor Zaalesh probably thought he was off to join them in the Light. But she knew that wouldn't happen. Her lichfire eyes flared, as she reached a hand over Zaalesh's body. He deserved a second chance…

"You fought valiantly to defend this world." she uttered, as necrotic energies began to stir… and take root in Zaalesh's body. "But your work is far from over. Rise, and--"

"DEFILER!"

A blast of Light engulfed Vindicator Zaalesh’s corpse - and nearly Avehi along with it! She leapt back from the radiance, turning quickly to face her accuser. Her eyes narrowed, lips parting to a snarl.

“--Argonas! Mind yourself, you nearly struck me!” she snapped.

“Such was my intent!” the Vindicator shot back a scowl of his own as he approached - aglow with searing Light. “I cannot believe what I am witnessing! I thought you, of all the accursed Scourge Knights, knew better than to impart your ill fate on another! Least of all another Vindicator! One of your kin!”

Argonas marched up intently, weapon drawn and in his plated hands. The Light arced off his amor loosely, crackling with unbound vengeance. Word of Vindicator Zaalesh’s death seemed to have reached him, as well. He’d come to reclaim the body, and give the honored warrior a proper burial - only to find Avehi had other plans for him. The Death Knight’s tail flickered in agitation. Briefly, she glanced at Zaalesh's body, still wrapped in the blazing Light Argonas channeled. He was ruining everything! Eyes narrowing back on him, she brought a hand up defensively - the other reaching back to take hold of the hilt of her hammer.

“There are things happening you don’t understand, Argonas!” she warned him. “You may think you’re doing Zaalesh a favor, but you’re not! He won’t find rest in the afterlife!”

“Not if you have anything to say in it, it seems!” he scoffed! “The others will hear of this regardless, but I will allow you to walk away from this now - your only chance to forestall the Light’s judgment. You served it well, once. Perhaps you can reconcile your atrocities of your own accord. Take your leave now… before my hand is forced.”

“You damn fool! Blinded by the Light! Are you so ignorant to other forces and powers the worlds have shown us? This is beyond the Light! Vindicator Zaalesh is doomed to eternal torment unless--”

She didn’t get a chance to finish explaining what was happening before Argonas charged at her in a zealous rush! She dodged back from his attempted blow, finally drawing Rokaa from its resting place at her back. She growled, unholy energy coalescing into a rime on her hands and weapons. She’d known Argonas long enough to know he’d never see beyond the Light. Her needless breath was wasted trying to explain anything to this zealot! The Death Knight reached a hand out to ensnare the Vindicator in a formation of jagged icy chains - but so radiantly did his Light glow that the frost was melted away from him.

He swung laterally with his crystalline blade, intent to cut Avehi down here and now! Avehi wasn’t quick enough to evade this time. She let out a yelp as the blace carved through her breastplate, and scraped along her skin. Thankfully, it wasn’t severe physically - but the Light suffused to the blade left a burn she felt deeply. She snarled at Argonas, baring her fangs. She had hoped to take it easy on him. Perhaps knock him around a bit, before he ran off scared with his tail between his legs. But that seemed unlikely now. And altogether too lenient.

“... Kill... him…”

The lichfire in her eyes flared, as she charged for Argonas. She swung her hammer into his shoulder for a counter-attack, bashing his brightly-glowing pauldron down hard, and forcing him to a kneel. Quickly she swung her hammer around to knock him back, but the Vindicator was quick enough to bring his holy blade up before him to block the blow. He pushed back, shoving Avehi away from him for long enough to regain his hoofing. But no longer than that. Avehi screamed as she rushed for him yet again, raising her hammer high. He moved to block-- but she dropped the weapon behind herself, over her shoulder. A feint! Leaving himself exposed, Avehi hurled her fist for his face, an unholy blast coursing through him as she connected with him. He flew back in a daze, landing laterally on his back.

“--Hhngh!” he grunted, rolling quickly in an attempt to recover.

But Avehi wasn’t done. She charged up over him, and brought her hoof down for a painful stomp to his back. Frost formed down her leg, permeating over his midsection as she reached a hand back behind her. Silently she called for her weapon, and it answered, runes aglow as it levitated quickly back to her waiting hand. Argonas had precious little time to realize what was happening. He pressed his hands to the ground, and quickly pushed upward, knocking Avehi off-balance. She was forced to stagger back a couple steps, giving him a chance to get up the rest of the way. Her hammer still reached her hands, as she brought it up to the ready as he turned quickly around.

“... Kill him!”

“Enough of this! I do not wish to hurt you!” he grunted, lip cracked and face already bruising from the punch. “Lay down your hammer, and--”

It was Avehi’s turn to interrupt him, as she threw her hammer outward before her. A coil of necrotic power burst forth and slammed Argonas at center mass, causing him to stagger back in pain. His Light was glowing dimmer and dimmer…

“You had your chance to exchange words, fool!” she snapped. “We finish this!”

Argonas kept his weapon ready, just in time to clash against Avehi’s hammer. The two traded blows, each strike glancing off the other’s weapon in a clash of energies. Darkness fizzled out against the Light, as the Light diminished from the unholy darkness.

Avehi was relentless, swinging faster than Argonas. Harder than Argonas. The necrotic powers that fueled her made her a tireless weapon of war. Her blows eventually overcame Argonas’ ability to block or parry, more and more hammer strikes smashing into his plated body. His eyes widened in panic, hands desperately moving as quickly as they could to deflect the barrage of blows… until finally, his blade was knocked from his hand. He brought his hands up, staggering back - all but defeated now.

“KILL HIM!”

Dark tendrils sprung forth, ripping Argonas towards Avehi. Her eyes were engulfed in icy blue flames, flickering wildly against her impassive visage. She held her hand out, taking a firm, icy grip of Argonas’ throat as he was tugged by unseen darkness towards her. She squeezed, fingernails - and fingertips - digging into the Vindicator’s blue skin. He gagged, hands gripping Avehi’s arm desperately attempting to pull it free from his neck. But her unholy strength was nigh-uncontestable now. Slowly, his luminous eyes began to dim, rolling backwards into his skull. His legs kicked, hooves dangling inches from the ground. His tail swayed and squirmed to no avail as he writhed in the Death Knight’s unrelenting grasp.

Avehi exhaled slowly, grip remaining constant on the Vindicator’s throat. She could’ve done it - she could’ve ended him right now, right here! No one around, no one to see. She could feel the Hunger coursing through her, urging her to tense her hand just a little more, and crush Argonas’ throat. A quick jerking motion would sever his spine. All that life force, released! For her! Since the War ended, she hadn’t had such a satisfying meal as one like Argonas would make! She licked her lips at the prospect.

Were she any more inclined…

“I trust you’re listening now?” she growled. “You won’t understand, either way. Your Light-addled brain is too ignorant to comprehend that there are forces in this world you simply don’t understand, Argonas!”

He wheezed his response - inaudibly, as barely any air could squeak through his windpipe. His legs kicked a little slower, tail falling limp behind him, as the glow in his eyes finally diminished. He had passed out from the asphyxiation - pulse as faint as could be. But to Avehi, each weak pump rang out like a gong. She hurled his unconscious corpse back, leaving it in a slump in the soft, mossy earth of the delta. Her fingertips dripped with his blue blood, drawn as her nails broke the skin. She took a moment to lick them clean - a minor prize for her victory, at least.

“Damned fool. If only he knew…”

She shook her head… before turning back to Zaalesh’s corpse. With Argonas unconscious and defeated, his incantation of Light preserving the other Vindicator’s body was lifted. She sheathed Rokaa, and reached her hands out once more to pick up where she’d left off before being so rudely interrupted.

“... Your work is far from over. Rise… and protect our people once again!”

-------

((Gif from the Hearthstone: Knights of the Frozen Throne cinematic ))

#Character Story #Avehi the Adamant #Argonas the Ironclad #Draenei #Death Knight #Vindicator #Light #Unholy #Knights of the Ebon Blade #Warcraft

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mtvswatches · 5 years ago

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Wynonna Earp 3x03 Colder Weather

Click here for previous recaps!

Stray thoughts

1) They’re doing a Dolls retrospective in the previously-on and oh God, it’s going to be one of those episodes, am I going to cry my heart out?

2) Wynonna is sad, drunk, and angry – a dangerous combination. Yep.

3) God, they even changed the music for this episode… They’re really going for emotional devastation, aren’t they?

4) So, the vampire lady that had Doc all tied up in the season opener is back. He called her Countessa, but then she begged him to say her name, and I wonder if this has some other meaning? Like, maybe she needs him to say her name for some spell or something? I don’t know. Anyway, apart from being a vampire, she moonlights as a seer. And she tells Doc that she’d seen a warrior would die – Dolls – and that he should give up trying to get with Wynonna because she loved Dolls, too, and he’d be forever competing with Dolls’ ghost. Ouch.

5) Really, dude?

6) Waverly and Nicole are having a very important conversation that everyone should have with their loved ones – what happens with my remains when I die? I’ve had this conversation several times with different people and they’re all very much aware of what I want to be done with my body, but I guess I’ll be dead and they can do whatever they want and I’ll never find out. Anyway, Nicole’s wish is to have a sky funeral, which sounds whimsical and cute but it’s actually pretty gross.

7) Uh-oh. Waverly has just found out that her father – well, not her father-father, you know what I mean – had only made arrangements for her mother’s and Wynonna’s burials, not hers… and that’s so unnecessarily cruel? Did they adopt her or were they charged with her? I really need to find out what’s the whole story about Waverly and the Earps!

8) Wynonna is in denial. She continues binge-drinking and shooting Peacemaker, but she’s not finding any peace. It’s Doc who can finally comfort her and convince her to pay their respects to Dolls. They actually comfort each other…

9) Who dis?

10) Waverly is kind of freaking out, saying she’s hungry and how that reminds her that Dolls will never eat again and then she starts laughing (her little breakdown reminded me a bit of Anya’s in The Body…) and Doc then smashes a glass against the wall (kind of like what Xander did in The Body…) They’re preparing a wake for Dolls at Shorty’s, which I guess we’ll end up being more like a sad party with everyone getting drunk and shots being fired because nothing can go right in Purgatory, not even a wake.

11) So, I took an instant liking to Star Hand guy for some reason, and thankfully, he seems to be Dolls’ friend. Doc is demanding evidence, as he should. Question is, how did he find out Dolls was dead? Is he a Black Badge agent, too? Did he come here to say his goodbyes or is he going to be a mainstay? And with this I’m reminded of…

12) Hmm. I have some questions…

NICOLE: My parents were travelling again and they told me I could go to this music festival with my aunt and uncle. Here. WAVERLY: In the Ghost River Triangle? NICOLE: There was an attack. A man in leather. So much screaming and blood. WAVERLY: The demon Dolls killed at the cliff? Bondage Bob? NICOLE: For years, my parents just told me that everybody died in a forest fire and that I had... I had somehow escaped, but... you know, it just didn't explain the nightmares. WAVERLY: Yeah, I've... I've heard them. NICOLE: Last spring, when... Widow Mercedes said his name... Bulshar... it was like this shotgun went off in my head. And Dolls helped me. He got me files, he... he told me that... Black Badge had been covering up these massacres for years. The Cult of Bulshar.

I’m not sure I’m on board with this backstory they gave Nicole literally out of nowhere? And the same demon that committed this massacre is the guy Dolls killed on the hill? The one Waverly names “Bondage Bob”? I just… I don’t totally buy it. I know it could be completely possible for her to have suppressed these memories because of trauma, but… it all feels a bit thrown together at the last minute? Why couldn’t she just be a human, a kickass human but a human nonetheless? Why does she also need a supernatural and traumatizing backstory? I don’t know, I’m still a bit iffy about the whole thing.

13) Will this turn into a supernatural version of “P.S. I Love You”?

14) Obviously, Dolls knew he was going to die, hence the ominous letter. Wynonna takes it out on Jeremy because he knew and he was trying to help Dolls but he didn’t say anything to anyone else, trying to respect Dolls’ wishes. Wynonna feels betrayed, but I don’t really get why? First of all, all of them know they can die at any time, that’s part of the gig, right? So yeah, Dolls being aware of his own mortality shouldn’t be that surprising considering his line of work. Second of all, they all witnessed that this dragon-power was taking a toll on him, didn’t they? Am I crazy? So yeah, Wynonna might have pretended it wasn’t an issue, but she knew, they all knew… I guess it’s easy when you’re mourning someone’s death to have someone to blame, but Jeremy hardly deserves it.

15) So, Quinn, Xavier’s friend, is all chummy with Doc and I’m here for it. Wynonna asks Doc if he knew Dolls was dying, and Quinn is like “duh! Of course, he was!”, which was exactly my reaction. Wynonna is not an idiot, so she had to be in complete denial not to see that he was dying. Anyway, apparently, he was also Black Badge.

16) Oh, great. The fucking revenants stole all the serum Doc had concocted for Dolls and are streamlining it. This should end well.

17) So, Jeremy placed a coded message for Dolls’ friends to come to his funeral. See? How can you be angry at Jeremy?

18) Wynonna wonders why Dolls didn’t attempt to do anything to get better, and the answer is blatantly obvious for both Quinn and Doc – because of her. I’m guessing she’ll take this information to further flagellate herself over Dolls’ death.

19) The vampire lady, Katalin, stole Waverly’s purse, for some reason, maybe she’s a klepto or something, but she didn’t use any of her vampire powers to do it? Like, she just grabbed and took off, awkwardly running in her heels? Kind of disappointing, but also super hilarious.

20) Ay…

21) Waverly enlists Doc to help her get Dolls’ letter back, and they sneak out all secretive, but… it’s a wake with literally 5 freaking guests… I think the three people left will eventually notice they’re gone?

22) “Why torture yourself? I don’t.” HA! Yeah, right!

23) Quinn suggests that Black Badge is not really gone – well, duh – and that they might come to retrieve what’s left of Dolls…

24) Yep. A bunch of jacked-up revenants have just crashed the party. Coolio.

That’s alright, Wynonna’s got it.

25) I do appreciate a good early 00s callback…

26) WTF

27) OMG, Waverly trying to lose it and turn the table but realizing it’s too heavy and then just throwing the cards on the floor and giving a little shout? *chef’s kiss*

28) Oh, shit, Katalin now knows what Waverly is?! What is she???

29) Aw, Nicole just set Wynonna straight, told her that everyone is grieving Dolls just as much as she is and that she should go apologize to Jeremy. I do really love their quiet yet strong bond.

30) Quinn is fucking torturing Jeremy with a goddamn stapler and why does everyone keep treating Jeremy like crap? Quinn wants to get Jeremy’s drugs to become a dragon and storm BB headquarters. Wynonna gets through to him by admitting that she is also haunted by the ghosts of the people she lost, but their best revenge is to go on living. Be brave. Live. For me.

31) Ouch, I didn’t know that something as small as Wynonna giving Quinn Dolls’ badge would hurt like a bitch, but it did.

32) Damn, damn, damn.

That whole scene simply destroyed me. Wynonna finally decided to cremate Dolls’ body to prevent BB from coming after it to continue experimenting on him. And then they bury him, each of them placing a personal item that symbolizes their relationship to Dolls. It fucking devastated me.

33) Waverly asks Wynonna what her plans are for when she passes, casually mentioning that she doesn’t have a spot on the Earp’s burial site. Wynonna doesn’t make a big deal of it, and instead, tells Waverly that they will live for about another 80 years and then, they’ll be buried together at the homestead. That’s all the reassurance Waverly needs. She might not be an Earp, but she’s Wynonna’s sister, and that’s all that matters.

34) Damn, Dolls.

35) Does Katalin spend the whole day playing with her Tarot cards? #quarantinemood

So… she admits that she only stole Waverly’s purse to get Doc’s attention. They have a short conversation about the days of yore and then…

Damn Doc, he can’t just keep it in his pants, can he?

36) That was an emotional rollercoaster of an episode. Dolls wasn’t one of the characters I loved the most, but I understand how important he was to the narrative and to each of the characters, so I’m glad to see he got a proper send-off. I really hate it when shows gloss over the aftermath of a main character’s death and skip forward all the grieving and uncomfortableness of mourning. That being said, this being a supernatural show and all, I’m skeptical that this was the last we’ll see of Dolls. Anything can happen, right?

37) Hope you enjoyed my recap, and, as usual, if you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi. Thanks!

#Wynonna Earp #Xavier Dolls #Doc Holliday #Waverly Earp #Nicole Haught #Wynonna Earp 3x03 #WE 3x03 #WE recap #recap #mine

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thebibliomancer · 5 years ago

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Dark Crystal Age of Resistance ep 6 liveblog

"By Gelfling Hand...”

Huh. I fell off the watching wagon in September. Thats a long time. I’ve probably forgotten all the proper nouns.

Just a stream of thoughts.

So last time in Age of Resistance people finally dreamfast and the age of resisting finally starts. I can’t wait for the Gelfling Rey to show up and stop the one-note Kylan.

Rian has been captured, transferred from one Skeksis to another, and escapes after deciding that he’s not going to escape.

The All-Maudra is dead, long live All-Mauldra Seladon.

Wonder what will happen now, me too.

Deet, Hup, and Brea are under arrest. And now the General wants to drink them.

“These Gelfling have just the vigor we’re looking for. Throw them in. And their little podling too.”

C’mon, Var. Geez. C’mon. Geez. He’s tall for his age.

The only good thing about Skeksis deciding to drink you is that the crystal is all the way back at the castle and they’re not going to want to hurt you or else lessen the vigor.

I’m looking at that jail cell wheel and the gaps are totally big enough for Brea to get out of if she just tries.

Oh hey, Lore senses Brea in need and is leaving his chamber by the magic of bending over to fit through the doorway.

And coincidentally, Rian, Gurjin, Naia, and probably Kylan are all here and saw Brea et al get captured so now they’re going to have an exciting chase scene to try to save them.

-Seladon looking at throne like ‘oh shit oh fuck what have i done-

Pfft she sits on the throne just when Lore decides he wants to leave his horribly hidden chamber and bursts through it like the Kool-Ade Man

OH YEAH

Seladon didn’t even get to enjoy the throne in a conflicted way for more than five seconds. That’s amazing.

Ritual Master: “VAR GEEZ C’MON WHY DID YOU KILL THAT GELFLING GEEZ VAR GEEZ”

General: “The Emperor is forgiving”

Ritual Master: -sass- “Of course! If there’s one quality our Emperor is known for, it’s mercy.”

I never thought that the Ritual Master would be the voice of reason among the Skeksis but hot damn, I’m loving his tone.

Rian standing in the middle of the road like some kind of badass.

But the Rian ruse is a distraction.

Rian: “I heard you were looking for me”

General: ‘this fucking guy’

Rian: ‘Why don’t you come out and say that to my face’

Oh the General is just going to run Rian over with the cart. You can’t accuse him of not being pragmatic.

Ritual Master: ‘I DON’T LIKE ANY OF THIS!’

The rest of the team can’t get the back of the wheel cage open but thankfully Lore out of nowhere.

Lore Out of Nowhere is going to be the name of my band that just turns exposition dumps into songs. Once I learn how to sing, play an instrument, songwrite, or organize groups.

The Skeksis don’t know what Lore is but they’re both appalled and disgusted.

Huh. There are other Gelfling in the wheel cage instead of just protagonists. The paladins that the Skeksis were gathering for the ‘war.’ One can only imagine what they’re making of this.

Lore: -rips the wheel cage door off-

General: -squeaking a little in dismay- “My carriage!”

Oh the paladins are escaping too. I don’t know that they know whats even going on.

Ritual Master: -pokes head at cart to shake his fist and tell the kids to get off his lawn-

Lore: -stomps towards menacingly-

General: “We should escape without delay!”

Ritual Master: -sass- “At long last, you’ve had a good idea!”

And they swerve around Rian instead of running him over because he’s still just standing in the middle of the road like an idiot. Mighty courteous of the Skeksis or the pillbugs to not vehicular gelflingslaughter him.

Brea gives Rian a hug so Deet gives him a longer, lingering hug.

Pls no love triangle. Pls.

Paladins still not know shit start hubbubbing about how Rian is a traitor and a murderer.

Brea: ‘Nuh uh!’

Rian: “Everything the Skeksis ever told us was a lie. But its hard to recognize the light when you’ve spent your whole life in the dark.”

So clearly you should all get- yup Rian is like lets do a huge dreamfast circle.

And hey, good idea! He says afterwards they should spread throughout Thra dreamfasting with all gelfling to share the truth.

Paladin: “I will dreamfast with you!”

Another Paladin: “I will dreamfast with you!”

A third Paladin: “I’m Spartacus and so’s my wife!”

Oh, cool. Funeral for the Dead-Maudra. There’s a cool sounding tradition for the death of the All-Maudra. “The windsifters will deliver six pieces of her crown to six Maudras that they might come together to reassemble it and place it upon the brow of the new All-Maudra.”

That’s pretty neat. A ritual to restate the unity of the Gelfling clans and publicly endorse the new All-Maudra as legitimate.

I have a feeling that its not going to go to Seladon’s liking though.

Woo gelfling song.

Oh the windsifters are like. Batbirds.

I had been thinking that they were like a type of gelfling job, like couriers or something.

More gelfling beastmastery is nice too though.

Seladon: “Gelfling need an All-Maudra who won’t be swayed from the path set for us by the Lords of the Crystal. A beacon of light in these dark times. I shall be that All-Maudra.”

The, uh, librarian guy says that they should get around to the burial rites and return the Dead-Maudra to Thra but Seladon is going Creon from Antigone and saying that her mom isn’t going to get burial rites because she was a traitor. She is going to be cremated instead.

This is sure to endear Seladon to the Gelfling people who thought the All-Maudra was neat despite all evidence.

Librarian guy: “FOR SHAME!”

Seladon: “For Thra.”

Oh shit the Chamberlain limps into the Stone-in-Wood village after surviving that carriage crash last time and yells at everyone to bring him water and good and just generally do stuff for him. But the Gelfling all just kind of awkwardly shut their doors and ignore him.

And also throw stuff at him.

-Gelfling closes door-

Chamberlain: “I see you! I SEE YOU!”

Chamberlain: “How could you? I protect you! YOU OWE ME!”

Aw shit again, news of the Skeksis drinking people has spread here already and the Gelflings have no patience for Skeksis anymore.

And since Chamberlain keeps hanging around screaming instead of leaving, they start throwing rocks and fruit and possibly poo until he runs away.

Hey remember how you let Rian get away, Chamberlain? You goofed. You done goofed.

Scroll-Keeper: “The General and the Ritual Master have returned. ...Without the promised volunteers.”

Ornamentalist: -laughing- “The Emperor won’t liiiiike that!”

Scroll-Keeper: -chuckling- “No.”

-both start cackling-

I love how shitty the Skeksis are to each other.

Some of the promised volunteers that escaped somehow made it back to the castle BEFORE the General and Ritual Master and have been spreading the truth.

Oh, hm. So you can dreamfast with someone. But you can’t then dreamfast the memories you saw in a dreamfast. So the escaped tribute basically has to go ‘yeah but just trust me, I saw what I saw in the psychic vision with the guy who is supposedly has brain sick’

But a lot of things are added up.

The death of Mira. The weird sudden calling for volunteers. The death of the All-Maudra.

A guard: “Yes! Spread the word and gather arms. We take this castle this very night!”

I cherish your optimism, guy.

It’d be a huge blow against the Skeksis but it feels doomed to fail. Plus one of the guards wasn’t as enthusiastic about the idea as the others and is probably going to snitch.

Oh dang I was ready to say that none of the new landscapes really match up to the bubblegloop swamp from the movie but the sweeping view of the Crystal Desert was pretty beautiful, if not as lively.

Kylan, I think: “They say the sands never stop shifting. Crossing the desert on foot will be as easy as walking on water.”

That’s that good shit.

Naia: “Must you complain about everything?”

Gurjin: “Its not my fault that everything is terrible.”

I appreciate you, Gurjin.

Uh oh. It seems like everything has finally hit Brea and she’s having a melancholy moment.

Brea: “I keep thinking that if I turn my head fast enough, I’ll see my mother’s face. Or if I listen hard enough, I’ll hear her voice. .. But I won’t.”

Brea: “I should be there to bury her!” Ooooof. Bad news there, Brea.

Deet suggests that they do their own ceremony there and Brea says that would help.

Deet: “Thats what friends do. They help.”

Brea: -sad hug, sobs- “You’re a true friend!”

Aww.

(Support Conversation rank A. After the time skip, they will be married)

Archer Ur Ru carefully rolling up stuff in a leaf for eats.

Aughra: “LONG NECK THERE YOU ARE”

Archer: -spills his entire lunch, sighs-

So Aughra’s problem is that she understands the situation now and all the pieces on the board but not how everything is going to end. There are many possible outcomes and she’s got to try for the best one.

I’ll say that two gelflings left finally healing the crystal cannot have been the Golden Ending. Maybe try harder, Aughra.

Archer: -seeing where she’s going with this- “And where does my path lead?”

Aughra: “Into the sands to face the Hunter”

Archer: … -sighs- “I cannot defeat my dark half”

Aughra: “You will find a way. But not without sacrifice.”

Holy shit Aughra are you telling him to kill himself? That’s kinda dark.

I mean, Skeksis and Ur Ru are quantum linked or whatev. Archer could just. Injure himself to the point that the Hunter can’t leap and gambol about the treetops anymore. Or ask Aughra to.

Aughra: “Get a move on. You Mystics are not known for your swift speed.”

Geez, Aughra. You dump a task like this on a guy and then call him a slowpoke.

Archer: “Will we meet again?”

Aughra: -hesitates for like a minute- “Some things even Aughra cannot see.”

Archer: -sighs harder-

And then she’s off to Stone-in-the-Wood to prevent a terrible mistake apparently. Hope it wasn’t throwing produce at Chamberlain because ship sailed.

Rian: “Life and death are a circle… not a line. There is no end, no beginning. Today, our beloved All-Maudra has returned to Thra. Though we cannot be there to guide her essence home… we will sing her memory across the wind. I will bind your words into a dream-stitch. All those who find this seed will know her as you did. Speak for the dead. Share your best memory that we may all know her goodness.”

I don’t have snark. This is just a beautiful ritual.

Now Rian is having feelings about his dad.

Like I get he’s feeling like his father actually loved him because he died for him but. C’mon. I feel like we’re sweeping the bad parenting under the rug.

“I love you. Get out of bed.” Wow. The All-Maudra was something.

‘When I looked at her eyes as the light faded out of them I realized that ‘I love you’ actually meant ‘I love you’’

Hup is a good singer.

Rian, why are you and Deet staring at each other longingly across a funeral fire?

Seladon: “I loved you with all I had” -sets her mom’s body on fire- “I’m sorry it was not enough.”

Mm. This is some contrast. In rites.

Oh the dream-stitch is just like flying off into the sky. That’s neat.

OH THE MUTINY IS NOT GOING WELL AT ALL

Gourmand: “I hope you taste better than you fight”

GOD DAMN

Okay the Stonewood Maudra Fara has shown up to Ha’ra.

oh geeez

Maudra Fara revered the All-Maudra so hearing she was killed going against the Skeksis makes her go ‘cool imma avenge her’

Also, this: Maudra Fara: “Several of your paladins are travelling the land telling a different story.”

Seladon is handling this as a reasonable individual.

Fara: “You speak madness”

Seladon: “I SPEAK… as the All-Maudra.”

Chamberlain comes home and finds the castle in shambles. And Skeksis freely peeing and farting on everything.

Seems like they just go full slob when they don’t have to put on a good face for the Gelflings.

Chamberlain is pretty disgusted at how gross things have gotten since he’s been gone but he perks up when he thinks he’ll be able to curry favor with the Emperor.

But nope. The big wild party is still going on and the Skeksis are binging on essence and foods. So the Emperor is feeling pretty good.

Gourmand: “Don’t worry, we kept the podlings.”

Chamberlain has to be a buzzkill.

Chamberlain: “I bring terrible news! Cease all merrymaking!”

Emperor: “I see you standing there but no Rian. What do you have to say before I punish you for your continued FAILURE?”

Shouldn’t’ve interrupted his hedonism, Sil.

Chamberlain: -had fruits thrown at him-

Chamberlain: “I faced grave danger!”

Chamberlain tries to argue that hey the open and rising revolt by gelfling clans is a Bad Thing Actually but the Emperor is feeling too buzzed.

-everybody laughs in Chamberlain’s face-

Emperor: “The General set us free! Never again will the Skeksis have to bear the burden of pretending to care for these useless Gelfling.

But who will make your food or- oh right, they’re going to enslave the podlings.

General: ‘HEY I HAVE AN IDEA LETS DRINK ALL THE STONEWOOD’

Everyone: ‘WOO THE PARTY NEVER STOPS’

And then they make fun of how much the Chamberlain stinks because he had fruit thrown at him.

They’ve been peeing on the furnishing and they tell Chamberlain to go take a bath.

I’d feel bad for him but y’know.

OH SHIT TAVRA, THE COOL SISTER

OH SHIT SHE HASN’T HEARD ABOUT HER MOM

Tavra: “Then she died doing what she had to do. What she always did. Protecting Gelfling”

Ehhhhh, speak well of the dead I guess.

Ok so i guess the rest of the Maudra have shown up. Except Maudra of the Grot who just sent the piece of crown back. Its just too bright up there.

So the Grot, the Vapra, the Spriton, the Sifa, the Dousan all support Seladon’s inauguration but the Stonewood and Drenchen withhold.

This has apparently never happened.

Fara: “The All-Maudra has not always been a Vapra”

Fara: “A war is coming and Seladon is not the one to lead us”

Yup thought something adjacent to this would happen.

Seladon: “It was my mother’s crown. It belongs to me!”

Fara: “I would have followed her into a nest of spitters, but not you!”

gasp

Fara: “I challenge Seladon for the Living Crown”

Oh snap

“We cannot challenge the Skeksis!”

Fara: “They are few, we are many.”

The dramatic irony here is palpable.

Seladon: “Maudra Fara has invoked a challenge. It is her right to choose the nature”

Fara: “Trial by air”

-gasps-

A Maudra: “Tests and trials are the Skeksis ways, not ours!”

Apparently Seleadon is a contender being smart and careful but Fara is pretty confident.

Fara: “I will take no pleasure in besting you…. Childling.”

Wow Fara gonna condescend on top of it all.

And back to the desert.

The Dousan! The desert gelfling! Apparently they barely leave the desert and are forbidden from being castle guards for some reason!

He seems fun.

Dousan Guy: “To the great All. May the dead become one with Thra again. May we feel their tears in the rain. And their warmth in the suns. Though they are gone, they remain with us still.”

Brea: “That was beautiful.”

Dousan Guy: “But a trifle compared to your emotion.”

Oh they got the dream-stitch thing.

Ah. Reky’yr. Sandmaster.

Rek’yr is a smooth guy. He’s giving Brea a bone protection charm and offering to carry the group across the desert.

He’s the most helpful Gelfling they’ve met so far.

Oh. Until they mention they’re going to a place considered a cursed ruin and then he gets cold feet.

But Brea shames him into it by calling him a coward.

Brea: “You don’t trust Rek’yr?”

Rian: “Well for starters. He’s a Dousan.” Wow. Ok. Racist. “They’re obsessed with death!”

Brea: “They’re not obsessed.”

Rian: “HE GAVE YOU BONES”

I really hope Rian is proven wrong in his kneejerk suspicion.

And then Naia, Gurjin, and Kylan peace out to join the spreading the news group of the plot. They recognize that they’re secondary cast and there’s no room for them in this subplot.

BOLD GURJIN! THANK YOU RIAN YOU’VE DONE SOMETHING GOOD AND GIVEN HIM HIS ADJECTIVE!

Hunter: -spots the party on the flying thing- “So. The hunt continues.”

Okay so trial by air is like a flying race. And everyone telling Fara not to be afraid of Seladon because she’s just a child makes me think that its not going to be so easy.

And that Fara is going to be for a rude awakening.

Oh god. Seladon is late to the challenge because she’s been dressing Extra Extra. Like a Skeksis.

I really can’t overemphasize how Aesthetic Seladon has suddenly become.

And then she’s like ‘hey fara take the crown i don’t even want it its nasty’

Fara: ‘u wot m8’

Seladon: ‘Its cool i made a cooler, gother crown. Its much cooler.’

Fara is mighty pissed at this but Seladon just grabs her and throws her across the room and breaks the Living Crown with her.

Seladon: “Gelfling turning on Gelfling. We stand on the brink of anarchy. Bow before me, Maudra Fara. And together we will prove our loyalty to the Skeksis and snuff this fire before it burns us all.”

Fara: “As you burned your own mother.”

Damn Fara is good at burning Seladon.

And Seladon can only go ‘yeah well gtfo my city’

You know I was wondering how the trial by air would be portrayed. Flying gelfling is well within the special effects that they’ve already shown but a race would be different. But Seladon decided ‘screw that actually’

Ah well.

And then Fara and the Drenchan Maudra peace out.

And the other Maudras are like ‘geez Seladon geez’

Seladon: “And what will you three choose. Order or chaos?”

A Maudra: “This is not the gelfling way!”

Seladon: “It. Is. Now.”

Oh you three are going to bow? You cowards.

This is the Age of Resistance, not the Age of Follow Seladon She Has Some Good Ideas.

Well I thought that the clans were in revolt but it seems mostly just the Drenchen and the Stonewood. And standing alone against the Skeksis and the other clans is not going to go well for them.

In general, the feeling ‘oh we should definitely trust our autocratic overlords they know whats best’ has been panning out really bad.

#dark crystal #dark crystal age of resistance #liveblog #episode 6

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kitsuneiisms · 5 years ago

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starlight in love with the fall and girl with a mouthful of knives

starlight in love with the fall: to achieve their goals, what is your muse willing to give up? and how far are they willing to go to do it?girl with a mouthful of knives: if your muse could take back anything they’ve ever said or done, what would it be and why?(Due to minor timeskip spoilers, I will be keeping these answers under the cut)

[Starlight and Ash]

(Timeskip Spoilers, BE path)

“…I wanna say that you don’t have to do this. I wanna say that we can just put the weapons down, you know, that we can talk this out. That we can go back to how things used to be.”

Embers crackled, waves of heat assaulting her ears, her fur, but Selkie stood her ground. Every flame that burst, every fence that popped and hissed, another wave of heat and ash, the smell of sulfur ingrained in her nose. In the distance, screams and cries - unimportant now, in this moment, in the heat of battle that froze her shattered heart to its core.

Tired eyes, unblinking, unmoving from their target, the bird flying amidst the storm, spear in hand their branch of security, their anchor. How the blue jay flew, even amidst the turmoil, amidst certain death it still flew, fighting against hope to survive. But here she was the storm, and to allow that bird their freedom meant to quell her own flames.

How tired she was now. How she wanted to lay down her axe and rest, but not yet, not when their goal was so close, after all she’d been through, all she’d done. Some called her monster, some called her the beast of Enbarr. Others called her the Emperor’s lapdog - lapfox, more like it, the thought left as quickly as it arrived, her target, her friend bringing themself back to the forefront of her mind.

“…Do you think you can sing for me? One last song. One last request, from a friend. We never finished our lessons, you know - I can’t think of a better place for a curtain call.”

It was easy to see that the turmoil within herself wracked them as well. Turmoil, and conviction - this was the final battlefield, after all. Only one could walk away alive. A soft chuckle escaped her throat, and a tear - the first in a while, truthfully - graced her exhausted eyes with its presence. One clawed hand wiped it away before returning to her axe, grip tightening and fervor renewing.

“Of course not. How silly to ask, right? I figured it was worth a shot, though. A calm before the storm, you know? One last game to play. One last dance.”

Their hands gripped that spear tight, she noticed - it seems she’d exhausted her time to talk, and any chance of settling this peacefully.

“Enough is enough, I guess. Let’s go, Shigure.”

- ~ -

[Knives and Regret]

Today was the day. Awake bright and early, greeting the sun with a smile - Selkie had work to do. Chores first, of course - before the sun even woke from its slumber, before the blanket of the horizon was cast off to greet the day, the kitsune was already hard at work.

The cooks were astounded at the kitchen - sparkling clean before they’d even begun to start with breakfast. Scarcely had they arrived was Selkie finished, another task crossed from her ever-growing list.

The stables were next - they were the closest thing from here. The sun was finally peaking out from behind the skyline, an eye trained on the day’s happenings as the world began to wake. The horses and pegasi, of course, were already awake - and by the time morning had well and begun, each equine was taken care of - stalls cleaned, food refreshed, and taken on a short walk.

“I hate you! I hate you more than anything!”

A chair neglected to be pushed in nearly caused Selkie to crash - thankfully she was an expert at recovering her balance, and her mind jumped back to the present. Some students were so inconsiderate after their tea-time; she was going to have to talk to someone about that. She could have gotten hurt!

Tomas was grateful for the extra help in the library. Rearranging books, fixing a broken shelf, organizing returns from the past week, all finished and a kitsune sent off with a smile.

“You should be sorry! I never want to see you again! And you can - you can tell daddy I said that! I’m never coming back!”

The market - one of the local merchants needed help setting up his stall. An accident with a spooked horse broke the poor man’s arm just a week prior, and Selkie had volunteered to help him set up shop every day. Technically, it was her fault, letting the horse free - it was only supposed to be a prank! - but she still felt bad, so here she was. There was a silver lining, of course, one she took full advantage of when she left.

Half off anything he was selling was a very good deal, and considering she was only buying flowers and a few minor trinkets, he graciously elected to stretch it to her full purchase, a benefit she was full glad to have. It couldn’t have worked out better if she’d planned it herself!

Now, the morning was almost gone, and with most of the students and faculty either at lunch or at the chapel, she had time to herself - and she was going to need it.

“Selkie! Come back! Selkie! Selkie!”

Half an hour. Half an hour was how long it took - she couldn’t afford to take any more time, lest someone’s attention be called to her. Hopefully, no one visiting the graveyard would find it unusual - likely, their own grief would be too pressing to notice a small, makeshift stone, placed amidst the rose bush.

Just behind a tree, tucked away in a little corner - a name is carved very neatly in a foreign language, one any native to Fodlan likely wouldn’t recognize. The kitsune sat as long as she could, until people started to return to the monastery - by the time anyone made it anywhere near the cemetery, it was as desolate and empty as ever.

“They… they invaded your deeprealm, you know. We don’t know when, after all the time that’s passed.

“…And?”

“I know you didn’t like her, but your caretaker… I’m sorry, Selkie.”

“…Can we give her a proper burial, daddy? Like the hamlet does?”

“Of course we can.”

Anyone who wasn’t looking would have missed the makeshift grave, if not for the flowers. A wreath, primarily made of morning glories, purple hyacinths, the occasional orange poppy and marigold.

And a bouquet of lilies.

#aqura #Tʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ғᴜɴ ɢᴀᴍᴇ﹗(memes)#Is ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀ ʙɪʀᴅ﹖(inbox)#Tɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ sʜᴀʀᴘᴇɴ ᴍʏ ᴄʟᴀᴡs﹗(drabble)#3h spoilers #(overdue memes)

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plumeriafairy14 · 6 years ago

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Oni!Hanzo/Undead!McCree

Just something fun I thought about while on the way to work today. I really love the new Undead Skin so I thought, hey, might as well make a romance story about it!

- Set in the early 1900s in a small town in the middle of nowhere.

- The town was ruled by a corrupt mayor who pockets the taxes and shit like that.

- The sheriff was a righteous man named Jesse McCree.

- Jesse McCree, while patrolling one night, meets an odd creature. He introduces himself as Hanzo, a demon from the far east who has traveled in search of redemption for murdering his whole clan after they made him murder his own brother.

- The two develop a friendship over drinks and moon watching. Hanzo tells McCree of his travels and McCree tells him about his dreams of seeing this backwater town flourish.

- The fall in love.

- They bond over comfort. Hanzo opens up about his sin and why he was cursed while McCree opens up about how he used to be an outlaw in his youth and how it still haunts him even after he decided to turn over a new leaf.

- One night, Hanzo tells him that he must leave to travel north for a personal quest. They part ways in the night with a tender kiss holding the promise of Hanzo returning to McCree once his business in the north was done.

- The mayor of the town does sleazy business with some outlaws and bandits. But McCree finds out about it and the mayor frames him for a crime he did not commit and sentences him to be hanged.

- McCree pleads his innocence but it falls into deaf ears. The people he knew he could trust, the very law that he considers his creed, all turned their backs at him. He was filled with anger and bitter disappointment.

- His last words before he was hung were: “Y’all ‘gon regret this.”

- The platform underneath his feet swings open and the rope snaps, breaking his neck and suffocating him.

- Hanzo returns a few days later and finds McCree’s rotting corpse strewn up on a tree. There was a sign nailed on the trunk which said; “Outlaw.”

- The shock render Hanzo motionless as he stared up at his executed lover. McCree’s body was left out to rot because the town did not even given him a proper burial. Instead, he was left out to hang like a morbid decoration; a warning. His left hand was even cut off and nailed on the tree to display the Deadlock tattoo McCree took care to hide.

- Hanzo stood there motionless for a whole day until some of the townspeople noticed. An angry mob formed to kill the demon guarding the sheriff’s corpse, believing that McCree’s death has cursed the town.

- Surrounded, Hanzo moves and he slowly turns to them, his eyes flaring in anger. Hanzo eliminates the whole town in his furious rage, wiping it off the map.

- After he had calmed down, he took the moment to mourn McCree. He cuts his body down from the tree, cleans the corpse and makes a salve to preserve McCree’s body as best as he could.

- Now alone in his grief, he cries for the first time in centuries. He swore that he will bring him back no matter what the cost.

- Wrapping the body, Hanzo carries the load and dutifully travels back to the north of the country where the days were short and the nights were long and the snows were bitter in the winter to speak with The Witch that lived there.

- The Witch agrees to revive McCree but in return, Hanzo must render a full century of servitude to her. He is free to do what he wished but once the Witch summons him, he must obey or she will take back the life she infused in McCree.

- Hanzo swallows his pride which had been patted down after centuries of solitude.. He had suffered long enough, what is another century? Besides, having McCree by his side will make it bearable.

- The Witch revives McCree as a creature that is the living dead. But he isn’t himself. He was monstrous, craving for flesh. He lunges at Hanzo and bites him but stumbles back with an anguish scream after Hanzo’s demonic blood burns him like acid. Turns out he can’t eat Hanzo, lol. (oh thank god)

- The Witch tells him to speak with the Undertaker, a man named Gabriel Reyes, to ask for a freshly buried body that no one will miss. Gabriel gives him the body and Hanzo feeds it to McCree who devours it. After days of recuperating, McCree returns to himself. He remembers his past and what happened to him except for some lapses in his memory as a side effect of the Witch’s spell.

- THE UNDEAD/DEMON HUSBANDS ARE REUNITED AND THEY’RE BOTH THE WITCH’S HENCHMEN (Since McCree volunteered for a century too)

- Hanzo loves McCree even if he smells a little...weird. They love to kiss and cuddle. It’s a good contrast since Hanzo’s body temperature is fucking hot and McCree’s is freezing so they balance each other out.

- McCree: “If my heart was still beatin’, you know it’d beat for ‘ya, darlin’.” Hanzo: “Do not sway me with flowery words, Jesse.” (is secretly tsundere)

- Thankfully, Angela’s rez magic is so good that McCree doesn’t rot and fall apart.

- They live as happy as vigilantes with dark pasts could be. Hanzo is still seeking redemption and McCree has some major issues with injustice so they kill bad people and McCree gets free food. The Witch supplies him with glamor potions to help pass him up as human and hide the funky smell (lol). Hanzo doesn’t need it since he can glam himself to look human with his demon powers.

That’s pretty much it. What do you thin? I have zero time and motivation to write a whole fic about it but please feel free to play around a bit with it, just please give credit!

#Overwatch.#overwatch halloween #Mchanzo #Hanzo Shimada #Jesse McCree #Oni Hanzo #Undead McCree #Witch Mercy #angela mercy ziegler #fairy write

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inshadowofthegods · 6 years ago

Text

A Deal, Part 2

“Okay now, there’s no way in hell we can afford this,” Edan stated flatly, looking between the four very excited nocturnes.

“Actually, there is!” Zuehal said jovially, patting Edan on the shoulder. “Mister Marshall there seems to have a skill for digging up useful gems. In fact, Edan, I think you all might want to try to focus on that. I don’t think anyone’s tried mining out where you live. You might be sitting on a goldmine. Literally, even.”

“I don’t fancy digging too deep out there,” Edan replied brusquely. “Taboo.”

“You don’t live on a burial mound, though, do you?” Zuehal scoffed. “Not that I’m going to force you, of course. But gods, what a waste of opportunity. At least consider it, you could bring such… prosperity to all of us!” “I’ll keep digging,” Marshall stated. “I can sniff that stuff out, I swear.” “You should listen to Edan - ” Clade began, but then stopped himself and shook his head before looking over his own scroll. “Or… I’m sure there’s a safe way to do it, right? You said other dragons mine, right?” “That’s right,” Zuehal nodded. “Ugh,” Edan shook his head and growled. “Look, we’ll look into this more… later. We’ll talk about it. That’s all I’m promising.” “And that’s all I ask!” Zuehal replied, clapping his hands together before turning back to the nocturnes. “So, let’s go over this one more time. Don’t read the scrolls until you are safely home, and I would advise you to not all do so at once. Transformations can be quite… difficult, though to my understanding most aren’t too painful. I can assure you mine wasn’t. Don’t be alarmed if you have trouble adjusting at first! You should feel normal about… a week or so after your shift.” As Zuehal instructed the quartet, Edan checked over the rest of the group. Rorin was carrying a delicate necklace between his teeth, Solveig had a rather fancy-looking box of chocolates clutched to their chest like their life depended on it, and Ila had several small packets of what he assumed to be seeds. When he caught her eye, she smiled and headed over to him. “Hello, Edan!” she greeted cheerily, looking from him to Angie, who was seated by his side. “And hello to you! My name is Ila!” “This is Angie,” Edan stated, nodding toward the pale nocturne. “She’s… going to be part of our clan, for the time being.” “Angie!” Ila exclaimed, beaming down at the smaller dragon. “What a cute name! It’s very nice to meet you!” “Oh, th-thank you,” Angie replied, blinking in some vague surprise at Ila’s enthusiasm. “It’s nice to meet you, as well.” Zuehal seemed to finish up briefing the nocturnes, and started to head in their direction. “How about you come with me and I introduce you to the others?” Ila offered, holding out a hand. “Alright,” Angie replied, carefully taking Ila’s hand and allowing herself to be led off toward Sol and Rorin. “So, Edan, does it look like everything’s been covered?” Zuehal asked, stepping forward and holding out Edan’s list. “Uh. Looks like it,” Edan replied, swallowing thickly as he looked over the series of check marks Zuehal had made on the page. “Gods damn, man. I still don’t really get why you’re doing this.” “It’s an investment,” Zuehal replied simply. “And besides, I take care of my… friends, you know.” “You’re still taking all of this,” Edan stated simply, shoving his bag of coins in the wildclaw’s hands. “Edan, that’s not ne - ” “Hey, I don’t have anything else to spend it on! It’s just a liability taking up space in my house, you take it!” “Alright, alright,” Zuehal stammered. Then he laughed. “I suppose that makes sense. I can certainly use it, bring more wares your way in the future.” “Sounds like a plan,” Edan replied with a firm nod. “Any ballpark on when that’ll be? So we can be prepared, and all.” “I’d say… late Spring. End of Tidelord’s, start of Gladekeeper’s,” Zuehal mused. “Does that sound sensible?” “Yeah, gives us time to rebuild our… stocks, I guess.” “I look forward to seeing it all,” Zuehal grinned. “And to see how much bigger your clan gets by then.” “Hopefully not that much bigger,” Edan snorted. “We already need to build another house.” “We’ll see, I suppose!” Zuehal replied. “Do you need any help getting your bags sorted?” “Nah, we can manage. Thank you, Zue,” Edan took a moment to bow his head, showing more proper respect for the merchant. He’d almost forgotten, entirely due to how hard is was to wrap his head around it all. He turned to call out to his clan. “Alright, everyone secure what you’re getting! Pick up a bag and strap it on! We’re about to head out!” The sun was beginning to set as they soared over the trees, each dragon laden with goods from their trip. Edan was having a particular struggle; Angie’s wings were too burned to be used for long, and he’d been carrying her much of the way. Solveig drifted toward him, Ila trailing behind. “I’m going to go see Praz,” they stated. “And introduce her to Ila. We may both stay over for the night, since it’s getting late. Is that alright?” “Yep,” Edan nodded. “Be safe.” “We will,” Solveig replied before veering off. Ila offered an enthusiastic wave with both hands before following suit. Angie giggled to herself quietly, then hunkered down against his shoulder blades as a chill wind hit the group. “Ugh!” Hazel remarked from somewhere behind him. “See, this is why I wanted to be a tundra,” Marshall huffed. “It’s so godsdamned cold out here!” “It’s winter!” Edan shouted back, rolling his eyes. “Summer hits and we’re gonna have to shave you down!” Much of the group was laughing at this point. “…Fine!” Marshall replied, some vague amusement in his tone amidst his annoyance. “I bet I can do it myself, though!” “It’s better for smelling rocks, though!” Angie offered, voice nervously raised to be audible. “What?” Marshall shouted back. “Tundras! Better at smelling!” Angie shouted. “You’ll be better at sniffing out rocks!” “Oh. Cool!” The rest of the flight went smoothly, the group in high spirits in spite of the growing windstorm. They threw jokes and playful banter back and forth until the wind drowned everything else out. They landed before it became too much to stay airborne. Thankfully, they only had to walk another 20 or so minutes to reach home as the trees around them whipped wildly, at some points bent sideways with the strongest gusts. “I hope Ila and Solveig are okay,” Rorin said worriedly. “They are, we pretty much flew directly over Prazien’s home when they left,” Edan replied, shrugging his wings. “They might be worried about us, though.” Up ahead, the lights from their house came into view. Edan let out a relieved sigh, speeding up to a trot as he made his way to the front door. His second sight showed that Saerun was waiting just inside it. “Oh, good,” she remarked as the threw open the door, only to start and then blink in confusion at the sight of Angie. “So, yea, we’ve got a new friend,” Edan began before reaching into one of his satchels and pulling a bottle out of it. “Got your wine too. Damn heavy.” “Fantastic,” she breathed, obviously still distracted as she accepted the bottle and backed out of the doorway to allow the clan to flood inside. Edan unstrapped the bags he’d been carrying and helped Angie get settled in. “I’ll uh, start dinner soon. I just need to rest for a few minutes.” “Actually, Ciron and I got pretty much everything prepped already,” Saerun replied. “We can manage it. Figured you’d all be pretty tired.” “I’m gonna use my scroll now!” Hazel shouted excitedly. “No, I should go first,” Marshall retorted, putting a talon to his chest. “I made us the most money just with stuff I dug out of the ground! And I’m sick of being cold!” “I have a job I’m specifically supposed to be doing when I change,” Hazel replied. “You don’t. I obviously should go first.”

“…I don’t mind waiting,” Clade said quietly, stepping away from his bickering clanmates and carefully starting to put some of their new items away.

Espen pranced off to find Ciron, a wrapped gift held proudly in her foreclaws.

Rorin watched her wander off, and then - evidently motivated - carefully made his way over to Saerun, taking the pendant from one of his bags. “Um, Saerun?”

“Hm? Yeah?” the skydancer turned to face him, raising a brow.

“Here, this is for you,” he said, holding out the necklace and looking nervously away.

“What?” Saerun asked, staring down at it in confusion. “I uh, oh.”

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t like it,” Rorin said hurriedly. “I just thought you might - sorry if I was wrong, uh - ”

“No - no! I do like it,” Saerun replied with a nervous smile. “I just… I guess I didn’t expect it. Sorry, and thank you, Rorin.”

Saerun carefully took the pendant and put it on, and Rorin trotted off and busied himself with helping Clade put things away.

Edan snorted. He wasn’t sure if he should be amused or not by how awkward that scene was.

Saerun was silent for a bit, fidgeting with the jewellery’s chain and setting up the kitchen area. Then she called out: “Hey, Cir! Can you come help me cook?”

“Yeah, sure,” the pearlcatcher replied before trotting out of the side room, an unfamiliar shawl draped over his shoulders.

“That’s a nice look,” Saerun remarked, then chuckled to herself as she slid a pan over the fire.

“Espen put it on me,” Ciron replied furtively. “I don’t know.”

“I guess it’s just a thing they do here,” Saerun replied with a shrug. “Grab some pine nuts, okay?”

Alright, so gifts seemed to make them uncomfortable. Edan frowned to himself, then sighed.

That would be a talk to have later.

#fr nuzlocke #fr lore #fr writing #flight rising #oc: edan #oc: angie #oc: hazel #etc #isotg

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avengers-nextgen · 6 years ago

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The Aftermath VI

“What is it?” Piper asked, arching a brow as Siyanda returned to the lab with a look of annoyance.

“My father.”

“What’d he do?” Piper winced, setting down her wrench and perching on the edge of the work bench.

“He wants me to go home,” Siyanda shrugged, angrily jerking open the top of a tool box.

“You don’t want to,” Piper noted.

“Of course not. It’s not that I don’t love my home-I do-but I have priorities here. One of those is making sure Thalia heals properly and isn’t...you know.” Siyanda waved her hand as if the word she was looking for would magically appear.

“Being hard on herself?” Piper guessed.

“Something like that,” Siyanda nodded. “Not to mention the issues with Drew. Scout may need my help getting his plan to work and I can’t abandon him. It’s horrible timing, that’s all.”

“Do you know what your dad wants you for?” Piper asked, swinging her legs slightly.

“No. He says it’s important and urgent. That I should make arrangements to return home as soon as possible,” Siyanda sighed, not finding the tool she was looking for. With an agitated flick of the hand she closed the tool box lid with a ‘thud’.

“I can cover for you. I don’t mind putting some of my projects on hold to help Scout out,” Piper suggested.

“I would appreciate that,” Siyanda nodded, “but it doesn’t ease my frustrations.”

“I know,” Piper smiled faintly.

— — —

Siyanda packed her bag hurriedly not caring enough to settle her belongings neatly inside. Instead, she shoved and crammed whatever was needed into the bag and hoped for the best.

“I won’t be long,” Si assured, turning to see Thalia watching her with faint amusement. “What is it?”

“You’re cute when you’re angry...and one of your bras is half hanging out of the bag,” Thalia noted.

Huffing, Siyanda shoved the garment fully into the bag before checking it over: no other clothing was spilling out. With a final tug she zipped the bag shut and slung it over her shoulders. “That would have been embarrassing.”

“Eh,” Thalia shrugged, “worse things could happen.”

“You’re right,” Siyanda sighed, “I’m too worked up.”

“It’s okay,” Thalia promised, “change is difficult especially when it’s sudden.”

“When did you become so wise?” Siyanda smiled, arching a brow.

“I don’t know,” Thalia shrugged looking very much like a kid.

“Well, you’re very intelligent and I think people forget that at times.”

“Thank you,” Thalia blushed faintly.

“Of course,” Siyanda smiled, “now, uh, I have to go. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone but I will try to get in touch as soon as I find out what’s going on.”

“Alright,” Thalia nodded, clambering from her bed where she’d been trying to beat a dueling game Enzo had lended her.

“Love you,” Si breathed, giving Thalia a quick kiss and a hesitant hug.

“Love you too. Oh, make sure you say hi to the animals for me,” Thalia noted.

“I will,” Siyanda snorted.

— — —

The jet ride to Wakanda was a long and silent one. Of course, Siyanda tried to distract herself from the nagging anxiety in her chest, but it was nearly impossible. Her only relief was sleep but even the nap was filled with a faint sense of dread.

Her brain refused to shut down. She laid there for nearly two hours thinking of nothing and everything all at once before finally drifting off to sleep. When she woke, the pilot announced their slow descent.

Collecting her bag which-remained untouched on the flight- the princess waited impatiently for her jet to land. Wheels gracing the small landing strip and a bit of rough rocking later Siyanda was standing once more on Wakandan soul.

The place was unchanged from what she could tell, and the atmosphere brought a sense of nostalgia. Almost immediately her worries disappeared. The golden grass blowed gently in the breeze, the sun was warm upon her shoulders, and the natural world replaced the sounds of New York.

“Siyanda!” A voice called out from across a tiny field.

Turning, Siyanda spotted her aunt waving enthusiastically. “Aunt Shuri!”

Running excitedly through the knee high grass, Siyanda embraced her aunt fiercely. It seemed like forever since they’d seen each other.

“Hey, have you gotten taller?” Shuri asked, pulling back from the hug to study her niece.

“No!” Siyanda laughed, “I stopped growing ages ago. I’m only taller because the ground is slanted.”

“Right,” Shuri winked, “well, I hope your trip was comfortable.”

“More or less,” Siyanda admitted as Shuri set a slow pace towards the looming city ahead. “Do you...well, would you happen to know why my father wanted me here so suddenly?”

“I do,” Shuri nodded, “but he has sworn me to give no information to you and it isn’t my place to do so.”

“Oh.” Siyanda’s shoulders drooped.

“Anyways, how is that girlfriend of yours?” Shuri arched an expectant brow.

“Great,” Siyanda stammered, “she’s uh...well...great.”

“Did you freeze?” Shuri teased, seeming to sense something different about her niece.

“Freeze for what?” Siyanda snorted, giving her aunt the side eye.

“You know what I mean. I can tell when relationships hit third base,” Shuri laughed maniacally as Siyanda punched her arm.

“And no...I didn’t freeze,” the princess glowered.

“Good girl,” Shuri smiled, slinging an arm about Siyanda’s shoulders. “Now, I know there were issues with New York and a group of anti-heroes. One of them being one of our own. He was buried properly as you asked, but did the rest turn out okay?”

“Yes, mostly.” Siyanda spent a good portion of their walk back home relaying the details of their battles and the end result of the conflict. How Nathaniel and Harper went to Killian’s funeral, that Drew had the potential for a recovery along with Bianca, that there was tension in the Laufeyson family, and much more.

“I’m sorry to hear of Thalia’s injuries ,” Shuri frowned, “Are the others alright? Aside from the new comers and Bianca?”

“Yeah,” Si nodded, “things are going good. Piper has a girlfriend now. That’s pretty neat. Her name’s Gen. Very intelligent and thankfully keeps Piper in line when Alex can’t.”

“Ah,” Shuri laughed, “no different than her parents.”

The two chatted for a few more minutes before they arrived at the palace. Siyanda acknowledged the guards with a small smile and nod. It felt odd but refreshing to be at home.

The entire place was as spacious as she remembered with the well manicured gardens, pristine palace walk way, arching walls, glittering ornaments from statues to painting frames, and much more.

“There she is!” T’Challa beamed, standing in the middle of the entry-room.

“Daddy!” Siyanda ran excitedly to her father no different than when she was little. The king picked her up with ease.

“How I’ve missed you,” he grinned, taking a moment to study her appearance. “You’re...you’re so much older. Wise and beautiful too.”

“Where’s mom?” Siyanda asked, looking about expectantly.

“She will be here shortly,” T’Challa promised. “Your mother was only making sure your room was prepared.”

“And it is,” Nakia noted, striding rather proudly into the room.

“Mom!” Siyanda broke away from her father to embrace her mother.

“Hi honey,” Nakia laughed, kissing the top of Siyanda’s head. “Come, take the back pack off it will be put in your room. You’ll be more comfortable without all of this weight. What did you do? Pack a small country in here?”

“I didn’t know what I needed so I took as much as possible,” Siyanda explained bashfully. Shuri rolled her eyes and took the bag from her niece before heading off to put it away.

“You must tell us everything you’ve been up to-“

“After the business we need to discuss,” T’Challa reminded his wife.

“Yeah,” Siyanda frowned glancing between her parents, “what am I here for?”

“Come.” T’Challa waved for Siyanda to follow. The princess jogged to keep pace with her father’s quick stride until she could match it. Nakia trailed slightly behind as the trio headed for the gardens. “As you may know, the kingdom faced unrest.”

“Kubu,” Siyanda nodded.

“Indeed,” T’Challa sighed, “and it was handled with care. Care by you. It was wise to bring him home and offer a proper burial. It was the right thing to do. Such actions only reaffirm what I see in you. Strength, wisdom, kindness, and a strong moral compass.”

“It wasn’t anything you wouldn’t have done,” Siyanda shrugged.

“Perhaps, but I was not faced with the decisions you were,” T’Challa remarked, “but we digress. It is my decision and firm belief that you are old enough to take my place.”

“I’ve known this,” Si laughed, “one day I will take the mantle of ruler and guide Wakanda.”

“Darling,” T’Challa stopped beneath a small veranda leaning against the railing, “that time is now.”

“What?”

“I have served my time. It has been a long and a valiant reign. The people crave a new face, a new perspective, and I think they have grown tired of me,” T’Challa explained.

“Father,” Siyanda frowned, “this isn’t how-“

“I know. My father died and I took the throne. His father died and he took it and so forth. However, I would like to see the day that you take my place. I want to be there and be proud. That time is now. Trust me, I know it’s sudden, but I feel it. It’s right. It is your time here and now to do all things you see just and fit for our people.” A faint smile graced the King’s lips. “You are of age and the coronation is in a week’s time. There is plenty of time for you to finish your studies and begin stepping into the water. Slowly at first then all at once.”

“Dad,” Siyanda interjected before he could continued, “I-I don’t want this.”

“You can’t ignore your responsibilities anymore,” T’Challa glanced at his daughter, “your place is here. Your mother and I have let you stay with your friends in New York. We’ve been flexible and we’ve wanted you to have a good and free childhood, but you must remember your roots. This is your home. You have always been intended to return and flourish amongst your kingdom.”

“I-I know,” Siyanda stammered feeling her throat grow tight, “but you don’t understand. The people don’t want me. They don’t.”

“How can you know that when you have yet to see?”

“Daddy,” the princess’ voice sounded incredibly small, “I can’t rule them because I am me. They do not love me. They never have.”

“But they do.”

“They don’t. They don’t! They hate me. I will divide this kingdom in a heartbeat without ever lifting a finger...Dad! Listen to me!” Siyanda watched her father shake his head in despair. “They will eat me alive. I have driven a rift through our nation because of ancient principles. It’s why Kubu-it’s why he’s dead. Our people value tradition and order and stability. I don’t. I can’t offer them an heir to the throne like our ancestors. They know that and they hate it. If I were to ever bring Thalia here they would destroy her like a pack of hyenas.”

“You cannot give up on your responsibilities because of the Norse girl.” T’Challa insisted.

“It’s not just that. Dad, people will side with me and my views but others won’t. Your advisors won’t. They already made that clear with Acacia’s burial. They practically disgraced her because I loved her. I won’t be the reason Wakanda has a civil war. I won’t!” Siyanda slammed her palm down on the railing drawing her father’s attention.

“You cannot be such a coward as to fear the public. Whether it be now or later you cannot succumb to them. You must have thick skin. You know this. The nation has not always been happy with me but I decide what I see fit. If you cannot do that now or ever you are not meant to rule,” T’Challa’s brow furrowed in worry.

“Then maybe I’m not,” Siyanda shrugged, feeling the familiar sting of tears in her eyes, “and maybe you should have had a son instead!”

“I want what’s best for you.”

“No! You want what’s best for Wakanda,” Siyanda’s voice was loud enough to frighten a few wandering birds from their perches. “When has Wakanda ever wanted what’s best for us?”

Setting her jaw Siyanda left the veranda behind. She didn’t want the crown. She didn’t want the crown if she couldn’t have Thalia. She didn’t want the crown if it destroyed all her father had built. She didn’t want the crown if she couldn’t be happy. She didn’t want the crown if it meant she couldn’t do what she believed was right. She didn’t want a crown if it made her a puppet.

— — —

“I don’t understand. I-I don’t know what to do. What I’m expected to do,” Siyanda sat cross legged in front of the tomb stone wiping furiously at her eyes. “You would know. You always made better sense of all this. Hell, you would’ve been a better heir than me.”

The princess sniffled and looked through bleary eyes at the carefully carved name of her best friend. She didn’t know why she came to Acacia’s tomb but she felt that calling Thalia would only worry the girl. Siyanda knew that in an instant Thalia would encourage her to take he crown and forget about their relationship. Because Thalia was selfless and Siyanda was selfish.

“Hey.” The Princess looked at the unexpected arrival with burning hostility before realizing it was only her aunt. “Your mother told me...”

“Yeah?” Siyanda sniffed. “She tell you I’m a coward too? Cause they’re not wrong you know.”

“Si,” Shuri sat down beside her niece, “it’s okay to be scared. I know you are. I know you’re frightened by the responsibility, the power, the reputation, and I know you’re scared you won’t get to keep your second family in New York. I also know that more than anything you’re terrified you’ll have to give Thalia up.”

“I don’t want to lose them,” Siyanda whimpered, “I love them. I didn’t think having two homes would be hard but it hurts. I feel like I’m being pulled in two different directions.”

“Hey,” Shuri gently tilted Siyanda’s face to wipe away the tears with her thumbs, “there are ways to work things out. You’re smart. Just give it a try. Everything has a learning curve just like everything has gravity pushing down on it. It’s unavoidable but we learn to adapt and deal with it.”

“I just...I want to be me, but I’m worried that Wakanda wants me to be someone else. I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Wakanda can learn. We’ll have to. Heirs are always changing things. For all those old geezers set in their ways spewing hate-they’re all replaced by a younger more tolerant generation. Things have already become so different from when I was a kid. Things will be different again and I trust it’ll be for a good reason. You just have to trust yourself.” Shuri winked, drawing Siyanda into a tight hug. “Now, sleep on it. If you really don’t want this that’s okay. I’ll stick by you. But, if even the smallest part of you wants the crown-to do something beautiful in Wakanda-do it. Do it no matter what people say.”

“Okay,” Siyanda nodded, taking a moment to steady her breathing. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Shuri smiled. “Come on. It’s late.”

And just as Siyanda had arrived back in Wakanda she headed home once more with her aunt.

#avengers #avengers next gen #marvel #black widow #captain america #mcu #natasha romanoff #pepper potts #romanogers #scarlet witch #phase3 #theaftermath #the aftermath

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pumpkin-bread · 6 years ago

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“Okay now, there’s no way in hell we can afford this,” Edan stated flatly, looking between the four very excited nocturnes.

“I don’t fancy digging too deep out there,” Edan replied brusquely. “Taboo.”

“I’ll keep digging,” Marshall stated. “I can sniff that stuff out, I swear.”

“You should listen to Edan - ” Clade began, but then stopped himself and shook his head before looking over his own scroll. “Or... I’m sure there’s a safe way to do it, right? You said other dragons mine, right?”

“That’s right,” Zuehal nodded.

“Ugh,” Edan shook his head and growled. “Look, we’ll look into this more... later. We’ll talk about it. That’s all I’m promising.”

“And that’s all I ask!” Zuehal replied, clapping his hands together before turning back to the nocturnes. “So, let’s go over this one more time. Don’t read the scrolls until you are safely home, and I would advise you to not all do so at once. Transformations can be quite... difficult, though to my understanding most aren’t too painful. I can assure you mine wasn’t. Don’t be alarmed if you have trouble adjusting at first! You should feel normal about... a week or so after your shift.”

As Zuehal instructed the quartet, Edan checked over the rest of the group. Rorin was carrying a delicate necklace between his teeth, Solveig had a rather fancy-looking box of chocolates clutched to their chest like their life depended on it, and Ila had several small packets of what he assumed to be seeds. When he caught her eye, she smiled and headed over to him.

“Hello, Edan!” she greeted cheerily, looking from him to Angie, who was seated by his side. “And hello to you! My name is Ila!”

“This is Angie,” Edan stated, nodding toward the pale nocturne. “She’s... going to be part of our clan, for the time being.”

“Angie!” Ila exclaimed, beaming down at the smaller dragon. “What a cute name! It’s very nice to meet you!”

“Oh, th-thank you,” Angie replied, blinking in some vague surprise at Ila’s enthusiasm. “It’s nice to meet you, as well.”

Zuehal seemed to finish up briefing the nocturnes, and started to head in their direction.

“How about you come with me and I introduce you to the others?” Ila offered, holding out a hand.

“Alright,” Angie replied, carefully taking Ila’s hand and allowing herself to be led off toward Sol and Rorin.

“So, Edan, does it look like everything’s been covered?” Zuehal asked, stepping forward and holding out Edan’s list.

“Uh. Looks like it,” Edan replied, swallowing thickly as he looked over the series of check marks Zuehal had made on the page. “Gods damn, man. I still don’t really get why you’re doing this.”

“It’s an investment,” Zuehal replied simply. “And besides, I take care of my... friends, you know.”

“You’re still taking all of this,” Edan stated simply, shoving his bag of coins in the wildclaw’s hands.

“Edan, that’s not ne - ”

“Hey, I don’t have anything else to spend it on! It’s just a liability taking up space in my house, you take it!”

“Alright, alright,” Zuehal stammered. Then he laughed. “I suppose that makes sense. I can certainly use it, bring more wares your way in the future.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Edan replied with a firm nod. “Any ballpark on when that’ll be? So we can be prepared, and all.”

“I’d say... late Spring. End of Tidelord’s, start of Gladekeeper’s,” Zuehal mused. “Does that sound sensible?”

“Yeah, gives us time to rebuild our... stocks, I guess.”

“I look forward to seeing it all,” Zuehal grinned. “And to see how much bigger your clan gets by then.”

“Hopefully not that much bigger,” Edan snorted. “We already need to build another house.”

“We’ll see, I suppose!” Zuehal replied. “Do you need any help getting your bags sorted?”

“Nah, we can manage. Thank you, Zue,” Edan took a moment to bow his head, showing more proper respect for the merchant. He’d almost forgotten, entirely due to how hard is was to wrap his head around it all. He turned to call out to his clan. “Alright, everyone secure what you’re getting! Pick up a bag and strap it on! We’re about to head out!”

The sun was beginning to set as they soared over the trees, each dragon laden with goods from their trip. Edan was having a particular struggle; Angie’s wings were too burned to be used for long, and he’d been carrying her much of the way.

Solveig drifted toward him, Ila trailing behind. “I’m going to go see Praz,” they stated. “And introduce her to Ila. We may both stay over for the night, since it’s getting late. Is that alright?”

“Yep,” Edan nodded. “Be safe.”

“We will,” Solveig replied before veering off.

Ila offered an enthusiastic wave with both hands before following suit.

Angie giggled to herself quietly, then hunkered down against his shoulder blades as a chill wind hit the group.

“Ugh!” Hazel remarked from somewhere behind him.

“See, this is why I wanted to be a tundra,” Marshall huffed. “It’s so godsdamned cold out here!”

“It’s winter!” Edan shouted back, rolling his eyes. “Summer hits and we’re gonna have to shave you down!”

Much of the group was laughing at this point.

“...Fine!” Marshall replied, some vague amusement in his tone amidst his annoyance. “I bet I can do it myself, though!”

“It’s better for smelling rocks, though!” Angie offered, voice nervously raised to be audible.

“What?” Marshall shouted back.

“Tundras! Better at smelling!” Angie shouted. “You’ll be better at sniffing out rocks!”

“Oh. Cool!”

The rest of the flight went smoothly, the group in high spirits in spite of the growing windstorm. They threw jokes and playful banter back and forth until the wind drowned everything else out.

They landed before it became too much to stay airborne. Thankfully, they only had to walk another 20 or so minutes to reach home as the trees around them whipped wildly, at some points bent sideways with the strongest gusts.

“I hope Ila and Solveig are okay,” Rorin said worriedly.

“They are, we pretty much flew directly over Prazien’s home when they left,” Edan replied, shrugging his wings. “They might be worried about us, though.”

Up ahead, the lights from their house came into view. Edan let out a relieved sigh, speeding up to a trot as he made his way to the front door. His second sight showed that Saerun was waiting just inside it.

“Oh, good,” she remarked as the threw open the door, only to start and then blink in confusion at the sight of Angie.

“So, yea, we’ve got a new friend,” Edan began before reaching into one of his satchels and pulling a bottle out of it. “Got your wine too. Damn heavy.”

“Fantastic,” she breathed, obviously still distracted as she accepted the bottle and backed out of the doorway to allow the clan to flood inside.

Edan unstrapped the bags he’d been carrying and helped Angie get settled in. “I’ll uh, start dinner soon. I just need to rest for a few minutes.”

“Actually, Ciron and I got pretty much everything prepped already,” Saerun replied. “We can manage it. Figured you’d all be pretty tired.”

“I’m gonna use my scroll now!” Hazel shouted excitedly.

“No, I should go first,” Marshall retorted, putting a talon to his chest. “I made us the most money just with stuff I dug out of the ground! And I’m sick of being cold!”

“I have a job I’m specifically supposed to be doing when I change,” Hazel replied. “You don’t. I obviously should go first.”

“...I don’t mind waiting,” Clade said quietly, stepping away from his bickering clanmates and carefully starting to put some of their new items away.

Espen pranced off to find Ciron, a wrapped gift held proudly in her foreclaws.

Rorin watched her wander off, and then - evidently motivated - carefully made his way over to Saerun, taking the pendant from one of his bags. “Um, Saerun?”

“Hm? Yeah?” the skydancer turned to face him, raising a brow.

“Here, this is for you,” he said, holding out the necklace and looking nervously away.

“What?” Saerun asked, staring down at it in confusion. “I uh, oh.”

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t like it,” Rorin said hurriedly. “I just thought you might - sorry if I was wrong, uh - ”

“No - no! I do like it,” Saerun replied with a nervous smile. “I just... I guess I didn’t expect it. Sorry, and thank you, Rorin.”

Saerun carefully took the pendant and put it on, and Rorin trotted off and busied himself with helping Clade put things away.

Edan snorted. He wasn’t sure if he should be amused or not by how awkward that scene was.

Saerun was silent for a bit, fidgeting with the jewellery’s chain and setting up the kitchen area. Then she called out: “Hey, Cir! Can you come help me cook?”

“Yeah, sure,” the pearlcatcher replied before trotting out of the side room, an unfamiliar shawl draped over his shoulders.

“That’s a nice look,” Saerun remarked, then chuckled to herself as she slid a pan over the fire.

“Espen put it on me,” Ciron replied furtively. “I don’t know.”

“I guess it’s just a thing they do here,” Saerun replied with a shrug. “Grab some pine nuts, okay?”

Alright, so gifts seemed to make them uncomfortable. Edan frowned to himself, then sighed. That would be a talk to have later.

#flight rising #fr lore #fr nuzlocke #the whole gang is mentioned #except Veldr

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littleredroseonthevalley · 7 years ago

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Red Rose - Chapter 17

Prologue Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8 Ch. 9 Ch. 10 Ch. 11Ch. 12 Ch. 13 Ch. 14 Ch. 15 Ch. 16 CH. 17

Summary: Christmas arrives to Cordonia, and Riley feels emotional with the lack of snow and her solitude. Her hopes for a quiet holiday were soon twarted, though, with an attack where she least expected.

Rating: M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Avlona, Cordonia, Christmas Eve 2015

The holidays were a silent happening for Riley that year. It has been that way for years, now. This time, however, it seemed more so, as she now had friends, something like a boyfriend, and had reconnected with Charlotte.

She wasn’t alone by choice, but by circumstance.

Hana was at the Baleares with her parents and other relatives, spending their season under the Mediterranean sun. Drake and Liam were a short drive away from her, at Brigade Hill, but she doubted either the King or the Queen would be too glad seeing her.

Maxwell called her from Switzerland the day after Charlotte and she fled from Applewood. He had apologized he couldn’t say goodbye before the holidays, as Bertrand, unsurprisingly, was in a hurry. It was a good thing, though, as she wouldn’t have to explain why she left in the middle of the night.

After their flight from Applewood, Riley and Charlotte stopped by a deposit, as in to leave in safe-keeping some of her prized possessions, especially those which could compromise her identity, such as other fake passports, her bank card, the key to a Swiss safe deposit box in which she kept other important valuables and miscellaneous documents, which bared her birth name. Her journals, under Liam’s possession, were the only other sensitive object not protected.

Those, and a small jewelry box. One Charlotte wasn’t privy to its existance.

After their quick stop at the warehouse, the two women parted ways. Riley checked into a tourist-y hotel near Paparoúna Court, while Charlotte left for Italy. Not that her marriage was in any good shape, but it was to be expected she would spend her holidays with the Duke in Guastalla, rather than with her in Valona.

While Riley dwelled on that line of thought, her phone went off. “Your ears were burning?” She answered.

“Why?” Charlotte asks, confused.

“I was just thinking about you.” Riley responded, with a smile. “What gives?”

“Not much.” She shrugged. “Federigo is passed out in the couch, thankfully. I’m finishing dinner. You?”

“Room service.” The other said, simply.

“Well, I called to wish you a merry Christmas, but since yours is being as miserable as mine, I can give you a piece of bad news.”

“Bad news?” Riley echoes, concerned. “What happened?”

“Do you remember that Art teacher you were so fond of?” Charlotte lead with that. “Peter Brandl?”

She recalled the mouse-y man who used to teach her Art. “Yes, I do. He was a broker for Ludwig, right?”

“Yeah, he worked for the Fund in Prague.” The blonde hummed.

“What about him?”

“Well, I called mother earlier for wishing her a merry Christmas, and she said his body had been found at the Danube in Hainburg.” Charlotte ripped off the band-aid.

“Mister Brandl is dead?!” The other woman asks, incredulously. “Do they know what happened?”

Charlotte hummed. “The police ruled it as a suicide. Apparently, he was debt-ridden. Besides, he was a lonely man, no friends, no family, no wife, no children. If not for mother’s solidarity, he would go to the homeless pit. At the very least, he got a proper burial.”

“How sad!” Riley lamented. “I wish I could have been to his funeral.”

“Have you read the file I gave you?” She asked, changing the subject.

“Yes, it appears Bellevue kept a comprehensive file of the girls who worked for him.” The black-haired said, calm. “This is about some girl named Leda. She ‘joined’ in 1990 and was relieved of her position a few years later.”

“Anything special about her?” The blonde questioned. “There must be something special about it. Katya said it was on a safe.”

She shook her head instinctively. “Not that I can tell. Except for one thing, she has the marking for a client, number 830, who enjoyed her services for over five months.”

“That’s an awful amount of time to be with a hooker.” Charlotte commented.

“Charlotte.” Riley chastised.

“What?” She asked, in a teasing high pitch. “It is.”

“Be as it may,” The other responded, demeaning. “There is a photo attached to the file. That should be a lead to find out where she is.”

“And who she is.” The blonde echoed.

As she finishes her sentence, the TV blasts the opening theme for ‘María la del Barrio’, a Mexican soap opera.

“I cannot believe you’re watching this crap.” She scoffed. “It’s Christmas. Have some respect for yourself.”

“I like it, okay?” The other defended. “It’s dubbed in Greek. It’s terrible. But I like it.”

Itatí Cantoral, who played the main antagonist Soraya, gave a malicious laughter over at the TV.

“Terrible indeed.” Charlotte echoed. “Hey, remember when Grandmother would play those sappy French radio soaps?”

“Old woman Franziska sure loved those. She put me, you and Alexander to hear those, and then we went out and replay the episode out in the garden.” Riley reminisced.

“Mother got crazy mad with us playing at the flower beds.”

“Of course, she would. We destroyed the roses, making Alexander pluck them every once in a while, to propose to you or to me, as the script dictated.” The black-haired pointed out.

Just then, a knock came from her door. “Are you expecting anyone?” Charlotte asks.

“No, not really.” She responded and walked over to answer the door. The presence startled her. “Drake?!”

“What?!” The woman shouted over the phone. “Drake’s over there?! What on Hell he’s doing?! Pass over the phone to him at once! Are you listening, Riley?!”

Ignoring Charlotte’s voice but mirroring her question, Riley asks: “What are you doing here?”

He scoffed, good naturedly. “Some welcoming, huh, Flowers?”

“I’m sorry, but I wasn’t expecting you.” She said. “Do you want to come in?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” He said, and she let him in.

“What are you doing?” Charlotte asks, over the phone.

“Excuse me for a minute.” Riley says, and then places the cell on her ear. “Talk to you later.”

“No! Wait!” The blonde tried to meddle, but Riley hung up.

The black-haired woman walked him over to the small sitting area on her room and motioned for him to sit. “Now, what good winds bring you here? I thought you’d be dining with Liam and his family tonight.”

“Oh, please.” He scoffed. “You think Regina would let me at the table with them? Sometimes the security let me join their feast, but normally I spend it alone.”

She smirked. “So, you came here to be alone together?”

“Pretty much.” He lowered his sight. “I also brought you something. From Liam.”

He pulled a small box from his coat pocket and slid across the table to her. Inside, there was a small pendant. “It’s beautiful!” She gushed. “Help me put it on?”

“Sure.” He coughed and stood up. She pulled her hair, baring her milky white, soft skin of her neck and shoulders to him. He took the necklace and fastened it.

Suddenly, he was taken by a want to kiss that exposed skin. He lowered his face to it, the warm breath sending chills to Riley’s spine. His height shadowed the woman, who wasn’t short herself. When he was millimeters from the flustering body, a knock resounded through the room.

With that, he sobered up and took a step back. “You should go answer.” He chocked.

She sighed. “Okay.”

Riley walked over to the door the second time that night and opened it.

“Riley!” Maxwell’s perky voice screeched on Drake’s ears and damping his mood.

“Merry Christmas!” Hana wished, sweetly.

Riley was dumbstruck. “Maxwell! Hana! I thought you were abroad.”

“We were.” The young man responded. “But Switzerland was boring, the room was terrible, Bertrand wouldn’t let me ski, so I came back.”

“We met at the lobby, actually.” Hana provided. “My family was thrilled I was invited to the Royal Family private Christmas feast.”

“But you’re here.” Riley pointed out.

“They don’t need to know that.” Hana said, with a wicked smile that felt foreign on her face. “They also don’t need to know I wasn’t invited, either.”

“Well, it is great to have you both here.” Riley smiled at them. “Come in, make yourselves comfortable.”

They stepped into the room and met Drake, standing there. “Drake! You’re here!” Maxwell exclaimed, surprised.

“Are we interrupting anything?” Hana asked, politely.

“No.” The man grumbled in response. “I was just bringing a parcel to Riley. I should leave.”

“Nonsense.” Riley said. “I’ll call room service and we can have a feast up here ourselves.”

“Great! I’m starving!” Maxwell said, sitting at one of the chairs. Hana gave the other three an appraising look and sat down next to the excitable man.

Drake waited standing for Riley to finish the call, as in to offer the last one of the three chairs. She declined with a: “I’ll sit on the bed.”

The black-haired picked up the remote and turned off the finishing credits to María la del Barrio.

“What were you watching?” Hana asks, curious.

“A Mexican soap opera.” Riley answers, dismissive. “It’s just something I do when I’m bored.”

Drake scoffs, mockingly.

“What? Did you think I’d study etiquette for fun?” Riley defies.

“Honestly, I don’t know which one is worse.” He answered.

The woman looked dirty at him and went over to her closet. She put a glass bottle in front of him. “Here, take it before I throw it on your head.”

He looked carefully at her and opened the wrapping. It was a 23-year-old Evan Williams Bourbon Whiskey. It sold for two thousand dollars in most of Cordonia, which was enough for making Drake gape.

“Jesus, Flowers, are you nuts?” He asks, taken aback. “Those things are crazy expensive.”

“I have a friend who let me have it for cheap.” She dismissed his worry. “Charlotte said you preferred Schlitzer, but I couldn’t find any for sale.”

He tried to disguise a grateful blush from seeping into his cheeks. “Thanks, Flowers. I’m sorry I don’t have anything for you.”

“You’ll have to outdo yourself next year, then.” She smirked at him. “Hana, this is yours.” She handed a rectangular package to her.

The Asian felt the package, trying to guess what was inside. Unable to, she asked: “What is it?”

Riley smiled. “Open up and see for yourself!”

The other woman obeyed and teared the wrapping paper. There was a leather-bound notebook.

“It is a sheet music notebook.” Riley explained. “It is completely blank, for you to write down your piano compositions. Well, blank save for the first page.”

“Sie zog tief in sein Herz, wie die Melodie eines Liedes, die aus der Kindheit heraufklingt.“ She read the dedication and wiped her eyes clean of tears. “Thank you, Riley. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, Hana.” They hugged the moment out. “Now, last but not least, Maxwell.”

He was sitting by the edge of his chair, in childish anxiety. “Gimme!”

“Now, Maxwell, I’m going to give you something that symbolizes my trust and care for you.” She handed him a DVD. “This is the recording of the New York leg of ‘Straight to the Heart 2010 Tour’.”

“Sophie Ellis-Baxtor?” He tested the name and took the DVD, confused. “Thanks, I guess.”

She neared his face and whispered to his ear. “Watch it, and then you tell me what you think.”

He looked at her like a kicked puppy. It didn’t take a genius to know he was disappointed. “Okay, Riley.”

The bellboys arrived with their Christmas feast and they settled poorly around the small table and served themselves with turkey and chestnuts.

By ten o’clock, she was alone yet again. Maxwell and Hana excused themselves to get checked into the Hilton, in Vougliameni, while Drake had to return early to the palace, as security wouldn’t let him in later.

Out of some kind of childish sentimentality, Riley persuaded herself to go to the Midnight Mass at a Catholic church nearby. She would have attended the ceremony at Anastasis, but since the Orthodox followed the Julian calendar, Christmas would arrive a week later for the Greek community in Cordonia.

The Cathedral of Our Lady of Good Council was an Italian-style church at the South end of the port area, on top of Gloire Hill. It was the cathedra for the Archdiocese of Valona, and the main congregation for the French Catholics in Cordonia.

She arrived at the temple ten minutes before the start of the mass. The benches were full, but the church wasn’t crowded. Riley waked over to the altar and paid her respects to the image of Cordonia’s patron saint.

With little difficulty, Riley found a secluded seat and waited for the ceremony to begin. The mass started, and a few minutes in, a man sat right next to her.

The priest and a deacon enter the altar and start the Act of Penitence. “I confess to Almighty God, to blessed Mary ever Virgin, to blessed Michael the Archangel, to blessed John the Baptist, to the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, to all the Saints, and to you, brethren, that I have sinned exceedingly in thought, word and deed: through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.

“Therefore, I beseech blessed Mary ever Virgin, blessed Michael the Archangel, blessed John the Baptist, the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, all the Saints, and you, brethren, to pray for me to the Lord our God.” The congregation repeats after the clergyman.

“You know, this part always tears me up.” The man next to Riley commented.

“Nothing is more wretched than a guilty conscience.” She offhandedly offered.

“Shakespeare?” He asks, uncertain.

“Plautus, a Roman playwright.”

He laughed quietly. “You’re full of little aphorisms, aren’t you, Lady Riley?”

“It is as much fun as it denotes a certain elevation of the intellect.” She shrugged it off. “But we were talking about guilt, were we not, Lord Bellevue?”

“I believe we were.” He hummed. “Though, this is less about my guilty conscience then it is about what you had printed on the papers about me.”

“That much was a given. After all, to have a guilty conscience, one must have a conscience beforehand.” She said, daringly.

He scoffed. “So brave, so much gall.” He took off a black piece of metal from his trench coat’s pocket. It glistened on the Christmas lights of the church and it had an almost-inconspicuous unlocking click. It was a pistol. “Are you still feeling brave?”

Her teeth glistened on an unease smile. “You’d have to be pretty stupid to murder me here now. I’d wager I have until the communion, at the very least.”

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men of good will. We praise You, we bless You, we adore You, we glorify You, we give You thanks for Your great glory, Lord God, heavenly King, O God Almighty Father.

“Lord Jesus Christ, Only-Begotten Son, Lord God, Lamb of God, Son of the Father, who take away the sins of the world, have mercy on us; Who take away the sins of the world, hear our prayer. You Who sit at the right hand of the Father, have mercy on us. For You alone are the Holy One, you alone the Lord, you alone the Most High, Jesus Christ, with the Holy Spirit in the Glory of God the Father. Amen.” The community chanted the Gloria.

“Mercy, that is a funny sentiment.” He scoffed. “You and the press certainly had none for me.”

“And you had none to Katya and Zarina and all the other girls.” She pointed out.

“Merciless? Me? After rescuing those girls from deject poverty? After leading this country through its golden age? I should be hailed.”

“How unfair is life, isn’t it?” She said, sarcastic.

“You are not without your secrets, Lady Riley.” He said, changing the subject slightly. “It is intriguing how you managed to waltz into circles any other person, even with all sorts of noble titles, take a lifetime to infiltrate.”

“I was at the wrong place, at the wrong time.” She countered. “Believe me, I would much prefer to be in New York by now.”

He trailed her neck with his right index finger, while the gun rested on his left hand. “You have posture, you have class, you have beauty. You’re no peasant.”

“Reading the right books and dressing the right clothes, it happens to be not that hard.” She said, shrugging

“So very opinionated. This is not a flattering attribute. And yet, you’ll become Queen of Cordonia soon enough.” He ironized.

She scoffed. “You’re naïve if you think so. Regina picks the Queen, and she chose Madeleine.”

“So, I have heard, but I merely assumed you would have a plan to take her down, just like you had me.” He countered.

She laughed, quietly, as in not to call attention to herself. “And what makes you think I would have taken you down if I had any plans to become Queen? Expose myself like that would be very counterproductive, don’t you think?”

“So, this is what this is all about? Revenge for not being picked?” He said, incredulous for being collateral damage.

“In a way.” She conceded. “But mainly because it is fun to see the world burn.”

The priest begins his sermon: “When the angel tells Mary that she’s going to give birth to Jesus, the message is ‘don’t be afraid’. ‘Fear not’ is what the angel also says to Joseph in his dream. That’s the dream which convinces him to stay faithful to this girl to whom he’s betrothed and who finds herself strangely pregnant. There are lots of reasons to be afraid in the Christmas story. Who wouldn’t be afraid away from home with nowhere to stay and about to give birth? Who wouldn’t be afraid when there was a despot like King Herod around? He wasn’t above murdering members of his own family if he took a dislike to them.

“A couple of months ago I was in Bethlehem for the first time in almost twenty years. We went to Beit Sahour about three kilometers outside Bethlehem. It’s where the Shepherds’ Fields are found. Despite the constant stream of pilgrims, it’s a peaceful place. But there is fear in air. The Shepherds’ Fields look across the valley to an Israeli settlement. In between there’s the security fence and wall separating Israel from the Palestinian Territories. It’s a vivid symbol that where the Prince of Peace was born there is no peace. And yet to troubled Bethlehem countless people come as pilgrims on a journey of faith, curious to see the place where Jesus was born, wanting to catch something of the joy, mystery and love of the Christ-child, God with us. The little town of Bethlehem will be packed tonight.

“Suddenly it seemed to make entire sense to me that Jesus was not born in a place of stability, security, prosperity and freedom. He was born in occupied territory, in poverty, in danger, and where there was no room for him at the inn. Pilgrims to Bethlehem still go to a problem place of high unemployment, where many of its citizens cannot visit Jerusalem just a few miles away and where many citizens of Jerusalem cannot visit Bethlehem. But that’s the point. God reveals himself to us within the troubles of the world, not after our problems are solved. Jesus Christ is born in us when we are ill or after we’ve had a row, when we’re divorced, or when we are lonely. The birth of this child in Bethlehem two thousand years ago wasn’t some simple solution to the world’s problems. He grew to be a man who had to face suffering, an unfair trial and an undeserved death himself. He knew life wasn’t fair. But this is God coming to live alongside us, within us, to bring us hope because even when we don’t love one another he never gives up loving us. That’s the joy of the Christmas message.

“There’s a chapel in the Shepherds’ Fields at Beit Sahour, just outside Bethlehem. There are three paintings within it depicting the story of the shepherds. The first recalls the angels telling the shepherds of the birth of Jesus; the second pictures them at the stable where they find this new born child. The third is of their return journey for Luke says, ‘the shepherds returned glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen’.

“Each of the scenes features a dog with the shepherds. The dog is terrified in the first painting, attentive in the stable, and is clearly dancing with joy on the return journey, ears pricked up, caught in mid-bark and tail wagging. The shepherds and their dog return to work but transformed. They face the same problems and live the same lives but with new hope because of the joy coming from this child, Jesus Christ, God with us.

“Fear not. May the message of the angels and the joy of the shepherds be yours and mine tonight. A very happy and joyful Christmas to you all.” He finishes his sermon.

“Are you a Catholic, Lady Riley?” Lord Bellevue asks.

“I am hardly anything, Lord Bellevue.” She said, inattentive. “I haven’t step on a temple of anything for almost a decade now.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” He scoffed. “For all your single-minded dedication to a fleeting, insubstantial goal, you would have a future as a crusader.”

She smirked. “Much the opposite. I do what I do because I believe God is dead, therefore my actions are completely inconsequential.”

“You’ll know for certain soon enough.” He taunted, twisting the gun he held to her waist.

“I’m certain you would much prefer if I was crying and begging for my life.”

He laughed. “I cannot say I would not. You are making this whole thing very boring.”

“I’ll keep your notes in mind next time someone abducts me from a church.” She defied. “But, I fear, I am a lady worthy of the name.”

“If all noblewomen were like you, Lady Riley, there wouldn’t be a single republic in the world.” He praised, ironic.

“I thank you, Lord Bellevue, and as a gesture of goodwill, I would like to remind you we are at the Anaphora. In ten minutes, the old lady to my left is going to come over and wish me a merry Christmas.” She commented. “As much as she’s being a good sport about your more vocal disturbances, I find it hard to believe she wouldn’t notice you’re holding me at gunpoint.”

“Then we should be going to a more private place, no?” His smirk glinted.

Lord Bellevue took her arm, pulled her up and shot to the ceiling three times. The mass came to a halt, and the parishioners started to scream in terror. Taking advantage of the commotion, the former politician pulls her from the seats and out the door.

As the two of them exit the church, however, a police operation had been formed on the stairs. The building was completely surrounded.

“You planned this!” He shouted, angrily.

“You never asked whether I had my phone.” She smirked at him.

He pushed her and was about to shoot her, but he got shot first by the police officers. With the wound, he dropped the gun and Riley scurried away quickly to behind the lines.

She finally found a familiar face, Drake’s, and hugs him, crying, as the adrenaline wears off. “It’s okay,” He whispered feverishly to her ear. “You’re okay now.”

Hana and Maxwell appeared soon after, and Riley hugged them both, tightly. The two of them led her to a car and took her away from the scene.

As the car drove off, Riley could hear Bellevue being taken forcefully by the policemen, cursing and shouting.

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thecrazydragonlady · 7 years ago

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The Immortal Pharaoh Chapter 6

Nearly a week after the incident with Kush, Atem was wide awake. He and Heba were sleeping on the roof to their shared room, something they had done for years. Heba stayed peaceful next to him. Atem smiled softly at him, relishing in the peace that seemed to blanket itself around the two of them. He knew though that this wouldn't last. There was no helping it after all. He had overheard Siamun and a couple of the other advisors speaking about his father's illness. It was getting worse and even with the use of the Millennium Items, there didn't seem to be any type of cure they could find.

Atem had no choice. He had to act today. He had carefully been studying the guard routes; with the rising of the morning sun, there would be a changing of them that would result in a gap of time where no one could stop him.

It was time to go.

Time to live his life before the chain of duty finally had its hands on him.

Atem silently moved from his brother's side. Heba mumbled and rolled over but did not otherwise wake. Atem released his breathe. He dropped back to the ground, making sure to keep his sandals off so that he made no sound as he moved back through the room; he went straight to their bed where he pulled out a bag he had already packed for the big day. He also pulled out a water skin which he filled from the pond nearby. Once done, he packed it in with the rest of his things. He took one final look at the room. Before he left, he was sure to leave a peace of rolled up papyrus for his brother. The farewell he was too scared to give because he knew that Heba would have stopped him.

And he didn't know if he would have had the strength to fight him.

There was a story they used to share with each other, about a hero from the North that went on grand adventures, saving countless cities from various troubles. He smirked. He hoped that mentioning said character would send the impending search North for him. His plans were to head South, to the lower parts of the country. It was only a matter of time, after all, before they did send one. He smirked wirily. Would anyone really be fooled? Atem couldn’t be sure but he had to try.

What he did know was that there was no way he could just waltz out of the palace with his hair completely exposed as it was. Even if one hadn't seen either of the royal heirs, there was no dismissing their tri-colored spikes. His only solution was to cover it with a simple head cloth held secure by an equally simple circlet. It would serve for his purposes. Atem, once ready, hoisted the bag over one of his shoulders and climbed back up to the roof. He looked once more at his brother before quietly tiptoeing to the edge of the building, looking for any guards in both directions before he jumped to a lower wall a few feet away. By walking along it, he was able to make his way to the larger outer wall where he had to pause as he heard the last of the guards clear the area to begin switching. It was only in the silence did he use a ladder he had placed in a shadowy corner a couple of weeks prior; he was mighty glad that it hadn't been questioned or removed . He propped it up. His heart was pounding with each step that he took, leading himself higher and higher until he cleared the top of the wall. He gauged the distance to the ground. Thankfully, there was a smaller hut beside it that he could use to drop safely to the sand below. He did, somehow without twisting either of his ankles or breaking a bone.

Energy flushed through his system.

Free.

Atem was free.

Free of duty. Free of title. Free.

He couldn't keep the goofy grin off of his face as he strolled down the street. The further he got from the palace, the more crowded the living quarters became and they were certainly rougher, but he wasn't intimidated. If anything, it was thrilling.

Someone suddenly caught him by the shoulder. He spun, pulling out of the grasps. The man behind him wore only a loin cloth and there was definitely a deep smell of alcohol spewing off of him, causing Atem to gag. The man eyed him. The prince didn't like the smirk he was giving him, "Hey boy. Where's your dad? Aren't you a little young to be out this late."

"What do you want," he snapped. The man snickered. He grabbed at him again, this time reaching for the top of his outfit and, getting hold of it, pulled him up off of his feet.

"I think I'll take whatever is in that pack of yours kid." Atem's face paled. The man reached for it but he kicked out, his foot effectively connecting with the man's midsection. Both of them dropped. Atem scrambled to his feet. The man wasn't too far behind. He reached up. Rough hands grabbed to catch his ankle which nearly sent him back to the ground but he froze, not pulling away to keep his balance. The man growled. Thinking fast, he figured he had no choice, and so he reached into his pack, pulling out a small coin purse that he threw off in a different direction. The drunkard saw it and released him. Atem didn't hang around. He ran.

He ran hard and long until he was clear of the street, of the village, and out into the Egyptian sands.

*****

Atem had severally underestimated his need for certain goods for this journey.

As he walked, he pulled the water skin up to his lips, finishing off the last of his water reserves and the Nile hours behind him. He pursed his lips. He was going to be in need of more soon, especially with the way the sun was blazing; food was also necessary as he had already eaten some and had the rest stolen by a flock of hungry birds when he had stopped to eat the parts he did get. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. There was nothing but sand for miles around him. Atem sent up a silent prayer to the gods for redemption and he continued on.

An hour after his predicament started, a sigh of relief came from his lips as he found himself coming upon a tiny village. Maybe he could get a job for food and water….? As he crossed the line from desert to village, he found himself slightly lost and confused on what to do. So he wandered. And listened. Closer to the middle, right where a large well sprang up and several people were speaking amongst themselves, he came across a distraught looking woman, staring at an empty mat, rested there possibly for one of the vendors. He hesitated. Atem wasn’t one to leave someone in worry. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder. She spun, shocked, but fighting strong tears back. He smiled gently at her, “Excuse me. Is there anything I can do to help?”

She reached up, wiping the edges of her eyes, “I’m afraid not. Unless you are a scribe.” She sniffed. Fighting harder, she continued, “You see, my eldest son went hunting a year ago and has not returned. My husband and other son have gone every day to find him but we fear the worst; I was hoping the scribe would write for me a prayer so that I can ensure he makes it safely to the afterlife…. Even if we cannot give him a proper burial.” Atem’s face softened.

“I can help you after all,” he soothed, “I happen to be a scribe myself. I am trained in both writing and prayers.” Her face lit up.

“Will you…?” He nodded. Taking place a on the mat, he pulled out some of the supplies he had brought with him: papyrus, pen, and ink. He dipped the pen into the ink and paused, waiting for the words to come to him.

When they did, he quickly, but neatly, wrote out prayer, reciting it, “Great Anhur, god of those who hunt, we come to you now, begging for your internal mercy for the spirit of this great warrior who has severed in your name.” He stopped and asked the woman for her son’s name. Once he had it, he wrote it, continuing with, “We ask for your protection on his soul so that he may find peace everlasting.” He lifted his face once done, finding the woman no longer holding back her tears as he handed her the paper. “Will this do?”

She nodded, “Yes, it will. Thank you! Thank you!” She reached to her side where a small bag hung and she pulled from it a couple of coins, to which she pressed to him. Atem raised his hands.

“I am not….”

“Please, take them. This is all I am able to afford but for my son’s soul, I would pay far more.” He hesitated but eventually took the coins. She left. A voice hummed from behind him and he jumped up, surprised to find an elderly man, gnarled and bony, staring at him, a smile on his face. Atem bowed.

“You must be the one who owns this mat.”

“Indeed I am,” the man mused. Atem held out his hand and he likewise did the same, allowing the coins he had just received to fall there.

“I apologize for taking your spot,” he commented, “but it didn’t feel right to leave her so distraught.”

“Your writing skills are excellent,” the old man returned, “and that prayer… are you perhaps a priest?” Atem chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head.

“I’ve had some training in prayers, yes.” This time, he huffed.

“That much is obvious.” He paused. Turning, the old man motioned to the house behind him. “Come in boy. My wife would throw an ever loving fit if I didn’t at least invite you in for dinner. Where are you traveling to?”

Oh. He hadn’t thought that far ahead and so, shakily, he muttered out, “To- To Thebes.” To further the lie: “I go for proper priest training there.” The old man huffed again.

“You’ll find excellent training there then. Now come. It is time to eat.”

Atem found himself enjoying his time with the couple but the fear of being discovered by his father’s searches eventually got the better of him three days later. The couple begged him to stay. When the old man could no longer sit on his mat, needing to retreat inside for a break, Atem would kindly take his place, providing prayers and papers to all who needed them. He smiled gently at their begging. He could not stay; the chain of duty had begun to tighten on top of his other fear and, now no longer able to breathe, he felt the need to begin his journey once more which he did the following day with a bag now filled with food, coin, and water. He waved the whole time to the two of them until he disappeared over a large sand dune.

He walked for several more days. Quickly, as before, his food and water ran out but he was in luck as he came upon an oasis- a real one and not a mirage as the desert was sometimes funny to do. He stumbled into the grassy shade with a deep sigh. Stooping by the water’s edge, he gulped down mouth fulls of water before filling his skin once more. A rustle caught his attention. He turned, squinting into the darkness as he looked for a source of the noise, reaching for a rock at his side to defend against whatever wild animal it may be. The noise stopped. A couple of men appeared a second later, hands raised.

“Easy boy,” the largest one spoke, “We don’t mean you any harm.” Atem eyed him. He lowered the rock. The man pointed overhead. “We’ve come to stop here for the evening before heading on to Abydos in the morning. Why don’t we camp together? My friend and I have enough food for three.” Atem’s stomach rumbled at the news. He agreed.

The night time found him sitting around the fire with these two men, sharing stories of adventure and fun, and enjoying a nice meal of cooked meat and fresh water. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. Or to wake up when he felt his bag being removed from under his head. Atem jerked up. His eyes were still blurred from sleep but he could make out one of them holding it, rummaging through it. He jumped up, “Give that back!”

“Easy boy,” the large man laughed, “We’re just getting our payment for feeding you is all!” Atem lunged forward but was met by a fist from the other man. He coughed, dropping to his knees. They laughed again. Once they had removed his coin and water skin, they threw the empty bag back to him. The leader smirked, “Don’t want you following us now. Nighty-night boy.”

The last thing he saw was a fist.

The following day, Atem woke with a groan. He scrambled to his bag as his memories came flooding back to him and his face paled when he realized that it wasn’t a dream, they really had robbed him of everything. He sighed. Staggering, he left the oasis behind. For hours he traveled. His head was pounding and his stomach twisted painfully. Death seemed to seep into his bones, and like with the jaguar, he wondered if this was truly the end

Was he going to die in the desert?

What was Heba going to think? Probably that he was such a lame hero.

By that mid-afternoon, Atem found himself staggering far worse than he had been when he left the oasis but he was at least shaded by some cliffs. He licked his lips. They were dry and painfully bleeding. He stepped forward. A wave of dizziness washed over him. He tried weakly to catch himself but couldn’t, resulting in him tumbling off the edge of a cliff, into the darkness below.

#the immortal pharaoh #ygobb2018 #atem #yugi muto #puzzleshipping #yugioh dm

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