#what would take him to snap like that? Methinks it could happen during one of their band's private tryout in his room

[sharky857]

What if Pierre was dumped into the luau soup and drowned for being a dick

But... But... Pierre is the lowest of the "bad quality food" one could ever dump in the potluck. 🙁 He would completely ruin the soup everyone worked so hard to make tasty. 😔

On the other hand... 🤔

Sam!

Sam might be perfecty capable of dunking Pierre in the soup. They may have banned him forever from dumping anything ever again in the potluck after that anchovies disaster, but nobody couldn't stop him from doing so for Abby's sake, if he ever acted fast enough ('sides, he actually gives zero 💩 about "impressing some old man everyone calls Governor").

[orsuliya]

As we can see from the above there is a wide spectrum of possible interpretations of Xiao Qi’s behaviour post-Hunt of Doom. I’ve gone through good three or four different ones myself, some of them more harsh than those sent in by my lovely Nonnies and yes, this is actually something I like to think about, sue me. And yet I stalled when faced with those particular asks; could it be that I had no answer at the ready? Actually, yes, this is exactly what I’m saying. Which is why I felt the need to re-examine some of the particularly juicy scenes related to the subject. If only to stop getting so bloody depressed about this purported change... or, alternatively, hurry up and become a veritable fountain of tears already, with all of this hemming and hawing done with once and for all.

I think we can all agree that something snapped in Xiao Qi after episode 50. Not completely, as during Hu Yao’s retelling it’s made pretty obvious there was still plenty left there to snap. And even then Xiao Qi never went full psycho, for all that he had every excuse to do so. Why, he was able to stop in his tracks and delay - or even partially abandon - his revenge when it became clear it could potentially play into the hands of some unknown, possibly hostile and probably self-serving faction. That’s more than one could reasonably expect; to be frank, when watching those last few episodes raw I got mightily confused. Because really, nobody would blame Xiao Qi for going after Zitan with actual killing intent; it may not have looked quite right even then, but it made actual sense for the character.

And oh dear, did he become ruthless! I don’t think that drama!Xiao Qi would have normally gone after witless Imperial Mooks with such utter ruthlessness when not threatened directly and certainly not because of an insult. Until he did in episode 55, that is. Without one word, like a bloody grim reaper. Not to say that he was ever loud or, gods forbid, hesitant about his killing. But neither was he this single-minded about it. There is still plenty of emotion there or rather there is plenty of emotion before - including an actual tear! - and none in the immediate aftermath of the killing.

Huh. Is it me or does this scene resemble nothing more than a burnt offering? It’s a ritual sacrifice, just look how it’s framed! Plenty of fire and smoke, sacrificial animals Mooks butchered and fired up right at the gravesite and Xiao Qi as the presiding priest entering into communion with the dead and making a solemn oath meant to ensure their peaceful rest. Well, isn’t this neat. But it’s not about the aesthetics. It’s about the way this oath is worded. Xiao Qi addresses his fallen brothers directly, which means this whole revenge business is not actually about him. It would be much, much easier if it was! The only way he enters into this equation personally at this stage is as an executioner... and as a debtor. He feels that he owes those fallen soldiers, that much is made clear. As if he wouldn’t have felt obliged to get justice for them either way! Let me tell you, they take bro code very, very seriously up there in Ningshuo.

And yet, with this oath weighing on his soul, what is Xiao Qi’s first destination? It’s not Ningshuo, where he might be able to clear up this whole supposed treason issue (and wouldn’t that be fun to see!), get resources to exact revenge or hell, even admit and undergo penance for his perceived failings, if that’s his jam. It’s not like he has any other options if he wants to get justice. Unless he’s planning to go full Dark and Toxic Avenger, which doesn’t suit him at all. And yet what is his first priority? To save his wife, of course! Which he could have done just as well with the full force of Ningshuo Army behind his back, which he could have had but for the asking. It’s not like he could have known Awu needed immediate rescuing, he’s not bloody prescient.

So, on that list of priorities Awu’s safety trumps revenge. Good to know. But it’s still before everything else, right? Yeah, no. See, there is a reason he didn’t go to Ningshuo until he had no other choice but to seek out safety for Awu and all those civilians, the Dou kids among them. It’s the same reason he doesn’t force a mutiny right at the very start and not even once he has his back pressed to the wall by a horde of wild Hulans. And why he leaves it to this men to make their own decision to follow him and even tries to talk them out of it, reminding them that officially he’s a dirty traitor and all that. So... Free choice and good reputation of living Ningshuo soldiers trump revenge, who knew. Xiao Qi, dearie, that’s not how you go on a rampage, what kind of a ruthless avenger are you? A very poor one, that’s what kind.

No, really, he’s so bad at this roaring rampage of revenge thing that I’m getting second-hand embarrassment. Because the next thing we know he’s not even framing it as revenge anymore! If you pay attention to that lovely post-coital (what, it really is!) conversation in episode 60, some things immediately jump out. Like the fact that Xiao Qi is clingy as fuck and not that eager to go anywhere outside his wife’s bed. Like the fact that he says that he needs to go as it is his duty to get to the truth. Truth! Not revenge. And it’s not like he’s framing it this way solely for Awu’s benefit as he talks to her of revenge just one episode later; truth is what is going to figure the most in his pursuit of the true culprit behind the Hunt of Doom. Truth and justice. Which is nothing like this hundredfold revenge stuff from episode 55, although revenge - normal, standard type - will still come up time to time. Could it be that this oath is Xiao Qi’s spiritus movens with truth and justice playing the role of a fig leaf preserving some resemblance of reason and legality? It’s certainly possible... if his actions supported it in any way. And they simply don’t.

Because you know what just got put onto that list of priorities above bloody revenge? Duty. Duty that all Ningshuo soldiers have towards Cheng. Zitan is sitting in his room, while his ministers run around like headless chickens. Chaos and rebellion rule supreme... so what does Xiao Qi do? He takes the scenic route to the capital, absolutely disregarding the fact that after six more months and with no advantage of surprise - hard to keep his return secret when he’s at the head of an army - the trail of this dastardly culprit could go completely cold.

So far the list of Xiao Qi priorities goes something like this:

Awu,

his living men, which includes their reputation and freedom of choice,

his duty to Cheng and its people,

truth and justice,

revenge. 

Which is pretty much what it would have looked like before episode 50, minus revenge that is. Ah, no, sorry, there is a change. There is an additional bullet point, Song Huaien. Who had gone well before truth and justice before the Hunt of Doom (remember that burnt receipt?) and now slots in right behind it. Still trumps revenge though! If he didn’t, Xiao Qi would have pressed harder during their little tete-a-tete at the end of episode 60. But no, he loses control only for the barest moment and even then it takes an implied insult to the honour of his fallen brothers in general and Best Bro in particular. Or, if that is not proof enough, he would have involved Song Huaien in his later investigation, putting pressure on him if necessary. And yet that quite noticeably doesn’t happen.

Okay, I think we’re pretty clear on this priorities thing, right? To recap, Xiao Qi’s post-episode 50 list of priorities looks like this:

Awu,

his living men, which includes their reputation and freedom of choice,

his duty to Cheng and its people,

truth and justice,

Song Huaien (currently an outsider) and his freedom of choice,

revenge.

Let’s change the subject. You are right on point, my lovely Nonnie #1, Xiao Qi hasn’t exactly changed. He just became more of himself, shedding - perhaps only temporarily - some parts, while embracing others whole-heartedly. Which hasn’t exactly gone unnoticed. And surprisingly enough I’m not talking about Awu; we shall speak of her fears in a moment. I’m speaking of Tang Jing and his strange way of reassuring Xiaohe that Dawang will be fine during their meeting with Song Huaien. DAWANG will be fine, says our faithful general, keeping a close and surprisingly wary eye on the proceedings. Why, it looks like he might be implying someone else might not be fine, that somebody being Song Huaien. Tang Jing is wrong on that count, but he had definitely noticed something off about Xiao Qi. Or maybe not off, but something that has him at the ready for possible violence, which would have been absurd before Dawang’s miraculous resurrection. Methinks someone is coming over as having no more fucks to give. Well, it’s not like Ningshuo guys disapprove! Just look at their determined little faces and upright postures (!) during the kneeling debacle in episode 61.

As for Awu... Personally I don’t think it at all strange that she questions whether Xiao Qi has changed. It would be much, much stranger if she didn’t. Her doubt is only natural as it comes right after she gets proof that Su Jin’er betrayed her in a most heinous way. And it’s not the first time she was taken by surprise like this: most of her loved ones changed in most unpleasant ways and some simply revealed their true colours. Daddy Wang, Daddy Emperor, Empress Dowager, Zitan, Potato (if one believes Helan Zhen), Xie Wanru, Zilu, Mi’er, Su Jin’er, they all turned out to be something else than she originally thought them to be and even her parents’ marriage turned out to be built on blood and penance. Turnip is not on that list as he start lying to her face only after she expresses her fear to Xiao Qi, although before she does so to Auntie Xu.

But let us look at our Dark and Toxic Avenger. He rolls up to the capital with his humongous army good six months late and does he get straight to business? Yeah, no. First he allows Awu to hold a sweet reunion with her brother, which could have damaged his cause if it ever hinged on empty posturing. It doesn’t, but still, Nonnie #1, what say you to this example of husbandly strictness? That he does not engage himself is not exactly out of character either; he does engage with those of Awu relatives he likes (so her Mom basically) and holds back with those he doesn’t (like the Screechers). He’s pretty ambivalent on Turnip, I think, especially now that he serves as Zitan’s mouthpiece.

Thank you, dear Nonnie #2 for making me pay attention to those two scenes in particular. That episode 61 conversation is something quite special and very, very telling. Let’s start from the beginning. It’s not Awu who raises the subject of Xiao Qi changing; he does it himself. She just muses on the subject in general and he immediately zeroes on it, volunteering such juicy ammo as the fact that other people think he had changed. Who are those other people, I wonder? Tang Jing? Other Ningshuo officers? Who the hell could have known Xiao Qi well enough and be close enough to have no problem with voicing such an inflammatory opinion? Must have been Tang Jing. Doesn’t really matter. What matters is that Xiao Qi is surprisingly conscious of his own behaviour. But I think it’s not exactly a new thing; I think his reluctance to take Awu with him in episode 60 was at least partially motivated by his fear that she’d see him at his worst. After all he didn’t actually confirm her theory about his probable reasoning. But back to episode 61! Xiao is also surprisingly insecure about his actions. At first I thought he was concerned solely about Awu’s perception of them, but now I’m not so sure. He’s a bit too touched and too grateful for her support - to the point of overselling her contribution, unless there were some cuts there, that is - for it to be just that.

As for that playfulness, merry Nonnie #3, there it is!

And strangely enough it’s Xiao Qi who initiates it. Awu’s comment about Princess Yuzhang needing to be brave doesn’t exactly feel like teasing. More like reassurance; I am your Princess Yuzhang hear me roar and you are not alone, you have a help-meet in me. He’s the one who turns to teasing her about her great bravery and being superior to Prince Yuzhang in this aspect. In the old days she might have been the one to put herself above him as a joke; this is weirdly reminiscent of that teasing but with Xiao Qi substituting for Awu. And even so their teasing doesn’t exactly last, they’re too clingy and scared for that. Well, Awu is scared, Xiao Qi is mainly conflicted. Although a lot less than before he got that sweet, sweet validation from his wife.

About that massacre talk... I just noticed that this talk of merciless revenge doesn’t exactly come of the blue. He says it in direct response to Awu voicing her fears. She’s afraid of even greater danger awaiting them in the future... so what does an excellent husband like Xiao Qi do? Why, he reassures his scaredy-cat wife that he already died once and this time it’s the culprit behind this whole bloody mess who’s going straight to hell, never to bother them again. Whoever he might be. I think... I think it’s Xiao Qi’s way of reassuring his wife that there is no need to be scared. “Darling, no, don’t worry about me, nothing bad is going to happen. Or rather yes, many bad things are going to happen, but to the guy who put this fear into your heart, whoever he might be”. It’s... surprisingly sweet. And not a complete miss; Awu is not exactly opposed, she just doesn’t want a bloodbath. True, he doesn’t respond to that; and how could he make such a promise when he doesn’t know if a bloodbath will be required. He doesn’t respond... but he does listen very attentively. And you know what?  There won’t be a bloodbath, not in the name of his revenge, even once there is opportunity and proof enough for it.

Also, in this particular conversation? It’s Xiao Qi looking Awu in the eye and actively seeking this contact. She’s the nervous one here, the one whose behaviour is more out of line with their pre-episode 50 baseline.

Episode 62, second oath over Hu Guanglie’s grave. This time there is no talk about any pain or humiliation paid back hundredfold; Hu Yao asks Xiao Qi to get to the truth and restore the good name of Ningshuo army. He’s visibly moved and does just that. Hu Yao as the only survivor among Xiao Qi’s subordinates present at the Hunt of Doom  holds a very unique position; she’s the living breathing representative of her fallen brethren, a conduit of their will. Truth and good name? Done. This moment may be, in fact, the reason why Xiao Qi doesn’t cut Zitan into pieces. It would exactly be all that conductive to restoring that good name. Zitan in exile after having publicly admitted his guilt is one thing, but Zitan brutally murderized in his own throne hall could potentially become a martyr. Sure, our Master of Mope is a regicide himself, but any canny politician would disregard that in order to hoist his bloody corpse as an undeniable proof that Xiao Qi needs to die as an uncontrollable beast. Add to that half a dozen wild tales of fiery jealousy over Awu, Xiao Qi’s rampant ambition, Zitan’s tragic martyrdom in name of the truth, whatever that truth might be... and lo and behold, Ningshuo guys are back to being public enemy number one. Well, not to the common people, they’re not, but to all those aristos who already break into hives at the very thought of filthy commoners deciding the fate of the Empire? Yeah.

Soon after that second oath Xiao Qi goes after Zitan... in a suspiciously bloodless, if psychologically earth-shattering way. Still leaving him an out and appealing to his conscience in a way. Which... is the worst possible approach to take with Zitan who has no conscience. That he lays into Zitan’s ministers with unprecedented ferocity is not exactly surprising. It’s not like they didn’t deserve it; even before everything there was a visible divide and even enmity between ‘them’ and ‘us’, it’s just that nobody dared to voice it in the throne room. The only thing that changed is that ‘they’ turned out to be even more useless than usual, allowing chaos and rebellion to run rampant; Xiao Qi has every right to be pissed and it’s not like he never baited the ministers with their own uselessness before. Although now that I think about it... Those two spears to the back might have done his verbal filter in.

The only thing Xiao Qi would have never done in the good old days when Hu Guanglie was still around (in corporeal form, ghosts don’t count)? He would have never threatened an Emperor with a public uprising. With Ningshuo army, however... Well, it wasn’t outright rebellion, but... No, actually. Exploding an imperial envoy absolutely was an act of open rebellion. It’s just that Xiao Qi still cared about forms enough to bow and make sure to give His Imperial Majesty the middle finger only in limited, discreet company. And even that could be attributed to the fact that he had at least some respect for both Daddy Emperor and Potato. Not much. But enough. For Zitan he has absolutely none. Had either of the previous incumbents fucked up to this extent, it could have gone pretty much the same. There must have been lots of dead and starving women and children on the way from Ningshuo to the capital.

Episode 63, family outing. They’re both optimistic enough, exactly as befits new parents. And then Xiao Qi recalls their old dream of living in peace; he does this with certain wistfulness, but the dream itself is something that kept coming up this whole time, so it’s nothing out of ordinary. And then Awu tries to get him to take a break. She doesn’t ask him to abandon his revenge. She wants to put all the current issues off and just... go. He quite understandably dismisses this idea. It’s not that he’s dismissive towards her concerns. It’s that she doesn’t actually voice any valid concerns here! I have no idea what this is even supposed to be. It’s not a demand nor a sensible request. It’s nothing he would be inclined to take on his merits. Is it mean to be a very clumsy attempt at emotional manipulation? After if fails, it becomes rather obvious that it was a long stretch to begin with, one that she felt obliged to make anyway with little to no actual hope of succeeding. And I even get why, but...

Come out and say what you mean, Awu. You can’t have you revenge for this, this and that reason, not without making things worse, just stop. She’s wishy-washy. Put off. Put off his investigation, leaving behind a potential enemy who thinks nothing of murdering people and has a hard-on for Awu? That’s not only stupid, that’s actively suicidal. Put off his all the current issues? Like keeping Cheng in one piece and not letting it slide back into civil war? Zitan isn’t magically going to get better at ruling, you know. None of the reasons for the initial chaos have been removed, well, maybe except a few rebellious heads. This plead, half-serious as it is, is insane. He’d have to be insane to agree to that. And he knows that she knows that. “Sure, honey. Once I deal with my enemies, we’ll go”. Is he humoring her? Perhaps, but I don’t think so. He takes a moment to think before answering. “We will do things your way once things are safe for us to do so“. Because you know what? Dealing with his enemies solves pretty much every other outstanding problem in one swoop. No, it really does. Including public discontent and world hunger. I’m not joking about the latter, by the way, remember that final voiceover?

I am sounding snappish, I think. It’s not that I’m judging Awu, even if it might seem so. I get where she’s coming from and I don’t dismiss her very real fears... but this is not the way to express those. She can do better. She has done better in the past. She’s traumatized as fuck, conflicted about her own role, afraid for their dream, fine. But it’s hard to blame Xiao Wi for reacting like a reasonable human being either, especially when her behaviour should be giving him pretty serious whiplash. One moment she stands with him and supports him in action, the next she offers him reassurance and voices her pretty reasonable condition... and the next she tries to half-heartedly propose something as totally bonkers as taking a break, leaving the realm in utter chaos. He’s not so stupid as not to know that something is up. So acting suspicious? It’s not actually unreasonable. And unlike most MLs would do, he doesn’t accuse her of supporting his enemies, not ever. He’s just concerned, if in a rather brusque way.

In fact, I’d say he’s surprisingly calm when Awu implies he’s raising their kid in a culture of hate in episode 64. He simply reminds the that Xiaohe has witnessed the massacre himself, so his reaction is genuine. And, as I personally think, not a half-bad way of dealing with trauma, very constructive. It’s not like the kid wants to go and shank Zitan himself; he’s talking about becoming a great general and then perhaps taking revenge. And, quite noticeably, Xiao Qi doesn’t say a word to this announcement. And yet the most he allows himself in response to Awu’s not very nice implication is a very matter-of-fact explanation with perhaps the slightest hint of defensiveness and no personal attacks. Now, this turning away from her is... concerning to say the least, so I understand your feelings on the subject, dear Nonnie #2. But.... is it all that bad? Let’s see.

He does turn away and responds only when she calls his name twice. And even then there is something nearly... insulting about his demeanour. He’s tired, that’s for sure. And perhaps dismissive. But notice that this deadpan tone lasts only as long as Awu keeps dancing around the subject, throwing up wild theories, even as they both pretty much know what the truth is. And even then he’s paying full close attention to her unusual behaviour, certainly enough to suss out something must have happened... and immediately offer his support. Which works! Or would have worked if not for bloody Auntie Xu. Or not bloody, at least not yet (please, Daddy Wang, hurry up!).

So let’s recap:

Awu implies that Xiao Qi is raising Xiao Qi in a culture of hate - to which he responds with facts and nothing but.

She uses this to gain momentum for another attempt at clumsy emotional manipulation (which she’s much better at usually) - he turns away very rudely as he finds this beneath both of their dignities and he’s not exactly wrong, is he?

She throws up a truly absurd candidature of Prime Minister Wen as the actual culprit, very blatantly playing up her wifely concern and fear - he dismisses it immediately, not even pretending he hadn’t seen through her ploy.

Then she tries to use her own brother to make him admit that there are limits to his revenge - and he gives her a warning glance.

After which he reiterates his stance and disengages. Which, fair. His previously supportive wife is playing stupid games and lying to him. He knows she’s smarter than that. If she had a theory about PM Wen or Turnip, that would be one thing. But she’s jumping. This is going somewhere. And it’s not exactly hard to guess where. Also, trying to hit the family button, even so subtly? After all they went through and after she already used it once during Screechergate, if in a much more brutal manner? And after she assured him that he was the most important person to her before they even left Ningshuo? Yeah, that’s not good.

And even then he doesn’t get offended enough for it to overcome his concern. Oh, he might have acted disinterested, but he’s been paying attention alright. And he starts the conversation again, asking her outright what is wrong. Because something obviously is. And she lies. Again. He calls her out on it very succinctly and without assigning any blame. “That’s not true”, he says and asks again what has happened. “Your heart is uneasy. Tell me. You don’t have to carry this burden alone”.

That’s more than reasonable. He gives her more that one chance of coming clean and puts her well-being above any possible offence or hurt of his own. “You don’t have to carry this burden alone”, dammit. That’s not exactly dismissive. All the same I do understand why this conversation might trip people up. It’s all about the tone. They’re not tender with each other - well, Awu tries for gentle concern, but she’s lying, even if that concern is real enough. He’s brusque enough for two. But you know what I think? I think this was the worst possible place to have this conversation. Bad, bad choice on Awu’s part. To one side they have a wall of maids including Auntie Xu the Blabber, even as the issue they’re discussing is of national importance and spies don’t sleep. To the other there are two kids. Little pitchers have big ears, you know. And besides, they’re talking about the true source of the kids’ trauma, something that Xiaohe is only starting to process. This is so awkward and so perfect at the same time! You see, there is something very telling about their voices. They’re quiet. So quiet that Auntie Xu, trying for a surreptitious whisper, speaks at pretty much the same volume.

Yeah, okay, Xiao Qi could have played it differently. They both could have. But his reactions are not really anything out of the norm, even if somewhat more human than usual. He’s so bloody tired and even their home - as you’ve pointed out so astutely, Nonnie #3 - is no sanctuary anymore.

After that they presumably go about their business and don’t really resolve anything until the evening. See, Awu really wants to say something when she sees Xiao Qi enter her rooms. An apology, perhaps? Perhaps not. He doesn’t let her either way, only offers to go with her. Okay. So they had that tense conversation and thanks to Auntie Xu the only chance of Awu coming clean went bust. He still comes to offer his support the moment he hears she’s in distress. That’s how very much he’s not holding a grudge. And he reaches for her first!

Whatever happened, it doesn’t matter more than your pain. It never will.

Ah, Mother’s Funeral 2.0 combined with Unpleasant Truth About A Wang Male 2.0, the latter offered after an even weaker token protest than last time. No change of behaviour there! And again, he lets her go and deal with her family on her own terms.

Then we get plotting scene, which was sadly hacked to pieces and we don’t even get to see Awu reveal the truth about Zitan. But from there on they act as one. No more of this emotional blackmail bullshit, no more dismissal, there’s a crisis and they’re a unit. And guess what, revenge just got shelved!

Or no, not shelved. Exchanged for truth and justice. Because even if Xiao Qi’s coup is fake as hell, he still reveals Zitan for the monster that he is. What I don’t understand is why does nobody really care about Zitan murdering Potato, but okay. Either Potato lives don’t matter or they need time to actually make a viable plan how to deal with this rotten kinder surprise. Or, and that’s probably accurate in any case, they need time to come out of shock. I feel you, guys, I would be pretty shocked too. The Yuzhang Acting Company can have this effect on unprepared viewers.

As for the Yuzhang Acting Company and Xiao Qi’s acting abilities... you pretty much know already what I think. And if you don’t, you can read about it here and here. Mark my words, Awu is the tougher cookie of the pair, while Xiao Qi is practically falling to pieces at particularly difficult moments. Then he comes back, actively seeks her support upon being confronted with the source of the greater part of his anguish (the throne, not Zitan) and they go live happily even after in Ningshuo with a whole horde of kids. The end.

Well, that exercise, as amusing as it might have been, proved only one thing. Either I’m blind or I had fallen victim to the Mandela Effect, because I swear Awu was the more clingy one of the two the last time I looked. And it is really not so. As to whether he changed... They both did? Hopefully it’s nothing that a few months of living in Ningshuo won’t cure; you will tear my headcanonny teasy-cheesy old married couple from my cold, dead hands! Even so, it’s not as drastic as all that; they are both fundamentally themselves, only stripped down to bare elements and at the same time burdened with unbearable trauma. Okay, that’s it, we’re done, bye.

Or not bye. Because what about that revenge? Well... I’m pretty sure that Hu Guanglie’s ghost will be pretty satisfied with truth, justice and a golden opportunity to torment Zitan to death in the ruins of the Imperial Mausoleum? Oh, and he also got a nation-wide mourning ceremony. Yeah, he’s happy enough.

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Z 270

Hey, do you like Vegito?   Well now he’s Super Vegito.   Buu tries to handwave this by pointing out that he absorbed three Saiyans, while Vegito only consists of two, but the Potara earrings are far superior to Buu’s absorption dealie.   

Oh, by the way, this is a Yukio Ebisawa episode, if this extra-triangle-y screencap didn’t make that clear.

Buu tries to intimidate Vegito, but come on.  

He seems to get in a few good hits, but Vegito is clearly toying with him at this point.  

After shrugging off Buu’s offense, he says he’s disappointed with Buu, and shows him how to really hurt someone, using the Big Bang Attack.

Buu tries to no-sell it, but methinks he doth protest too much.  

Then he tries to make a big cloud of steam to conceal his movements, which might have worked back in the Tien Saga, but come on, dude.

Yeah, Vegito can hit him at will, even if he can’t see him.  

Then he flings him down to the ground.

On the Supreme Kai Planet, Kibitoshin is amazed by how powerful Vegito is, but the Elder Kai isn’t surprised at all, since Goku and Vegeta were already so impressive separately.    And the fact that they’re rivals apparently amplifies the fusion even more.   

Then Vegito spears Buu with a beam of ki.   It’s kind of weird how this is Vegito’s finisher in most of the video games, but we’ve still got two more episodes of this fight.   I suppose this is his most memorable technique, but he doesn’t actually do a whole lot with it.   

Meanwhile, on the Grand Kai Planet, Krillin is observing the Vegito/Buu fight via King Kai’s telepathy.    Seems that King Kai arranged for Krillin and Yamcha to keep their bodies when they died, just as a precaution in case Goku, Vegeta, and Gohan failed.

Krillin doesn’t see how he and Yamcha would have done much good if Goku and Vegeta failed, but now that Vegito is kicking so much ass, it looks like it won’t matter.    This worries Krillin for a moment, because he thinks this means he won’t get to keep his body, but King Kai assures him that he’ll set things up with the Grand Kai.   After all, Krillin and Yamcha have helped defend the Earth just like Goku, so that’s gotta count for something.   

I always found it odd how Krillin and Yamcha were considered the last line of defense after all the Saiyans, but I guess there’s no one else in the main cast to consider.    Tien and Chiaotzu are still alive and still on Earth, so they’re technically still in this thing, and Piccolo got absorbed by Buu, so these were the only two Z-Fighters King Kai could set aside.  

While Krillin is talking to King Kai, Yamcha’s busy fighting Oliboo and that winged gorilla dude at the same time.   

Ironically, this place has Yamcha fired up, even though he was pretty lax about training while he was alive.    I feel like Oliboo ought to be a lot stronger than Yamcha, but oh well.  

I’d like to think this reawakening of Yamcha’s fighting spirit carried on after he was resurrected by the Dragon Balls.   Dragon Ball GT and Dragon Ball Super don’t exactly follow up on this, one way or the other, which irritates me greatly, because what was the point of doing a DBZ sequel if they aren’t going to pick up on things like this?   

Back on Earth, Vegito scolds Buu for being a dull opponent, and not taking this fight seriously.   Then he considers that maybe this was the best Buu could do, and apologizes for making light of his efforts.

So Buu gets really pissed and pulls himself loose from Vegito’s beam.    I’m not sure why he couldn’t have done that all along, but maybe Buu’s gotten tired from all this fighting and it costs him some power to have to keep reassembling himself like this.  

Either way, this gets Buu upset, so he repeats a move he used to kill Smitty way back in Episode 255.   He forces himself down Vegito’s throat...

And thus we have CHUNGUS VEGITO.   

Buu gloats that he can destroy Vegito from the inside out now, and there’s nothing Vegito can do about it.    I mean, it seems to me that the mere fact that they’re still having this conversation suggests that this won’t be as effective as it was on Smitty.    I’m pretty sure Smitty died before Buu even finished stuffing himself inside Smitty’s body.   

Vegito pauses for a moment, as though considering the problem, which is kind of humorous in itself.   

Then he yells really loud and charges up his ki, which is kind of how everyone solves problems on this show.

But it works!   He’s back to normal, save for a huge bulge on his back...

... which migrates over to his shoulder...

And Vegito punches it, forcing the swelling to move to a different part of his body.

Vegito explains that he’s used his own ki to constrain Buu within his body, so there’s no way he can move freely.   Basically, he’s at Vegito’s mercy like this.

So Buu has no choice but to leave the same way he came in.   

Once again, Vegito expresses disappointment in Buu as an opponent, and that gets him riled up again.

So now it’s Buu’s turn to start screaming until something happens.   He also does the anime thing where you clench your fist so hard that blood comes out.  

Vegito isn’t even remotely worried by this.

But Dende is.   As he explains to Mr. Satan, this is a lot like how Buu escaped the Hyperbolic Time Chamber several episodes back, only this time, Buu is causing spatial distortions on Earth, breaking down the barriers to other dimensions.   It’s probably not good for the environment, is Dende’s point, although it’s unclear exactly what would happen if this keeps up.

At last, Vegito seems to pick up on what Dende is worried about, and he decides to stop Buu before it gets too far out of hand.

This is probably the most effort Vegito puts in during the entire fight.   He has to really push hard to get close enough to Buu...

And then he decks the bastard, which seems to snap him out of his tantrum.

Even Buu seems confused over what he just did a minute ago.  

Vegito was hoping he would use that kind of power to hit him, not mess with dimensional barriers or whatever.

Back on the Supreme Kai Planet, the Kais are relieved that Vegito defused that situation, but now the Old Kai is losing his patience.    By now, it’s become clear that Vegito has the advantage, so why isn’t he finishing Buu off?   What’s he waiting for?    What indeed?

[what-even-is-thiss]

I see... people (ghost au)

Quick thingy before we start. I don’t write ghosts in the way they’re normally written. So, don’t go in with any normal expectations. Also, I tried my very best to write an autistic character here and I do not have autism so if I have made a major mistake I apologize.

Tip Jar

Warnings: Death and injury mention. Swearing. 9,675 words.

Abstract: Patton can see things that other people can’t.

Patton jumped into the car and threw his little mickey mouse backpack onto the floor.

“Woah, buddy. What have we talked about?”

“Sorry Virgil.” Patton said, picking up his bag and gently placing it on the seat.

“That’s better.” Virgil said.

The head in the passengers seat turned around and its owner reached onto the seat next to him and picked up a juice bag that he handed back to the five year old sitting in the back seat.

“You need help?” Virgil asked.

Patton punched the straw in, even remembering to put his thumb over it this time.

“Guess not.” Virgil said, turning himself back around and starting the car.

They started driving. Patton sucked on the juice bag.

“You’re being kinda quiet. What happened at school today?” Virgil said.

As he adjusted the mirror Patton caught a glimpse of his uncle’s eye makeup.

“My teacher thought your face was weird.” Patton said.

“Ah.” Virgil said. “What was it? The snake bites? Purple hair? Eyeliner? My big nose?”

“Your nose is not big!” Patton insisted.

Virgil chuckled. “I know, I just like to throw something else in there.”

“He said you’re too old to be dressing like that.” Patton said.

“Kid, punk isn’t dead and neither is emo. If your teacher can’t keep up I dunno what to tell him.” Virgil said.

“Dad says he likes your tattoo but he wishes you’d lighten up a bit.” Patton said.

Virgil had to restrain himself from slamming on the breaks. He took a deep breath instead.

“Buddy, you know that...”

“He’s not dead!” Patton screamed.

Virgil pulled over to the side of the road and put on the parking break. He leaned on the steering wheel.

“Verge?” Patton asked uncertainly.

“You’re not in trouble, buddy. Uncle Virgil just has to take a second. Just play the quiet game for a minute, okay?”

Patton started counting quietly. “One, two, three, four, five...”

Virgil smirked. Patton was probably trying to count to sixty.

“Forty nine, sixty!”

“Fifty comes after forty, buddy.” Virgil said. “No problem. I’m better now.”

They started driving again and Patton started talking about his new friend he’d met on the playground that day.

When they reached the little apartment complex where the two of them lived Virgil carried Patton’s bag up the concrete and metal steps and he handed his key with the batman ring on it to the little boy, who tried for two full minutes to use the key before handing it grumpily back to his uncle.

Just like every other day Virgil smirked and took the key from him before opening the door to their two bedroom apartment and handing the kid his backpack.

“Homework.” Virgil said.

Patton waved to the corner of the room.

“Hi, dad!” he said, before walking over to the little dining table in the kitchen and opening his homework.

Virgil sighed. Maybe he should just let the kid have his fun. He went into his bedroom to start working on a new comic.

Patton finished his homework and then carefully and neatly put all of his stuff into the little Power Rangers folder that Virgil had bought him for his last birthday. He pondered in his little mind what to do next. He looked in the corner and then beamed and ran over.

“You’re still here!” he said, running over.

A tall man with broad shoulders in a white t-shirt and torn red jacket sat in the corner on the arm of the couch beaming. His jeans were torn as well, but not in a tasteful way. The bottom of them had been scraped and burned half away and the once polished shoes he was wearing had burn marks all over them.

“Hello!” he exclaimed in a big voice. “All done?”

“Yeah! Oh, Oh, can I show you something?” Patton said, bouncing up and down.

“You know you always can, but be quiet. Your uncle must be in there working on his grown up comics.”

“They’re nice comics!” Patton said in defense of Virgil.

“How would you know? You’re not old enough to read them yet. Too much death, methinks.”

The man playfully made as if to poke Patton in the nose but his finger went right through the young boy’s face. Patton wrinkled his nose as if he suddenly had to hold back a sneeze.

“Hey!” he said. “That feels funny!”

“Come on, what did you want to show me?”

Patton ran into his bedroom and the man followed him, phasing through the door as he walked from the dark decorations and Tim Burton type aesthetic of Virgil’s living room and kitchen into the little five year old’s room painted light blue and full to the gills with stuffed animals and toy cars and discarded papers.

Patton picked up one of these discarded papers and went to hand it to him.

“Daddy can’t hold things, remember? Can you show it to me?”

Patton held up the paper. There was a little childish drawing of stick figures. Two big ones and one small one. One of the big ones had snake bites drawn by the mouth and the other had a crown on it. The little one was drawn in blue.

“That’s me, and that’s uncle Virgil, and that’s you, dad!”

“Patton, are you done with your homework?” Virgil called from the other room.

“Yes, Virgil!” Patton called.

Virgil stepped into the room, his usual jacket off and his makeup removed. His Evanescence t-shirt now quite visible and his combat boots probably discarded somewhere in the hallway or in his room.

“Who are you talking to?” Virgil asked.

“I’m talking to dad. I wanted him to see this.”

Patton jumped one, two, three times forward and then showed Virgil the drawing. He explained it to Virgil the same way he had to his dad. Virgil took the drawing and studied it. Patton eagerly flapped his hands in anticipation of his uncle’s response.

Virgil knelt down. He sighed and sat cross-legged on his nephew’s bedroom floor.

“Patton, I know you want your dad to be here, but he’s gone. There was a car crash. And a fire. It was so bad they couldn’t find even a piece of him afterwards.”

Virgil gently adjusted Patton’s little glasses and started playing with his hair.

“Roman was my big brother. It’s really hard for me too. I wish he was here, even if he did annoy me a bit.”

“A bit?” Roman scoffed. “You threw a chair at me one time for stealing your pencil eraser.”

“What?” Patton said. “Virgil, you threw a chair at dad for stealing your pencil? That’s mean!”

“Who told you that?” Virgil said.

“Dad.” Patton said, pointing to the bed.

Virgil looked amazed as Patton seemed to be paying very close attention to the bed and what it had to say.

“Uh. dad says, uh, to prove it to you, I should say that you uh, that um, what? Oh, that you peed your pants during the what? Mon-o-logue? Monologue unit in high school theater.”

Virgil was in such shock that he barely registered the little pokes and the little voice saying “Hey, hey, Uncle Verge, what’s a monologue?”

“So you see dead people?” Logan asked, making another mark on the graph paper.

Patton stared blankly at the 8th grade state testing standards sheet.

“Hey do you wanna get pizza later?” Patton said.

“You’re avoiding the question.” Logan said.

“I forgot the question.” Patton admitted.

“Do you see dead people?” Logan asked pointedly.

“I see ghosts, not dead people, Logan.” Patton laughed.

“Wait wait wait wait” Logan said, momentarily stopping his drawing of a curve, “Aren’t ghosts dead people? Are you telling me ghosts are alive? I don’t believe you.”

“No, they’re not alive, silly.” Patton said.

Logan looked over at the bookshelves in the school library and at the motivational educational posters on the walls. He could read. This wasn’t a dream.

“Okay then, what?” Logan said. “If they’re not alive or dead, then what are they?”

“They’re ghosts!” Patton said.

“Explain.” Logan said.

“See sometimes people should die, but instead they fall into another level of reality.” Patton said.

“So like another dimension?” Logan asked.

“No, like the world is like cake. Or like pancakes. OR like a double layer pizza, or...”

Logan snapped his finger in his friend’s face. “You’re off topic again. Did you remember to take your meds today?”

“I dunno. Virgil says I’m old enough to remember to take them myself now but sometimes I forget. I don’t like to think about it.”

“Okay, what were you saying? About the reality thing?”

Patton took out a piece of scrap paper and drew three lines on it all parallel to each other. He put a little dot on the top one and rocked back and forth a bit in his chair as he explained.

“This is where we are.”

He put a little circle on the bottom one.

“If you fall in here you’re a ghost.”

He put a little squiggle along the middle one.

“And this is what you fall through. I think that one has something to do with physics. I can see through it.”

“This is all very difficult to believe.” Logan said.

Patton seemed to think for a minute, studying Logan unusually carefully.

“Do you wanna see?” He asked finally.

“You mean you can prove it to me?” Logan said.

“Only if you’ll come for a sleepover at my apartment.”

“Is this a scheme to get me to finally come over to your house?” Logan sighed.

Patton smiled mischievously. “Mayybe. But it has to be this Friday.”

“The night of the blue moon?” Logan said. “But my mom...”

“This Friday.” Patton said. “Pleeease?”

“Oh, all right. I’ll talk her into it.”

Patton went back to his homework but didn’t stop happily bouncing for at least ten minutes.

That Friday after school Logan stepped into his friend’s small apartment for the first time.

“Why does it look like Halloween in here?” he asked.

“Because that’s how I like it.” came a deep voice.

Logan jumped slightly. There was a man who must’ve been in his early to mid thirties wearing all black and purple. His hair was purple, his piercings were black, his eye makeup was really black. His jacket was partially purple. His nails were somehow the darkest shade of black Logan had ever seen. The intricate lightning shaped tattoo visible where he’d rolled up his sleeves seemed really ominous.

Patton, wearing the school’s uniform  polo shirt in the lightest shade of blue it came in ran forward and gave the ominous looking man a hug.

“This is Virgil!” Patton said.

“That’s Virgil? The paranoid one you’re always talking about?” Logan sputtered.

“Hey.” Virgil said, giving a two-fingered salute.

Patton suddenly looked angrily at the couch.

“Dad! Why?” Patton said, seeming distressed. “That wasn’t very nice... No, I don’t wanna talk about it... Aren’t you the grown-up here?”

“I think if anyone’s the adult here it’s you, unfortunately.” Virgil said. “I dunno what he said but I’m sure it was rude. You morons get settled. I’m cooking dinner.”

“Virgil!” Paton exclaimed.

“I’m kidding, jeez.” Virgil laughed before heading to the kitchen part of the main room.”

“You didn’t know he was kidding?” Logan asked.

“Nope. That’s why he tells me when he’s kitten.” Patton said.

“You mean kidding.” Logan said.

“Nope!” Patton said, before running off towards a little mew noise.

A tiny black cat came running into the room, ready for dinner. Logan tensed up a bit when he saw it.

“Oh, of course. A black cat to finish the aesthetic.” Logan said.

“Put your bag down, kid. The decor doesn’t bite and neither does Sally the cat usually. Roman can’t bite because he can’t touch anything.” Virgil said from the kitchen.

“Dad says he’s... what? Offended by your... audacity?” Patton said, giggling. “That’s a fun word.”

Patton scratched the kitten as she ate and told her “And you have the awwwwwdacity of being so cute! Hey Logan, wanna meet her?”

Logan did want to meet the cat, actually, so he finally put down his backpack, overstuffed with schoolwork and clothes and medication and a toothbrush, and went over to humor Patton and the cat.

Patton seemed to keep saying things to someone that wasn’t there. In short, fun sentences like Patton always tended to use.

“I take it your father is here?” Logan whispered as Sally the kitten climbed around on Patton’s polo shirt.

Patton nodded and didn’t seem to notice much of what Logan was saying. He was too focused on the cat.

Dinner started at 7:30 exactly. Virgil had made macaroni and cheese and cauliflower.

Roman sat at the empty chair Patton had pulled out for him. He took his red jacket off and tied it around his waist. Didn’t want to lose that. Not like he’d lost everything else. He could smell the food, that’s what hurt. He kept smiling, knowing that if he did Patton would assume he was alright.

Virgil was better at reading faces though, and he didn’t know about the kid. No, just stay a little longer. Put up with it.

“That cheese smells divine. Is it?” Roman asked.

Patton nodded excidedly.

“Gone a bit quiet, have you?” Roman chuckled.

Patton nodded again.

“Too stressed and happy with all the unusual happenings, my prince?”

Patton nodded again.

“Well, that’s alright.” Roman chuckled comfortingly.

“So when does something happen?” Logan asked once the dishes were clear.

“Patton said something would happen around when the moon rises.” Virgil said, looking at Patton, who was humming and rocking on the balls of his feet, clearly daydreaming.

“Mr. Sanders, is he always like this?” Logan asked.

“Well that’s a question to ask while he’s still in the room.” Virgil said, giving the kid a look.

“He doesn’t mind. He lets me talk about him. I specifically asked for his consent on that before we came here.” Logan said.

“You’re a weird kid. I can see why he likes you so much.” Virgil said. “And yes, these piercings are real. You don’t have to keep wondering about that.”

Logan started. “But how did you...”

Virgil popped a towel and Logan jumped. The sudden action also scared Patton out of his daydream and then Virgil let out a deep chuckle.

“Gotta keep you boys on your toes. Be vigilant! Anything could happen at any time. Like popping a towel!”

He popped the towel again and the boys jumped again.

“For the love of Sondheim, what does he do when I’m gone, Patton? What a pernicious petty punk my precious preemie brother turned out to be. I am amazed every time I stop by.” Roman said.

“Did you hear an echo?” Logan said.

Virgil suddenly wrapped the kitchen towel tightly around his right hand, leaving his dominant one free. He held the wrapped hand to his chest like it would protect him as he slowly turned around.

“Oh. You heard that.” The see-through version of his brother said sheepishly.

“Nine years now.” Virgil said, keeping his distance.

“Happy anniversary to me.” Roman said in an empty tone.

“Nine years.” Virgil said.

“Yes, pop angst. Stop reminding me. I’ve been legally dead. You don’t have to remind me!” Roman said, knowing he would cry if he could.

“Nine years I raise your kid, I pay for your funeral and half of your friend’s, I fight tooth and nail to keep my publisher and feed your kid, I lie to our parents and work through disease after disease, comfort a child while I’m the one having a panic attack and the first thing I hear out of your goddamn mouth about me after nine fucking years of raising your kid like he was mine and dealing with you and a butt ton of other ghosts Patton attracts on top of every other damn thing is another insult? Are we twelve? Do you have an issue with how I’m raising Patton? I’m here, asshole. You knew I’d be able to see you tonight. You knew. Does mommy’s little prince have anything to say to me?”

Logan and Patton stood staring, mouths agape. Logan for the obvious reasons of a real ghost and being in a friend’s family drama, and Patton because he had just heard several sounds come out of his uncle’s mouth that he thought he was incapable of making.

A moment of silence passed with Roman under Virgil’s death glare. Then another. Then a third. Then Roman let out a slight chuckle.

“Oh, I always was way out of line wasn’t I?” he said. “You went and grew up, and I stayed a twenty eight year old fool.”

“Thirty seven year old fool now.” Virgil said, stepping closer but not unwrapping the towel.

“Nothing changes in here.” Roman said looking around. “It is more frustrating then your ageing apple can comprehend.”

He was close enough to Virgil now that he could poke his head and so he did. The finger went right through and Virgil stepped back.

“Ew.” he said. “Why does it feel like that?”

“I don’t know, but I’ve found it’s an easy way to annoy you when I’m here.”

“How long are you visible to us?” Virgil asked.

“Sunrise, probably. But everything is strange.” Roman said.

“Well, Patton?” Virgil said.

“Y-” Patton swallowed. “Yes, Virgil?”

“Do you think you can handle staying up late?”

“I don’t want to Virgil. Thank you so much for saying I can though. It’s bedtime soon. Can Logan stay up late?”

“I... I don’t think I want to stay up late either.” Logan said. “ I want to... work on homework before breakfast.”

It’s almost bedtime! Night nights!” Patton said. “Come on, Logan.”

“Wait just a minute, my little minion.” Roman said.

“What?” said Patton.

Roman walked up to his son and smiled. “You’re really special, Patton. You understand this, don’t you?”

“I’m no more special than anyone else, dad.” Patton said.

Roman looked at his hand and then smiled in that way that only an actor could.

“No, you’re a special person and tonight is a special night.” Roman said. “A night I’ve been dreaming about for nine years and I dreamed about before you were born.”

The ghost grabbed Patton by the shoulder and then pulled him into a hug. Patton knew this was huge but he didn’t stop to think about that. He leaned in and started crying softly. It was cold, by God was it cold, but it was undoubtedly real too. He leaned into Roman’s shoulder, knowing he’d probably never feel this again.

“I love you so  much, dad.” Patton said through tears.

“And I feel a deep affection for you as well.” Roman said.

“Hey!” Patton said.

“That is such a me move. How dare you.” Virgil said, a reluctant smile poking at the corners of his mouth.

Roman gripped his son’s shoulder. “I love you too. Now off to bed.”

Patton dragged Logan, who had been feeling more and more awkward by the second, into his room, and scooped up Sally the kitten along the way.

“He’s turning out to be a strange person, our Patton.” Roman said.

“Well, duh. He’s yours, and that actress friend you chose to carry him was pretty weird too.” Virgil said. “You know she ended up robbing a costume store like a month after your ‘death’?”

“No, I didn’t know. It’s difficult to stay in one place for long so I get most of my news from my visits with Patton and any other person with the sight I can find. They’re usually scared types that are used to being called crazy though so, like a worse, less emo version of you. Except for when they are emo.” Roman said.

“How did you just touch him, by the way?” Verge asked. “I can’t touch you. Isn’ there some strange psychic weirdness keeping you from interacting with anything?”

“I got a blue moon on the anniversary of my ‘death’ so the barier weakened just a little. That’s why you, who has never seen a ghost before, saw me. And like I said, Patton is special. He could already see me, so the next natural step was something more real. And of course he choose to go to bed still.”

“Well, that’s Patton for you. Something big happens and then he’s right onto the next thing. Memory worse than a goldfish. Sit down if ghosts can do that. We have nine years of catching up to do before sunrise.” Virgil said.

“I’d suggest wine, but I can’t exactly eat or drink.” Roman said.

“How about I drink Gatorade or iced coffee out of a wine glass and you look on with envy while we chat?” Virgil said.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Logan admitted the sound of a cat purring was quite soothing, and so was the shade of light blue that Patton’s walls were painted.

“See? I told ya.” Patton said, scratching behind Sally’s ears.

“How are you so casual about ghosts? And... why did you wait so long to tell me?” Logan asked, not taking his eyes off of the cat in his lap.

Patton smiled. “Because we’re best friends now.”

“How does that make such a big difference?” Logan asked.

Patton sat for a moment, seemingly looking for the right words. Sometimes the right words just came to him, sometimes it took the words a minute, some times when he was overwhelmed like when his day got messed with or a firetruck went past or a spider appeared the words went away altogether and all he was left with were feelings. Patton thought with his feelings and had to translate that into English. How did it make a big difference? How to explain that?

“I think honesty is great.” said Patton finally. “But too much truth too soon isn’t good. That’s what Virgil told me. No lies, but don’t tell everybody you can see ghosts. I know why now. They don’t believe me even though I do and ghosts like me and they’re all usually really nice people. I love them a lot, but not everybody does. Does that make sense? Was it too much?”

“No, I think you got it just right, Patton. Thank you for explaining. I know it’s hard for you sometimes.” Logan said.

“You talk like a teacher. That’s why I like you, Logan.” Patton said, smiling and resting his chin on two fists.

“Well I’m glad someone likes it.” Logan said.

“Sally likes it.” Patton said, giving the kitten on Logan’s lap a little nudge.

The young cat purred harder. Logan almost let a smile crack.

“Faster! This way! Faster, he’s in trouble!” called out the ghost.

Patton felt like his lungs were gong to burst. He held his cardigan in his hand as he ran. He now had a scrape on one arm from when he removed the cardigan and scraped his arm on a passing branch. The ghost running in front of him looked like he used to be important in the Victorian era or something. He was stuck being in his late twenties just like Patton’s father, He had a large burn mark covering the left side of his face. Patton wondered where exactly this man had fallen into the third layer. Somewhere fun, he hoped, but it was impossible to tell if he was from Britain or North America. Completely impossible.

“The little girl is just this way!” the ghost called.

He had said there was a little girl stuck under a log. Patton, with his tendency for extreme empathy and sixteen year old recklessness had followed the strange man but now that he’s been running for several minutes he wasn’t so sure anymore. Who was this man?

“This way! We’re almost there, young seer!” the ghost called.

Before Patton could register what was happening he tripped and fell.

And fell.

And kept falling

And tumbling downward.

He rolled down a hill, down a little ravine and landed in a tiny creek. The shimmering figure of the ghost could be heard laughing deeply almost like a cartoon villain from above. He was tall and brown haired and had a bowler hat. That’s all Patton took note of before he left.

Too many feelings, no.

“You’re too old to throw a tantrum. You’re too old to throw a tantrum.” Patton repeated over and over again.

He felt the scrapes on his body and the dirt on his legs and the tag of his shirt and his favorite cardigan lying beside him and his glasses crooked and broken sitting on his face. He heard the frogs in the distance and the cars in the distance and he swore he could hear his own fast beating heart but most of all he felt. Betrayal by a stranger. Loss for his glasses and not knowing where he was.

“You’re too old to throw a tantrum. You’re too old to throw a tantrum.” Patton repeated as the movement of the wind became too much.

He started crying and pulling on his hair.

“Too old to throw a tantrum! Too old to throw a tantrum!” He screamed.

That devolved into just normal screaming and crying.

Virgil paced the floor as he listened to the dial tone on the other end. When the inevitable “Hello” came he jumped.

“UH, hi Mrs. Thomas. This is Virgil Sanders, Patton’s guardian. You know Patton?... Yes, he is friends with your Logan. Mrs... Yes I... Was he at your house any time this afternoon?... He wasn’t at the park and he hates breaking routine unless your Logan talks him into it so I thought... Well no, he didn’t want to have that looked at and I respected his wishes. This is off topic... Look, do you have information about my child or not?... Yes, thank you. Tell Logan to text me if any of their friends knows something. He has my number for emergencies still... Thank you, Mrs. Thomas.”

Verge fell to his knees as soon as he pressed the button to end the call and then fell onto his back. The nervous energy was becoming overwhelming. It hadn’t gotten this bad in years.

He eventually got himself together enough to call the police. That was an adventure in itself. Police don’t seem to like thirty somethings with multiple piercings or want to take them seriously.

The little girl hummed as she walked along the stream. Her little torn Easter dress bounced as she walked. She must have been ten or eleven years old both physically and mentally.

It was just starting to get a teeny bit warmer. She couldn’t feel it, but tiny flowers were starting to show up sometimes. She wished she could pick them, but her hand went right through them.

She hummed a little tune about ducks. Were there ducks in this stream? No, there were crying sounds in this stream.

The little girl ran towards the noise. Her long dark hair flew behind her in a swirly, otherworldly pattern as she sought it out. It was a boy. Or a grown up? A teenager. He was normal. Wearing a very dirty blue polo shirt. He probably couldn’t see her.

“I wonder why he’s sad.” She wondered allowed.

The teen jumped at the human voice and the girl jumped too.

“Oh! You can see me!” she said in surprise. “I’ve heard of that. My name is Valerie.”

Valerie was just met with terrified silence.

“Español?” She asked.

The teenager shook his head.

“English?” she said.

He nodded and shakily placed a bent and cracked pair of glasses on his head.

“P-Patton. Hi.” he said, clearly struggling to talk.

“Are you trying to look happy?” Valerie asked.

Patton smiled, trying to imitate his dad. It didn’t work.

“You have spinach in your teeth.” Valerie noted.

Patton laughed a little. He wasn’t exactly sure why. Maybe such a normal ghost encounter after such a catastrophic one was funny. He looked up. How long had he been upset? How long had he been wandering before that ghost had tricked him? The sky was dark now. The girl was glowing like a willow-the-wisp.

“I have a bright idea.” Patton said suddenly.

“Does that have to do with how I’m glowing?” Valerie asked.

“Yup! Do you know the way back to town, Valerie? I need to get home.”

“Oh, yeah I know the way back to town.” Valerie said. “I’ll help you.”

Patton got up, ignoring the torturous stiffness in his joints and the pain on his scrapes as best he could and followed the little girl back down the stream.

“My phone is probably waterlogged now. Virgil will never let me hear the end of it.” Patton said.

“Who’s Virgil?” Valerie asked as she stopped to let Patton catch up.

“The best uncle ever, and kind of like my dad, but he’s my uncle.” Patton said. “He let me get a cat. Her name is Sally like from Nightmare Before Christmas. She really likes people, just like me.”

“You like people?” Valerie asked.

“You betcha, kiddo.” Patton said happily. “Especially ghost people.”

Patton looked like he very much would’ve liked to touch her nose or rough up her hair and for once Valerie was happy she phased through everything, because she was getting too old for that. Or... was. Who was this guy?

“You seem pretty happy for somebody who was just crying and hurt.” Valerie said, pausing again to let him limp up to her. “Aren’t you a teenager? My mom always said teenagers are grumpy.”

“Not me.” Patton said. “I get tired easy I think, but thankfully I really like naps.”

They reached a point where the large ditch the stream had cut through the earth over time got a little shorter.

“Are you okay?” Valerie asked, indicating the climb.

Patton considered it. He didn’t have a very good reaction time. His years of being hit in the head with dodgeballs and every other number of things informed him this was true. So if he slipped he’d probably just fall. The ghost girl could just walk into the ground and then float back up out of it. He considered all of these facts for a moment.

“Well, I really need to get home.” Patton said. “Wait for me at the top please, miss?”

Valerie nodded and then walked into the wall of rocks and dirt.

Patton adjusted his broken glasses and shook his hands. He took a small painful jump forward one, two, three times. Good enough. He climbed the six feet of the wall, humming as he did so.

“Oh, that was a climb.” Patton said.

“You did a good job.” Valerie said encouragingly. “I would’ve fallen over.”

“Well I’m a bit older and taller than you, kiddo.” Patton said. “Now which way?”

The police were not being helpful at all. Virgil was absolutely spent from making phone calls but he couldn’t sleep. He was standing in his friend Terrence’s living room, pacing so fast he was in danger of putting a rut in the carpet. He rambled on over and over.

“And what if he’s scared? He doesn’t talk much when he’s scared. I mean, I taught him how to ask for help when he was very little but what if he can’t explain where we live? What if he forgot our address again? His memory is terrible. And what about the ghosts? It’s winter and those damn things are everywhere around this time of year. They fucking migrate like birds or something.”

Terrence, who was too short to comfortably reach Virgil’s shoulders without it feeling awkward stepped in front of his friend and put a hand on his chest.

“You need. To calm down. Patton stopped forgetting your address years ago.”

“But...”

“You’re getting worked up again.”

Virgil took a second. He was getting all worked up again. He took a deep breath.

“It’s gonna be fine.” Terrence said.

“But what if it isn’t?” Virgil said. “Remember the last time someone went missing?”

“You have a point.” Terrence admitted.

“I’m gonna look for him myself.” Virgil said, grabbing his jacket off the chair and rushing out.

“Not by yourself.” Terrence said. “Wait up, I’ll ride shotgun.”

Valerie pointed at some lights in the distance. “There’s town. I think I need to go now.”

“Can’t stop moving?” Patton asked sympathetically.

“No.” Valerie said sadly.

Patton nodded. “My dad’s the same way. I miss him a lot when he’s wandering around.”

“He still hasn’t found his way out?” Valerie asked.

“No, but I think someday he will. And hopefully you will too, Valerie. I think you can. I’m rooting for you.”

“You’re really nice, Patton. Most of the seers I hear about are sad old people.” Valerie said.

“Thank you, Valerie. You’re really nice too. Do you have to go now?” Patton asked.

“Yeah.” she said. lowering her head.

“Do you need an air hug?”

“Yeah.” Valerie said, starting to sniff.

Patton held out his arms and the girl did the same and they pretended to hug.

“Good luck, Valerie! Thank you!” Patton said.

Valerie smiled and then vanished back into the trees. Patton took a breath and mentally prepared himself to walk on his own and then started walking towards town. The weeds on the side of the road poked through the rips in his pants. He hugged his now muddy cardigan. He couldn’t put it on, but it was a little bit cold. He hadn’t noticed that when he had someone to talk to.

Twice he had to take a break to do nothing for a while on the side of the road before moving on, humming to break the late winter silence. When he finally reached town he figured out he was in the industrial part and mentally went through all the street names before deciding which way to go.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to walk very far.

“Patton!” he heard.

Was... that was Terrence! Virgil’s friend Terrence!

“Patton!” he heard a different voice say.

Virgil! That was Virgil! That was exciting. He should call back. He should... oh no.

He couldn’t bring himself to yell back. This was all a lot to process. He’d been stressed all day and now this was important. Too much. He started running, almost falling over cracks in the road more than once. He started to hear a car stalling.

“I don’t think he’s here either. Maybe you’re right.” Virgil sighed.

“Do you need me to stay over tonight?”

“No, I...”

Thump.

“What in the hell was that?” said Terrence.

Virgil got out of the car and walked to the trunk. There was someone doubled over next to it clutching their stomach. Virgil turrned on the phone on his flashlight.

“Hey! What are you... Patton! Terrence, it’s him!” Virgil called.

Terrence rushed out of the car and looked. There was the teenager, doubled over in pain and quietly laughing while Virgil tried to encourage him to speak up.

“I don’t think he’s talking. He won’t move, but he’s laughing.” Virgil said.

“Here, I’ll pick him up. Help me out.” Terrence said.

Virgil helped place his nephew in Terrence’s arms. It looked almost comical, a 5′10″ teenager in the arms of a 5′4″ thirty-something, but Terrence could handle it. Virgil spent his days drawing. He opened the door for Terrence to gently place Patton inside the car. Then Virgil gently picked a couple of leaves out of Patton’s hair and coaxed him into putting the seat belt on.

Once the two men had gotten into the front, they looked back to see that Patton was already asleep. Virgil sighed and pressed his head against the steering wheel hard before starting the engine.

“What do you think happened?” Terrence asked.

“He’ll tell me later.” Virgil sighed. “If he can find the words for it. You want me to drop you off? I think I can take it from here.”

“If you’re sure.” Terrence said.

“I’m never sure about anything.” Virgil said. “But yeah, I can probably handle it. Remember when he ran away from home?”

“Oh, yeah.” Terrence giggled. “Right after Roman vanished and you still had no idea how kids work.”

“Especially Patton.” Virgil said, a small smirk appearing on his face. “Patton is special.”

Virgil started to visibly relax a bit more. He started taking turns a little slower and driving more casually. Terrence smiled and looked out the window. How he had ever gotten caught up with the Sanders family he didn’t know.

“It was when you and Roman were in Anything Goes.” Virgil reminded him.

“How’d you know I was thinking about that?” Terrence asked.

Virgil shrugged and gently brought the car to a stop in front of Terrence’s house.

“Once in a while I just know things.” Virgil said.

He looked back at Patton sleeping in the backseat and smiled ever so slightly. “Maybe our whole family is just weird. Promise I would’ve already told you if it happened more often.”

“Well, life with you just continues to be weird. I’ll see you next Friday.” Terrence said, unbuckling.

“Hey, did you ever hear if Jo is gonna make it?” Virgil asked.

“Nah, I think he’s still out of town.”

“Alright. See you then if I don’t chicken out.”

Virgil waited for Terrence to close the door and get into the warm looking house and then started the car. He heard a small tired hum from the back.

“Waking up?” He asked, turning around.

Patton nodded and whispered “I messed up today, but I learned from it, so it’s okay.”

Virgil sighed. “That’s good. That’s good.”

When they got to the apartment Patton needed a little support getting up the familiar steps. When they got to the top Virgil handed Patton his key even though Patton had his own and Patton opened the door before handing the ring back. Virgil turned on the lights.

“So can you explain yourself?” Virgil asked, folding his arms and leaning against the door.

Patton looked terrible in the light. There were scratches all over him, a large amount of dried blood on his leg, mud and leaves stuck to his clothes and hair. His favorite cardigan was covered in sand and mud and balled up in his fist. His light blue polo shirt was torn in several spots. His cargo pants were torn beyond repair. For the first time in a long while Virgil saw that there wasn’t even the ghost of a smile on his nephew’s face. Normally there was at least a small amount of playfulness there, but tonight there was nothing. Small tears had started at the sides of his eyes.

“I... I thought... this ghost said somebody needed help but he tricked me and I fell down.” Patton said.

“Where?” Virgil asked.

“I don’t know.” Patton whispered. “I got lost and I know I’m too old to now but I threw a tantrum. I’m really sorry. A little ghost named Valerie helped me find town again.”

Virgil sighed. “Go take a shower. I’ll wash that sweater for you. I promise it’ll be okay. You’re not grounded.”

A small smile appeared where it belonged on Patton’s face. He handed his cardigan over with a “Thanks, Verge!” and ran to the one bathroom in the apartment.

Virgil didn’t feel like going down to the laundry room so he took his oversized hoodie off and threw it onto the sofa before reaching into the kitchen cabinet and pulling out a plastic washboard. He filled the sink with water and started scrubbing the sweater, the movement and smell of soap helping to clear his mind.

“Go ahead and ask. I don’t mind.” Virgil said.

“How’d you know I was here?” Patton asked, walking in wearing grey pajama pants and a white t-shirt. “Aren’t you gonna ask if I cleaned my scratches?”

“You already did, right?” Virgil said, carefully wringing out the cardigan before hanging it over a dining chair to dry.

“Yeah...” Patton said, seeming suddenly a little put off.

“You were gonna ask about the tattoo?” Virgil said, drying his arms off. “I was always surprised you never asked, really. Go ahead.”

Patton studied Virgil’s left arm. He was usually wearing hoodies or leather jackets so it was often covered up, but on the occasion he did have bare arms the tattoo was visible. It was black and cracked and spread out like lightning over the night sky in summer and it looked a little ominous against Virgil’s white skin.

“What does it mean?” Patton asked, sitting down and putting his chin on his fist.

Patton smiled wider as he witnessed his uncle crack a small grin. That didn’t usually happen unless they were teasing each other.

“I got it after you showed up.” Virgil said. “There was a thunderstorm on the night you were born. I never wanted any kids of my own so Roman having one was the biggest deal. I wanted my first tattoo to have something to do with you.”

“So was it because of the rainstorm?” Patton asked. “That’s weird.”

“No, it’s because I hate thunderstorms. They make me so anxious you can’t even imagine. But... when you were a baby you always laughed during thunder storms.”

“I think I still do that.” Patton said with a giggle.

“You laugh at everything that’s not firetrucks or Sprite.” Virgil said, throwing the towel at Patton.

Patton threw the towel back “Sprite is the wrong kind of bubbly. I can’t stand it!” he said, a laugh in his voice.

“You always did recover fast, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t forget you knew what I was gonna ask.” Patton said. “I’m not that dumb.”

“Nobody thinks you’re dumb.” Virgil said. “Especially not me. And because you didn’t forget I’ll just tell ya. Sometimes I just know what people are thinking about.”

“Like how often? Is it anything like me with ghosts?” Patton asked

“No. And it happens every couple days maybe. But with random people. It’s not too often it happens with someone I know. Maybe once every few months. I never told you before because I didn’t want you to think I was getting in your private business and I can’t control when it happens. Part of the reason I’m such a shut-in you know. Tonight it’s been happening a lot though. Maybe ‘cause I’m anxious, I dunno.”

“But you’re always anxious.” Patton said.

“More anxious than on beverage.” Virgil said.

“You’re not gonna let me forget about that, are you?” Patton said.

“Nope. Now text your friend and tell him you’re not dead. Do you wanna take the day off of school tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, text your friend. Goodnight.”

“I love you, Verge.” Patton said, heading to his room.

Virgil looked out the kitchen window to see a rosy color over the horizon.

“Love you too, buddy.”

“...and that’s why existentialism isn’t a practical philosophy for the modern world.” Patton finished.

Logan stared and blinked. He looked at his watch.

“That was thirty minutes of talking.” he marveled.

“What?” Patton asked.

“I asked you what your homework for your 19th century philosophy class was.” Logan said.

“Oops.” Patton said sheepishly, starting to tap nervously on the table.

Logan held out his hand and looked around the bookshelves of the library.

“No, don’t freak out. It was fascinating. I just didn’t think you knew that much about existentialism.” Logan reassured his friend.

“I am a philosophy major.” Patton mumbled.

“You’re right, you’re correct.” Logan assured him. “I’m just, you know, caught up in organic chemistry all the time so I hardly take the time to remember that...”

A book fell off of a shelf near them. They both stared at it.

“Was that one a ghost?” Logan asked, adjusting his glasses nervously.

“Yup. Nancy. Hi, Nancy!” Patton said, waving.

He recoiled at whatever the ghost had said.

“Rude?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, a little bit too much.” Patton said, starting to tap on the desk.

Logan tried to return to the formula he was memorizing but kept getting distracted by Patton’s tapping and apparent tracking of the ghost’s movements.

Logan sat up straight and took a deep breath. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something for some time.” He said.

“Are you okay? You’re sweating. Maybe they should Lo-wer the temperature in the library for Logan.” Patton said.

Logan sighed. “Have you ever been tested for autism?”

Patton squinted but kept smiling. “Was that an offensive question?”

“No. I’m looking for information. Remember my friend Emile?”

“I think so. He was being haunted, right?” Patton asked.

“Yes, he was being haunted.” Logan said. “He’s working on his doctorate in child psychology and says you show a lot of signs of an undiagnosed adult with autism.”

“Oh, I thought you were going to say I threw a tantrum and forgot about it again or something.” Patton said in relief.

“What?” said Logan.

“Oh, I didn’t need to see a doctor about it. I’ve just known. I need to get to class and maybe talk to Nancy about knocking books over. Bye!” Patton said, gathering up his stuff and leaving.

“Wait! How can she knock books over?” Logan called back.

“Nobody knows! Ghosts are weird!” Patton called back as he left. “No, not like that, Nancy. No, I don’t care who hears me. You’re making more work for the staff.”

Patton disappeared and then an entire shelf of books fell off of a shelving unit all at once. Logan decided to move to a floor of the library that wasn’t haunted.

Patton concentrated on getting to class as best as he could. He was a super senior now and twenty four so you’d think that he would know his way around campus by now, but his memory kept failing him. On the bright side, he had managed to make friends with a lot of people he regularly asked directions from. However, today something was destined to happen that was even more surprising than getting lost on campus.

“Patton!” he heard. “Patton, is that you? Patton!”

Patton finally registered that his name was being called and he turned around. A girl who couldn’t have been more than fifteen was running towards him, her raven black hair flying out behind her.

“Valerie?” Patton asked, his eyes widening in  wonder.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to find you for four years now!” Valerie said.

Patton started bouncing. “Oh my gosh, you’re not a ghost anymore!” he exclaimed.

It was apparent that Patton was having a difficult time restraining himself.

“How did you get out? How did it happen?” he asked. “Why are you at college? You got taller!”

Valerie smiled. “I fell back in my mom’s garden and... here I am. I don’t know how really. I lost six years of ageing though and was still eleven when I found my way out but, I’m here, yeah. And, I was getting a tour through my high school. The theater department has programs for high school students here. It’s a long story.”

Patton’s mind was racing. He smiled wide and held up one finger and then reached into his pocket and opened the notes on his phone where he typed furiously and then handed it to her. Valerie read the note.

“That is so great. I’m so happy! I was wondering why you stopped coming to the woods in the winter. I was worried about you. But you’re back and that is so nice!”

Valerie smiled at the note and handed the phone back.

“Can I hug you? Is that okay?” Valerie asked.

Patton nodded and embraced the girl who still wasn’t quite used to the realness of hugs again after all this time.

“I’ll find you later, Patton. Thank you so much.” Valerie said before running off.

Patton realized that he never even asked her for a phone number. A ghost back in the world of the living. Patton remembered going out into the woods in winter to find her after Valerie had helped him get home when he was sixteen and had been tricked by that ghost (who apparently had tried that stunt with some other people with the sight before but only Patton had fallen for it). She had always been in her torn white Easter dress and straw hat. Always eleven years old with bruises on her face from falling down the steps from her mother’s house where she had fallen into the layer of slightly less reality. She had stopped showing up after a few years.

Patton continued walking to class. Hopefully nobody called on him to discuss anything today because he was far too excited to talk.

Later that week Virgil handed Patton the key and Patton opened the door of the apartment before handing Virgil his key back. Virgil stuffed the keys in his pocket.

“You know, I originally started doing that to teach you how to use keys.” Virgil said. “Isn’t it weird that we still do that whenever you come here?”

“I like it.” said Patton. “It’s something we do together.”

“You always were a sap weren’t you, Patton?” Virgil said fondly. “Hey, that reminds me. I’ve got something to show ya. Have a seat.”

Patton had a seat. An old woman walked through the wall, in an old 50s nightgown.

“Where’s Jenise?” The old woman asked angrily.

“Jenise has been dead for over thirty years now Mrs. Anderson.” Patton said politely.

“Hmph. Never telling me where to find her. I’ll find her, you young idiot. And don’t think I don’t know what you did with your boyfriend that night. You’re lucky your uncle can’t see me.”

“I broke up with that boyfriend six years ago, Mrs. Anderson.” Patton reminded her.

“You’re just saying that to cover up!” Mrs. Anderson said angrily.

She left, hobbling through Patton on her way to phase through the door. Patton got shivers all through his entire body and began shaking violently.

“Okay! Here’s the box. I’ve got to sign a few... Oh, Patton was it one of the regulars again?” Virgil asked, coming in with a huge cardboard box.

“Just Mrs. Anderson.” Patton said, putting a happy face on. “It’s okay.”

Virgil suddenly winced and then put the box down.

“Valerie?” he asked. “And no, it is not okay.”

He rushed over and Patton let him take off his jacket and put it around him.

“What’s with Valerie? She’s out?” Virgil asked.

“I guess you heard a lot.” Patton said, pulling the hoodie close around himself.

“Yeah, sorry. I can’t stop it. Do you want to talk?”

“I want to see what’s in the box.” Patton said.

“Okay, you sure you’re okay? I know how you get when a ghost full on walks through you.”

“Come on, what’s in the box? You got excited. You’re never excited.”

“Oh, alright.” Virgil said.

Virgil pulled a knife out of his pocket and opened the cardboard box, revealing stacks and stacks of the same comic style new book.

“Your graphic novel?” Patton asked. “The one with the vampire cats?”

“Yeah. check this out.”

Virgil picked up one of the fresh new books and pointed to a little banner on the top. Patton read it quietly and then his eyes widened.

“You made the bestseller list!?” he exclaimed.

“Now don’t act so surprised.” Virgil said in his fake cocky way.

Patton shook the book around in his hands so excitedly Virgil thought he might start vibrating. He squealed and then pulled his uncle into a hug, abandoning the hoodie on the floor.

“Well what do you know? I guess dad was wrong.”

Patton looked up. “Dad!” he exclaimed.

“Tell Virgil I’m very happy for him.”

Patton repeated what Roman had said. Virgil smiled at that.

“Well I’m gonna go rub these in the noses of some people.” Virgil said. “I’ll leave you two to... whatever it is you talk about. You’re both far more feelingsy than I am.”

“Don’t crash the car.” Patton said after him as he left with the box

“Don’t give me a panic attack.” Virgil shot back before closing the door.

“So, hi.” Roman said.

“What’s wrong?” Patton asked.

“I overheard some things and from what Virgil was talking about, it sounds like they’re true. Someone got out, and you knew her.”

“Yup.” Patton said.

Roman sighed and looked at Patton. He sat down on the couch leaving no dent in the cushions.

“You’re almost as old as I am now.” Roman said sadly moving his hand in a way that wasn’t quite touching his son’s face but was close enough to seem affectionate.

“I don’t care. You’re still my dad.” Patton reassured him.

“I missed everything.” Roman said. “I missed my own life. I missed your life.”

“Is that why you came here?” Patton asked.

Roman shook his head. “I can’t remember why I came here anymore.” he admitted. “And... I may have to leave soon again. Staying in one place feels more and more like a losing battle than before.”

“I’ll still be here, in this city if you want to talk.” Patton said.

“I think I’m past the point of talking, my prince. My imprisonment here is old enough to drink. If I’m not careful I’m going to end up like old Mrs. Anderson that haunts this dump. Or that strange burnt Victorian fellow that keeps trying to convince me he’s British for some reason.” Roman lamented.

“He also has a weird obsession with snakes.” Patton said.

A tired old meow sounded from the next room.

“Oh, it’s that cat!” Roman said.

Sally the cat looked sternly at Roman before jumping into Patton’s lap and quickly getting comfortable. A few grey hairs were mixed in with the black ones now.

“Sally will keep away the snakes.” Patton said happily. “And that weird Victorian ghost doesn’t like cats for some reason.

“I call him Deceit.” Roman said. “And yes. Some suspect he used to be allergic to cats but of course you’ll never get a real answer out of him.”

“How much longer do you have here?” Patton asked, rubbing Sally’s head.

“An hour, maybe. If I really try.” Roman said. “And I will try.”

“Why do you still live in this apartment?” Logan huffed as Virgil handed Patton the key to open the door.

“Because it’s where I’m comfortable, so shut up. I’m getting too old for this.” Virgil said, taking his keys back.

“You’re only forty six, Uncle Verge.” Patton said, inspecting a box.

“So do you want to donate this one?” Virgil asked.

“Yeah, I think so.” Patton said.

“Good, I’ll put it in the car.” Logan said, picking it up.

“Oh, this place is gonna feel so empty.” Virgil sighed. “You’re sure you’ll be okay?”

Patton giggled a little. “I’m twenty eight, Verge. I haven’t lived here for a lot of years. I’ll be okay. You taught me better than to be stupid,  remember?”

“Yeah, but you kept your stuff here.” Virgil noted. “And, you know. You’re leaving the state. With your friend. And like... working at a big university. It’s a big change and, you and I both don’t do great with that.”

Patton looked at the snake bites still on his uncle’s bottom lip.

“I know.” He said.

Virgil’s pocket started buzzing. He pulled his phone out and checked the number.

“The hospital?” Virgil said. “Why’s a hospital calling me?”

“Are you gonna answer it?” Patton asked. “You can do it.”

“You and your encouragement, I swear.” Virgil mumbled, unlocking his phone. “Hello? Yes, this is he? Brother? But my... How tall? The leg? No, they didn’t. Okay, I have his son here. Is it okay if... Okay, great. No, I understand. Yeah. Thank you.”

He hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and then exhaled.

“What was it?” Patton asked, nervously putting his hands in front of his face. Virgil held the phone against his face and sighed.

“They found your father.”

After twenty five years of feeling nothing, this was certainly a lot. Roman tried to move but found he couldn’t. Why was his leg so warm. Was he moving. Well now there’s something on his face and...

“Roman? Roman, can you hear me? Your family is here to see you. Roman Sanders?”

“Uh, yes?” he asked.

“Roman, can you tell me what year it is?”

“I...” Roman started and then stopped.

“Roman? Can you hear me?”

“Yes, but who are you?”

He stopped remembering again.

They say that hearing is the last thing to go, and they are right. Whoever they are. Hearing yourself flat lining would be terrifying if you weren’t too dead to care.

“Dad?”

Roman felt his chest and stomach expanding with air. A small beeping noise came from somewhere on his right. He lazily opened his eyes and smiled at what he saw.

“You dyed your hair blue.” he noted.

“You haven’t changed.” Patton said, smiling.

“Well, that ends right now.” Roman mumbled. “Is Virgil here?”

“He’s asleep.” Patton said, gesturing to a chair in the corner.

And he was. Asleep in a chair with a tacky print by the hospital window.

“He got old.” Roman noted.

“You died.” Patton said.

“I heard.” Roman said.

“I’m just a little younger than you.” Patton said.

“Indeed.” Roman replied. “Look, I think for once in my life I am too tired to speak any more.”

“Can I talk to you about my new job?” Patton asked.

“Don’t you want to hear about the lightning storm that brought me back to you?” Roman replied.

“No, but I think Virgil will.” Patton said.

Roman looked again at the figure of his sleeping brother. The left sleeve of his hoodie was rolled up slightly and the tattoo of lightning was visible. Yes, Virgil would like this story. But until then...

“Okay, ramble on about your job.” Roman said.

Patton lit up. “Okay, so there was an opening for a professor of organic chemistry and 19th century philosophy at this university at the same time, right?”

[two-creepy-nerds]

Sacrifices

Author: Luna

Content Warning: Violence, Body Horror

Length: Short

I don’t really know how this started. I had always been interested in the occult and growing up in the buckle of the bible belt, so it was customary for my friends and I to rebel. Piercings, tattoos, all black in the blistering, summer heat.

We considered ourselves to be the outcasts. The kids that were shoved into lockers and trash cans by the football teams. My friend Finnie and I would spend most of our time in the art room or other corners of our rundown school hiding from the harsh words and beatings others would get.

It was before graduation we had found a cool looking old leather bound book filled with spells and rituals in our local library. It too was a run down old building  that was rumored to be haunted by ghosts from the civil war and other horrors.

We snatched it up of course, loving to believe that's what it truly was, but knowing those were just old urban legends to scare children into eating their broccoli or saying their prayers before bed. Each boogeyman having a specific prayer to keep him at bay.

I shot the idea, “How cool would it be if we made our own coven?”

“Like witches?” my friend Finnie asked.

“Yeah dude. Let's be witches!”

So, we embarked on this new journey, trying to find anything we could on witchcraft. Our noses were glued to the screens of our phones, browsing web forums, tumblr, and anything else we could think would help us learn.

We had even met a few more local witches who had been in the craft for a couple years. Sometimes we would all visit each other at night in the graveyard just taking in the silence and serenity that settled over that place like a blanket.

By the time graduation rolled around, Finnie and I had moved in together, setting up our altars, and began doing daily rituals to our deities. Finnie focused more on home remedies with herbs and essential oils and daily blessings over our home.

I learned divination, doing daily spreads for myself and sometimes for Finnie or other friends. A few years later after Summer once again transitioned to Autumn, Finnie and I decided to do some cleaning around our house.

“Hey! Look what I found!” 

Finnie held up a picture of us from middle school, our hair dyed six different colors and with bangs swooping over our heavily lined eyes. Laughter quickly turned to cringes, then into immediately playing bands from our dark, emo past.  

During our little jam session, we decided to organize the bookshelf.

“Hey, do you know where this came from?” I say as I hold up a leather bound book.

“You stole that from the Library before we graduated, I can’t believe you of all people wouldn’t remember that.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Oh shut it, ‘Miss Pickpocket’,” Finnie grinned deviously, her eyebrows raising with snide in her voice.

“One does not simply remember the multitudes of things they’ve stolen over the years,” I winked back.

But it seems like the memories had come flooding back. I flip through the stained pages of the book, taking in the lovely smell that vintage books all seem to carry. I had noticed on a couple pages towards the end that the text was in Theban, an old language that seemed to have died, but can sometimes be found in a witch’s book of shadows.

“Hey Finn, have you ever actually looked through this thing? Some parts are in Theban.”

“Yeah I had tried translating it, but it’s pretty difficult. I think there's a part talking about a blood sacrifice or something. Lots of torn and ripped out pages too. Pretty sure the Librarians don’t even miss a piece of junk like that.”

I shrug it off and put the book away, it’s dark spine standing out from the rest of the collection like a sore thumb. Might get rid of it soon. 

Later that night, a couple of our friends come over for dinner. We chat about various things including the emo phase we all inevitably went through. Finnie mentions the book and our friend Sarah lights up like a Christmas tree.

“You have to show me this! It sounds so cool!” she exclaimed.

Sarah’s new to our little coven. She also isn’t the smartest person, but she has a wonderful personality and is gifted in many ways. One being she could make us bust a gut laughing. Finnie gets up and grabs the book off the shelf and lets Sarah flip through it.

“We should do one of these rituals as my initiation into the coven.”

“I don’t know Sarah. This book is pretty old and parts are in Theban, so it’s hard to read. Methinks we should do something easier for something like that.” The other girls agree, this book is no walk in the park when it comes to spells.

“But a ritual like this would would be perfect.” Sarah points to a ritual that's all in Theban, obviously grasping at straws.

“Well... I guess I can try to translate it.” Finnie proclaims. 

I know she's trying to keep the peace and hear Sarah out but I’m worried this might end badly.

So Finnie did her best to translate the text that night.

“Hey this is a blood sacrifice,” I hear Finnie shout from her room

“Leave it to Sarah to pick blood magick am I right?” Finnie and I chuckle but I feel anxious, blood magick isn’t something I’m comfortable with.

---

Over the next few days, we had to gather the few materials that we didn’t have: A black goat A copper bowl And wood for a bonfire.

We also had to make sure the location where we normally preformed our rituals was clear of any squatters.

We had gathered up everything we needed, and got everything set up and ready. I never really enjoyed performing blood magick, but it was a majority vote. One of our local farmer friends had sold us the goat.

Something didn’t feel right about this, I usually preformed white magick but this felt wrong. It was chilling. It felt dark. Once the sun had set and the moon was above us, the fire was lit. We each stripped down and began to dance around the fire, the smoke rising above us to the heavens.

I felt more and more uneasy as the time grew closer and closer.  Something about this definitely didn’t feel right. The goat was humanely put down recently and was hung upside down from one of the trees. His neck was slit and blood collected in the copper bowl.

Sarah then marked her body with symbols and sigils up and down her arms, legs, and abdomen. She then drank some ceremonial mead that Finnie had made.

Then Sarah began to mark a sigil on all of our abdomens with the goat’s blood. Each of us took a sip of the honey wine and held hands as we chanted in an ancient and dead tongue.

Then everything had gone black. The last thing I remember was seeing the goat back on the ground and walking around as if it were alive.

I woke up that morning, sore from falling asleep on the ground.

We were all covered with soot, dried goats blood, and bug bites from the night before. I was the first to find my clothes. I couldn’t wait till I could go back home and take a much needed shower.

The rest of the group slowly woke up and began putting their clothes back on and cleaning up the mess we had made that night. We then said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.

“Hey Fin? Did any of that feel really weird to you last night?” Her eyes were glazed over as she sat quietly in the passenger seat, the only noise she made was a slight cough.

“Fin, you okay?”

She snapped out of her dissociative state, “Huh? What? Um never better. I feel like a million bucks.”

She was sweating profusely. I could always tell when she was lying, but I didn't press any further. I was suddenly hit with a sharp pain in my stomach and had to pull the car over. I removed my seat belt and pulled up my shirt to see that the sigil that Sarah painted on me was burned into my skin.

Finnie pulled out of her vegetable like state again and was screaming, her voice filled with misery and pain. She couldn’t pull her seat belt off fast enough and practically ripped off her shirt. It looked like someone had taken a branding tool and pressed it right under our belly button.

I try to swallow any scream of agony that might escape through my lips and put on a brave face for Finnie. I drive us to the nearest hospital and try to get Finnie through the doors without collapsing.

I yell, “We need to see a doctor immediately! We’ve been burned!”

The nurse at the counter takes us in the back where a Doctor comes in and looks at our abdomens. He sighs and whispers something to the nurse.

He leaves after handing me a prescription for burn cream, and we are told to leave with Finnie having to be wheeled out. I call the local pharmacy and place in the prescription, which will be ready in a few hours.

I take a long sigh and try my best to drive us home. We finally make it back where I have to help Finnie walk in and lay down. She had stopped screaming on the ride home after her voice gave out, now only letting out hoarse grunts and silent sobs.

I run a bath of cold water and sink into it, almost feeling relief. The rest of my body goes numb and I can’t feel the burning anymore. I try to scrub the dirt off my body, but I have to get out.

I do my best to try and bandage the burn and keep it clean and covered, then drain the water and run another cold bath for Finnie. I lift up her shirt and put a cold wash rag over her burns. She starts to weep.

“Fin, if you want, sitting in cold water seemed to help a lot.”

She nods, moping with tears in her eyes and pulls off her clothes to the best of her strength, but only manages to do it halfway.

Finnie walks into the bathroom and almost throws herself in the tub, letting the freezing water engulf her. She seems to return back to herself. I help her out and dress her burns.

Feeling as normal as I could, I head back out to town to pick up the ointment. I can’t help but wonder if this happened to the other girls. I sort of forget that thought for about a week, trying to get the burns to heal and eventually scar over.

I had finally called all of the other girls from the coven which they seem to be fine and had no idea what we were talking about. We had met each other for dinner again and no one had scars.

I had also been losing weight. At first a few pounds now turned into something concerning. My face became hollow and gaunt, the same happening to Finnie. It’s like something was sucking the life right out of us. We searched through the book and the internet to see what was happening to us but nothing added up. I grew weaker and weaker. I knew this was killing me, but tried to push forward. For Finn. For the pain to just stop. Oh, God. Just stop. My fingers are even getting weak. Just flipping through the pages of the book feels like work and I have to keep it set down on a table to read. A heavy and dark energy soaks up the air around it. We look online to see if there's anyone who could help translate the spell we did more accurately.

Finnie comes across a little shop in a city just a hop skip and a jump from where we are. I’m in too much pain to even drive, so I decided to call the shop and see what we can do from there. Finnie hands me the phone and I call the number on the website.

“Hello and thank you for calling Our Little Shop of Horror! How may I help you?”

“Hi, I’m calling to ask about curse removal?” The person on the other line hangs up immediately. “Well so much for that.” 

I look over to Finnie and she’s curled up on the floor, vomiting.

“Oh my God! Finnie, are you okay?” she’s throwing up so much she cant speak. It looks like it has coffee grounds in it, a sign of internal bleeding.

I call an ambulance which arrived five minutes later to take Finnie. The EMT’s ask me if she's on anything and I tell them we’ve been experiencing weight loss and severe burns on our abdomens. Then I begin to vomit. It feels like fire coming up and I’m carried into the back of the ambulance to be rushed to the hospital.

Doctors and nurses ask us question after question. They are unable to diagnose what’s wrong with us. We lay in the hospital beds with tubes and wires hooked up to us as Finnie is still unable to keep anything down. She now has to have a feeding tube put in. I’m barely able to stay awake longer than a few minutes, coming in and out of consciousness.

---

The sky's dark, the air is still and hot. The only sound for miles are the cicadas. I don’t know where I am, and there's no one else here. I to walk forward and my eyes adjust to the darkness a little more. Making sure I don’t fall, I take little steps leading me into a thicket of bushes and trees. There seems to be a faint light growing in the distance. The closer I get the more I can make out what it is.

I’m dreaming, at least I hope I am. Everything seems so real. I can see the bonfire and even smell the rich scent of the smoke filling the sky. I see all my friends dancing around it. Finnie is there and she looks like nothing even happened. They begin a ritual just like last time. I can hear the blood dripping in the bowl and I watch as one girl coats the others in it. They chant around the fire and then begin dancing again slow at first but growing ever faster. Their movements are almost animalistic as their spines contort unnaturally.

One girl cuts down the goat from the tree and draws a sigil on him using some leftover blood and dirt. The goat's eyes open and he rises to his hooves. Two girls fall to the ground. I wake up covered in sweat. I- I’m back at the hospital.

I don’t know if I’m hallucinating or not. I pinch myself but I can’t feel it. Then the smell hits me. Sickeningly sweet, it makes me want to vomit. I get up to find the source.

I go into Finnie’s room and there she is laying in a puddle of now dried bodily fluids, her gaped mouth infested with flies and their maggots. How long had she been like this? How long was I out? Her body is bloated from the gases building up inside her. I’m too shocked to scream or cry, I just drop to my knees and cradle her.

Then I notice something strange. Lifting up my shirt shows the burn scar had turned completely black. I touch it just a bit with my finger and a stabbing pain causes me to cry bloody murder! I wake up screaming this time once again hooked up to wires and tubes! Nurses try to hold me down while attempting to inject something into my I.V. fluid.

Drip

Drip

Drip

It flows into my bloodstream and everything is calm now. There's a fluidity to everyone's movements. I can’t see Finnie, I can’t see anything.

Someone is standing at the foot of my bed. I can’t make out their features but I can hear them clearly. A shadowy silhouette, much less visible than anyone else in the room. It starts to pace back and forth, passing by nurses like he’s disappearing and reappearing in some kind of ominous peek-a-boo game.

When the nurses are satisfied with our calmer demeanor, they leave the room. Only the shadow remains.

Then a voice burrows itself into my head. Something deep. Something unnatural, emotionless, almost robotic.

“It’s time to go.”

The voice is loud and starts to make my head throb! I feel like my brain is going to burst out of my skull!

“It’s here! We no longer need such fragile shells!” I feel the worst stomach ache in my entire life! It’s like a knife is cutting through it! Soon I just give up from the sheer amount of pain. My body goes limp. My head rolls to see Finnie staring back at me.

Her mouth is wide open. And I mean wide. Multiple, sharp objects like blades are coming out of it, splitting her lips, tearing her entire jaw apart.

The last thing I see in the abyss between her sweet lips are two lights, like cigarette butts, burrowing their malice into my fading eyes.

I’m swallowing knives.

[hallistus]

Where it Began, The Venture to Ulduar

((Timeline? This happened a few months ago, last year.)) Alone, Hallistus laid in his bed. The hour late, passing by ever so slowly, ticking clock far off counting each minute, each second. Echoes of its noise swam through the halls, but it did not keep him wake. Grasping a crystal in his hand tightly, he'd give a deep breath, the stone filling with a fiery blue energy until it began to crackle about the rock. The last... Snapping his fingers, the candle upon his nightstand would light a flame. Standing, the elf was familiar with the motions. This time though... there was no armor. Sliding on a white linen shirt, he'd groan with agony and soreness. Working through the feeling by laying back onto the bed.

It had been many times now. It wasn't any different. He needed them. Eyes falling dead upon the thoughts. What were they doing now? Why did it matter? It was time. He needed them. Making sure to check his belt, he'd suddenly panic for a short moment. Reaching across the bed to grab a leather pouch filled with the burning crystals. They would understand. If they could comprehend... He reconciled, dismissing his concerns...

  A sigh, he'd force to a stand rather quickly, taking a moment to balance himself before walking over to the dresser, picking a pair of folded black pants. Fingers running over the canvas, he'd throw it onto the bed. Taking his boots from before the door, and coming back to the bedside. With a soft hum now, he'd feel his earrings dangling and clanging... working on his clothes, and strapping on his boots. Only standing again to work on his belt, two small swords on each side. Looking into the mirror, he'd continue the jolly tune, humming along. Fingers working to fix his hair, wandering about the room preparing... a dash of cologne. Until... he'd stand before the fireplace. Sighing, he'd look up... and vanish in a shimmering white light.

Nothingness, and then nobody.

The empty room lingered in silence, candle yet burning...

((Welcome to the adventure. You two post. Just be Zal and Alla at home, and we'll get things moving! Don't worry, we're all here, so this can take a while if needed, but Mel will able to answer here, so it'll work nicer methinks.))

Allasticus sat upon a makeshift chair upon the deck of Zal's treehouse. It was a rare occasion in that he wasn't wearing his amor, it was neatly placed somewhere within the rooms of the hovel. His blade, however was across his lap and a whetstone was gripped firmly in his hand. With sharp, quick movements he ran the stone across the blades edge, establishing its sharpness once more. He wore a pair of dark pants and a simple shirt and was barefoot, looking more casual and at ease then one might expect. Occasionally his gaze would rise and would sweep across his surrounds, his usual persona of knowing his surroundings and gauging any potential threat was still lodged into his psyche despite being surrounded by tranquility.

Zalaena hadn't ventured too far away from the spellbreaker, joining him outside to indulge in reading one of her adventure books though instead of sticking near him on the deck of the tree house, she could be found on the bridge. Hooking and crossing her legs through the ropes that kept the planks taut, she was suspended over the side of the bridge, hanging upside down. She maintained a slow rock, enough that every now and then she could use the momentum to bend into a sit up to keep herself from becoming light headed. The whole exercise was meant as a means of not only testing, but increasing the stamina in her lower limbs though she'd mostly just say.. well, it was fun! The dark night became ever more still, birds silencing, the wind dying. White noise would creep over, the world seeming to still for that second... that moment a soft gentle chiming would be heard. A hard cracking thunder would sound, from behind Allasticus would shine a bright harsh light. First small, expanding outwards and becoming larger. Its energies forming into a shape. Hallistus... rather plainly would give a sigh upon arrival. "Treehouse... I like it. Has a certain feel to it." Turning towards the door and simply walking through as if it were his own.... not waiting for them to catch up. Knocking on the wall, his knuckles would rap several times... "What type of wood is this? Beautiful, really." Stopping before going too far into their own abode... "Lets get ready! We've places to be!" The man was pale and worse for wear, still unable to help the bags under his eyes.

Allasticus seemed lost in his craft, focusing intently on the edge and gauging its sharpness. All that was lost as he heard the thunder behind him. He shot to his feet and quickly had the hilt of his blade in his fist. The blade swung towards Hall, stopping dead short of his neck just as Alla realized who it was. A faint scowl crossed his face as he withdrew the weapon and set it down agains the chair that he was sitting in. However it didn't seem to matter as Halla was already inside the house. "What are you doing here?" Allasticus said with a solemn tone "and why are you ordering us around?" He then turned over his shoulder and barked at Zal: "Company!"

Zalaena pulled her eyes away from the pages of her book as she felt the shift in weather and her brows furrowed. Was it going to rain? The crack of thunder startled her, enough that for a moment she was screeching and scrambling to reestablish her grip upon those ropes with her legs, flailing wildly in fear that this was the end. This was it. She was going to die like a sickly squirrel, falling from the tree tops. In her brief panic, the book had been dropped, falling to the ground below in exchange for her fingers to find purchase along the edge of wooden boards and she began pulling herself upright. Spotting Hal, her brows furrowed and she lifted herself up, rolling onto the bridge. "Cherry, I believe", she murmured, canting her head to either side as she eyed him. She had completely missed that little display from Allasticus during her near death experience and she began trotting after Hal, giving the spellbreaker a few small pats against his shoulder. "M'guessin' it's time for that trip I told y'about, yeah?" She smiled widely at him before stepping inside the small abode. Lifting her arms, she crossed them behind her head as she tagged behind Hal with slow, wide footsteps.

Crossing his arms, his head would tilt up. Brow taking a tilt, smile still stretched across his face, and never leaving. Amused? No, simply happy to see Allasticus. Watching Zalaena arrive, her non-chalant demeanor a rather pleasant blend. They were cute. "Cherry is a nice wood, but yes. She's right Allasticus." Storming past them, he'd wander about, searching for Allasticus' armor rather invasively. "So you might want to gear up, get ready. Long journey, y'know? No time to waste." Moving with a graceful desperation, every motion forced and painful... yet he did not stop.

Clapping once more, he'd walk immediately before Allasticus. "C'mon buddy. Get your stuff? I don't know if you're aware, but I'm literally dying, this is sort of important to me." The statement made to both, but his eyes would settle on Allasticus' chest... a moment of silent admiration, he'd reach out and squeeze the warrior's arm. "Wow... Zal... y'know? I get it... from right here? Yeah." Looking up as if he were about to kiss Allasticus, but stepping back and clapping a final time. "Time to go!" Whirling his hands about to make the message clear. Allasticus moved into the tree house and kept his gaze upon Hall, arching a brow at the mans insistence. Once Zal had spoken he gave a nod, remembering what she had said. "I was unaware that it was to be so soon..." he muttered "arrangements have not been made for my absence." There was a flood of excuses at the ready but they seem to dissipate once Halla began to speak again. "Dying?" he said, confused if anything by that statement as he looked to Zal for an explanation. It wasn't until Halla stopped, stared and grabbed that had the Warrior snapping his gaze back to him.. he went quite still. Once Hal had relinquished his grip he expelled a loud snort. "Don't touch my armour..." he muttered as he moved to get himself fitted.

Zalaena frowned at the mention of death, glancing around the small space they all resided in as she tried to put her thoughts elsewhere for the moment. Elongated ears flickered with her name and her arms slowly lowered from behind her head as she turned to face them again, immediately quirking a brow at the sight and words that soon followed. Surprise consumed the majority of her expression until a small chuckle bubbled up her throat. Perhaps this was just how he was with everyone and she hadn't realized until that night she was made to feel uncomfortable. Somewhat of a relieved sigh escaped from her as she folded her arms behind her back this time, giving Hal a few quick nods as she tried to control the enormous smile that was begging to sweep across her face. "I.. didn't tell Allasticus much. As I said ah-.. Figured I would leave that up to you, y'know?" She shrugged her shoulders lightly before turning away from the pair to begin collecting her bags, already packed. Of course, they were stuffed more with snacks than actual useful items.

Giving an even deeper exhausted sigh, Hallistus couldn't help but snicker at Zalaena. Of course she wouldn't tell him either. "Well... its hard to start really, but in a very abriged fashion, I'll admit... It was hard for me to tell you. Look, Allasticus... I'm dying. Zal helped me prolongue it, but the time has come. I can't wait. I wish, I could explain more, but I was late along by the time she helped me... Please. Just understand." There was a desperation clear to his expression and urgent voice, practically pleading despite the constant smile. Still, after the rant he'd find himself leaning, chest heaving with heavy breath. Rolling so his shoulders sat firm against the wood, and taking a moment before continuing. "Zal... take it over from here... I just can't." Body arching forward, his hands would lock against his knees. A slow recuperation in progress.

Allasticus gave the pair of them a rather deep frown. "I do not appreciate being kept in the dark on matters that I am supposedly being apart of" he flicked his gaze between the two with a measure of irritation but sobered himself when Hal spoke. He didn't give away any emotion as he looked upon Hal, in fact his gaze looked exactly as if he were standing at the post within the Row. Once he doubled over the Warrior furrowed his brow and then began to follow in Zal's footsteps, waiting until she finished her packing before sifting through her luggage and removing the more delectable snacks and subbing them for small weapons, a lighter, and several other bits and bobs that were more akin to a long trip. He then glanced over at Hall for a moment, ensuring the man hadn't full collapsed before he looked to Zalaena, waiting intently for that explanation.

Zalaena stood on her toes, watching Allasticus carefully as he seemed to assess what she had packed and when he had begun removing all of the wonderful snacks she had prepared for them, her brows furrowed and a slight grunt rose in her throat. She knew he wasn't exactly.. in the wrong but dammit she had worked hard on those! When he had finished she swiped the back away from him, adjusting the strap over her shoulder as her tongue poked out at the warrior and she chuckled lightly. When her attention returned to Hal, worry crossed her expression and within a few short steps she was at his side, placing a hand on his shoulder as she bent to get a better look at him. "...If y'need help walkin' you know I don't mind", she murmured before straightening her posture and turning back to Allasticus. "I.. still don't fully understand it myself but.. he's managed to get a curse placed on him and apparently the only way we can help alleviate that is by going to Ulduar." She shrugged lightly, fully aware how vague everything had been and that she didn't exactly understand the situation she was leaping into but.. she just wanted to see her friend better and that was all that really mattered to her.

Giving a loud groan, Hallistus straightened up. It was clear to him, he hadn't been the most honest. Sighing, the elf would push up from against the wall. Taking several long breaths, he'd smile rather pleasantly. A small inward note to himself that they were as ready as they needed to be. "For the moment, it'll have to do. You'll just have to trust me." Sighing, he'd step forward, setting his hands on the two. "What we're looking for there is--" His words would be cut off by a feeling of disorienting distortion. Arcane magics crackled as the night once more became still. This time, with him they would enjoy the sensation as they vanished. The shortest moment of pain racked with a near drunken stupor, as if taking ages but then finished within the blink of an eye. They would not see the flash of light or hear the thunder, but suddenly find themselves underneath the great gates of Ulduar. Snow pelting down at them, howling winds cutting a chill air as a razor through flesh.

Finding himself shivering, Hallistus stepped forward underneath the titan-forged archway, treading through the snow... and only becoming louder, picking up right where he'd left off. "-The dragon that cursed me! In works with the other who imprisoned me! Some things, Allasticus are too hard to explain! Do not expect me to start now, brother!" Arms reaching out to his sides in the storm, he'd keep forward... mind urging him, reminding him to keep walking... every fiber of his being dedicating to the effort.

Allasticus moved to grab his weapons and strapped his sword to his side, the amor he grabbed from wherever Hall had put it and began to inspect it meticulously, ensuring everything was there. He then watched as Zal moved to Hal's side and frowned at the sight of him. "You should be heading to the Spire..." he muttered "not galavanting off on some excursion." He completed his inspection and fitted the chest piece on before snapping on his gauntlets, the leg plates were strapped on with such regimented efficiency one would think he had practiced putting his amor on over and over again. He rose to his full height as Hall put his hand on them. Opening his mouth he moved to respond... and found his surroundings suddenly shift from warmth to frigid cold. Immediately his blood flow changed, shifting so that warmth would cascade through his fingers and toes, fighting the numb feeling that assaulted him. "Damn you!" he cursed, his head spinning slightly from the sudden transport - it was a little known fact that Alla had a large displeasure of travelling through portals let alone being surprised with a relocation. He moved to Zal and looked over her attire before sparing Hal a spiteful glance.

Zalaena blinked at Allasticus in a slow manner when he spoke of the Spire. She figured that was just.. common sense. Surely Hal would have already tried that, right? Once Hal had straightened his posture she stepped to the side, grabbing her blades from a small side table before turning to look for her armor. Always running late, this one. Once she had spotted her boots she dashed towards them, quickly slipping them on as she held onto Allasticus with a single hand, trying to maintain her balance though she was quickly finding herself becoming ill. Was the room spinning? The drastic change in temperature felt as if she had the wind knocked out of her and as her mouth hung agape, her fingers curled into Allasticus' shoulder. She hadn't even finished affixing her second boot, foot still held high in the air while her fingers worked at it's latch. "Wha-..." Her voice was cut off by a quick gust of wind, the frigid air once again taking her breath away and she immediately pulled her hand away from Allasticus' armor, fearful her hand may end up frozen to the plate itself. "H-H...Hal.." She lifted both of her arms, crossing them over her chest as her hands began rubbing at the bare skin on her arms, her tiny frame vibrating with the frosted assault. "You're k-k-kidding, right? You're..." He was walking away? Nope. He wasn't kidding. Tremor filled digits fell into the opening of her satchel, riffling through it's contents until she could find some sort of shelter for her body and eventually she removed a small linen blanket. It wasn't much, but it would provide at least some protection from the elements as she wrapped it snuggly around her shoulders. She glanced up towards Allasticus, giving him a rather apologetic look but what else could they really do other than follow him at this point?

“I know, friends! Suffering comes at times, but we must ease it to move forward! Forward, is the only direction now." A soft hum came to him, his knees shaking, but continuing until they'd come to a stairway downwards. An open field before them filled with old broken, some salvaged siege equipment. Turning about, he'd descend the stairs with a strange grace. "We need not worry too much. The Titanforged and Brann Bronzebeard have long slain the evils here. Halls an empty hollow shadow of them former selves." Laughing, it was like he didn't even hear their words or concerns... their glares and anger clear, but ignored. As he spoke, in their sight would come the staging ground for Brann Bronzebeard's expedition. Old war machines scattered and strayed in a macabre wear. Half didn't look functional and the other half appeared frozen, rusted with time Tents still standing, though mostly gone... "It has been SO long since these Halls have opened. I knew there was a reason she would hide here... but it wasn't clear until now. IF YOU NEED A COAT FIND ONE! DO I NOT PROVIDE!?" He'd snicker, Eyes falling on a mechano-hog... he'd excitedly walk towards it while spinning around once more to talk to them while walking away.

"Little known fact is that during the conflict in Ulduar, Bronzebeard had no clue he was the equivalent to a man meeting his god. The creation of these machines a beautiful allusion to the Titanforged's own machinations. Its beautiful how ingenuity seems to be the true force pushing the world forward." Still in the cold, it was curious how he'd stopped shivering. Sitting on top of the bike, he'd twist the ignition, black smoke coughing out the back... but it'd slowly churn into functioning.

"Either of you know how to drive one of these?!" His eyes would open wide with wonder... staring off, as he'd just noticed he hadn't been paying... any attention to what they'd been doing.

Allasticus returned Zal's look with a deepening frown, though it wasn't EXACTLY directed at her - moreso at the situation. He moved to her windward side and used his bulk to shield her from the chilled winds as best he could. He took one hand and unclasped his gauntlet before doing the same to the other. His calloused fingers reached in each gauntlet and removed the inner lining within. Both were hand-sized to All's palm and both wouldn't fit too well but it was better then nothing as he placed both inner linings into Zals palms. "Wear those, cross your arms and place your fingers under your armpits" he half said, half ordered "it is the warmest part of your body as of right now." He then began to move with Zalaena towards Hallsticus, staring up at the man with a hint of displeasure. There was a series of expletives that he would have uttered to him but instead he found himself becoming engrossed in their surroundings. "It's been awhile..." he muttered, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his weapon "plenty of blood has been spilled here.." there was a hesitant glance at Zal as he said those words. Finally, he eyed the chopper that Hal had mounted and found his own gaze migrating to another one not far from it. "I've driven once or twice... though I prefer the living steed over the mechanical one."

Zalaena blinked at Allasticus a few times when the lining had been handed over and she had even started to shake her head to refuse the offer until she realized the man would probably force them onto her hands if he had to. She didn't want to take away whatever warmth it was that he had, despite the amount. Hesitantly, she accepted them and stuff them onto her hands before readjusting the blanket around her shoulders so she could comfortably tuck her fingers beneath her armpits as she had been instructed. Her eyes shot back to Hal when he had started yelling and she found herself wondering if the man had fully lost his mind but the sight of the siege engines and choppers as they had begun their descent down that staircase had drawn her attention. Her head tipped backwards, getting a better look at the large gates they had stepped to before falling to a few towers off in the distance.

Her frown deepened with Allasticus' mention of blood being spilled but as another gust of wind lashed against her body, her thoughts were quickly pulled away. An involuntary grunt forced it's way up her throat as her arms shifted, drawing the blanket more taut against her shoulders as they approached the bikes. Zalaena's footsteps came to a sudden stop as she stared at one, nodding slowly with Hal's words. "I was g-g-going to build one f-f-or..." Her nose wrinkled and she shook her head. It really didn't matter now. "I kn-know how, as well" she stuttered, closing her eyes momentarily as she tried to picture a nice toasty fire. "Blood in the name of good! The Titanforged needed to be cleansed! Algalon set back from whatever celestial plane he came!" Hopping off of the mechano-hog's seat and easily sliding into the side-car, despite not being dressed... and shivering, he showed no signs of feeling the cold true. His heart was pounding so hard, it could be seen through his linen shirt, chest heaving for breath from the cool cutting wind, yet he smiled like a mad man. Waving them over, he'd call, "Well, whichever one of you drives, we need to move! Can't you see she's freezing to death?" He'd gesture towards Zalaena.

Lip curling beneath his teeth, he'd look into the distance, his earrings clanging about wildly when positioned against the wind. "Besides... I don't like hallowed grounds." The words would come out quietly, Hal's eyes meeting Zalaena's. The lunacy would pause for a moment, lost in some thought, eyes glossing over... Suddenly snapping back, he'd kick his legs up onto the side-car dash. Fingers trembling, he'd still outstretch his arms into the air. Giving a yawn, and feigning a bored glance as he'd peer over them... waiting.

She grunted faintly with Hal's ramblings and the mention of her freezing to death, but when he had slipped off from the seat and that side-car actually registered in her head she was quickly moving towards it. She hopped up into that sidecar with Hal, twisting and contorting herself enough that she could fit beneath his legs, curled up under the dash of the side car. Was it practical? Probably not, but it at least gave her a bit more shelter from those howling winds. Looked like Allasticus was going to have to be their chauffer today. Zalaena quirked a brow when Hal had looked at her, wondering what meaning could lie behind his words but she was all too cold to fully let herself worry about it now. She pulled the blanket high up over her head as she settled into her little frozen conclave.

Allasticus caught the look as well, his own eyes narrowing somewhat at Hall's behaviour. But they were stuck here and Hal was probably the only person who could get them out. He didn't move right away as Zal slipped into the sidecar but instead looked down at his fingers, curling them and loosening them in a meticulous manner. The blood flow did its word and surged to his finger-tips though he did well to keep the wild look in his eyes at bay. Finally he stepped forward and took up the drivers seat of the bike. The contraption didn't require keys but rather, had a button for the ignition. "Direction?" he said, raising his voice enough to be heard over the wind as he gave a cautionary glance towards Zal. He then pressed the button and let the engine roar to life. Taking his grip to the throttle he revved it several times until the machine had shook loose the ice and snow that had encapsulated it.

Adjusting properly so Zalaena could nestle herself in near him, he'd raise his brows at her several times, with a wicked smirk. "Comfy, no?" Head lazily tilting up to Allasticus, as he'd seem lost for a moment. "Direction? In life? Well... you see... I find it to be more of a path made than a road already traveled. You never really know where you'll be... or what will come." Sighing deeply, he'd cross his arms over his chest... At least some alleviation from the tremors... helped stop them at least. Pointing ahead towards the small valley between them and Ulduar... the towers that once stood now in scatters across the great plateau, siege machines crashed against the bases of several. Splintered pieces of Vanir dwarves, their stone faces and fists painted a myriad of death across a long abandoned world. The great gates within seeming so far away on the other end, Hallistus would grin, an uncontrollable grin. "There, Allasticus! We're going inside... Just don't slow down! No matter what!" He'd reach up and pat the man on the shoulder, adjusting in his seat... hands coming tight onto the panels of the side car. His eyes would turn towards Zalaena before him, wild... excited, afraid?

Allasticus rolled his eyes and gave a loud, orc-like snort. He then gauged Zal for a few moments before shifting the bikes gears - there was only two settings it seemed: "stop" and "go". Simple enough. The bike roared to life and kicked forward in a jolting manner. The Warrior seemed to adapt quickly to the rough start and soon they were plowing through the snowy environment. His eyes squeezed shut and opened periodically as wind, sleet and snow assaulted his form. "Hold on" he barked over the wind as they careened down the valley. A loud snort could be heard from beneath the blanket when Hal had gone on to speak of his idea of 'direction' and a shaky hand poked itself out to give him a light pinch against his calf. Sick.. dying.. it mattered not. She was freezing and in no mood for sass. Had she have dressed more properly for the occasion she would have been excited to take in all the sights Ulduar had to offer, and perhaps even get her fingers in each abandoned piece of machinery, taking whatever small souvenirs she could to complete projects back at home. The word 'inside' had her sighing in relief, at least until her head smacked backwards against the dash with Allasticus'... less than grateful start. She grunted in discomfort, bringing her hand to rub at the sore spot as she settled back into her cramped reprieve of the biting cold.

As they'd pick up speed the wind would become worse, but it was not as horrid at least not being forced to walk through it. The bike roaring, sound echoing over the open space and across the mountainside. Hallistus, despite the speed worked his legs underneath himself, squatting on his seat before standing and gripping Alla's shoulder for support. The man was a boulder anyways. He'd scream at the top of his lungs, no words, just a shout at the world... laughing before an arm extended outwards to expel flames into the air above, he'd come to lower again... eyes turning to the world about them nervously. Upon further inspection... and the further they came through the wreckage it would become clear why his anxieties were flared. From the rubble of the machines rose mangled frozen corpses. As more of them crawled out from the earth, their horrific moans and macabre gaunt screams became more audible. Still, Hallistus smiled brightly, sitting back rather casually as they careened on through. "Keep going! Don't slow down, friend!" A small chuckle leaving him, as he'd extend his torso out of the side-car... leaning back and reaching out to burst one of the corpse's head off with a jolt of arcane energy. Sliding back in, his legs would come to either side of Zalaena.

He'd lean forward, speaking loudly enough for her to hear... but a comparative whisper to the howling winds and outside world. "Don't kill me for this... Trust me. Everything is going to be..." He'd reach out for her shoulder. The same feeling she had when they'd arrived would once again sweep over her nerves... Arcane magics sounding with a hard thunder beside Allasticus... Gone, again. Alone in the howling winds, flying through the valley slowly filling with the dead... Allasticus plowed towards the gates. From the plateau above, down a long path of stairs after the mechano-hog rode two Acherian deathchargers, their riders with weapons drawn now coming to a full sprint...

Hallistus coming forth into the world gave a loud sigh, sitting on the ground within the caverns already. Warm... the titan's technology surviving throughout the years to provide a glow, its walls lined with emblazoned energies surging through its massive system. "...Alright. Allasticus will be fine." Allasticus kept his grip on the handles firm and tight though the wind was finally bearing its way through and a frost began to settle upon his knuckles. He barely registered Hall's words that were spoken before he snapped his gaze to the first meandering corpse that rose from the wreckage. "Damn you..." he growled before pushing the to its limit while swerving through the bodies that began to rise. He released one handle and drew out his blade, sweeping it from side to side as he scythed through the dead - so enamoured with his task at keeping them in bay that he didn't register Hal and Zal disappearing on him. He heard the pop, felt the same arcane magics swirling around him and braced himself to be moved as well. When nothing happened and he realized he was alone, he began to contemplate with which blunt object he would beat Hall with first. There was little time to dwell upon it as he glanced at the two death chargers barreling down upon him.

He grimaced at a silent realization and then closed his eyes. They opened a moment later this time carrying with them a set of lich-fire that intermingled with his celadon hues. Allasticus turned his eyes towards one Charger and gave it his focus. "My my... " he said, speaking in a voice that wasn't is "aren't you ever so often in the direst of straits.."  It was then that several ghouls clawed their way up from the ground not far from him. Their speed was immeasurable as they moved with such swiftness that they bypassed Allasticus and barrelled straight into the Chargers. The horses were sent into a tumble as their riders were thrown through the air. Allasticus barely heard the impact as he crashed through the gates just as his eyes returned to their original color. A loud smash followed by an equally loud crash echoed through the halls as the bike careened through the gates. A measured set of rubble then greeted him, the uneven terrain suddenly jolting Allasticus from his seat and sending him hurdling into the waiting maw of Ulduar.

Whatever injury sustained from the crash would more than likely be worsened immediately. Despite escaping the riders, from within the halls of Ulduar reached a long snare of dark energy ripping at Allasticus, making sure he didn't fly too far... but whipped even harder into the ground. A snarl sounded, the source an Acherian, his lichfire eyes burning bright... skin frosted to contrast against his ebon hair. Black armor etched with glowing violet runes, clad in his Tabard of the Ebon Blade. He drew the harsh and twisted sword from his back, the runes upon it glowing the same violet. "You should not have come here, Love" He spoke, expression still mostly lost beneath his dark hood. Charging towards the disoriented warrior, and slashing downwards with a  mighty cleave.

Zalaena couldn't help but peak her head out once more when she had heard Hal screaming. A brow lifted on her forehead as she squinted up at him, trying to get her vision to focused despite the whirring winds and snow that were not pelting her in the face. Just as a precautionary measure for his own safety, she curled her fingers into the materiel of his pants leg, fully ready to yank him back into that side cart should he lose his footing. It was the sounds of the dead crawling back to life that had her head lifting further up from the floor of the sidecar so she could steal a few quick glimpses around the place. There were so many. Swallowing hard she tossed a nervous glance up towards Allasticus and then settled her gaze on Hal when he had begun speaking to her. Don't kill him? What reason could she possibly have to want to -kill- him?

There was a sudden sinking feeling in her chest as she felt that familiar, dreadful spinning in her head. "N-... No! Hal!" she shrieked but it obviously wouldn't have any effect on the situation. She couldn't deny that she was at least grateful to be out of the snow.. though when they had finally made their 'landing' she was quickly turning towards Hal with an angered expression. "How could y'just leave him like that? And.. and why didn't we just come -here- in the first place Hal?! That's so-..." She trailed off. "So..." Her head whipped around and then fell backwards as she stared up into the massive ceiling of the chamber they had appeared in. When it finally lowered once again, her entire body jolted with a fleeting fear she may fall through the floor. Cautiously, she gave it a few small taps with the toe of her boot, arms lifting to begin rubbing away at the lingering chill in her bones as a questioning look was given towards Hal. "-Why-?" Her shriek made his ears lay flat along the sides of his head, eyes looking somewhat sad. Still, Hallistus was clearly warming up some inside... his skin still red, maybe even frostbitten, but he cared not. Hallistus calmly watched her glare, smile coming as her attention was stolen by the scenery, he took to inspection himself. "I know... its lovely. The TItans had such a way with engineering. Odd... that now I understand so much of it." A feigned ignorance shattered, meeting her sad eyes.

"Well... The truth, then... I suppose." Nervously laughing, he'd step over to her slowly, body shaking with each action recovering from the cold some. Arm coming about her, Hallistus would lean against her with his weight some... the added warmth bringing no complaint as he slowly paced her forward with his hobble... more towards the center of the floor. As if she should still casually accept the motion...

Licking his lips, Hal's free hand rose to clean the ice and snow from his goatee. "I was born to Tyranus Val'Iridash. An elf of Silvermoon..." Despite the odd beginning, there seemed to be no joke in his expression. "A life with a father who despised me... a mother who died as my brother was born. We then lost our father as well. Lost our way, joined the army of Kael'Thas and marched to Outlands. I regret much... but I worked to change it. I left in the night... the same night my brother tried to kill me, which... makes sense now." A chuckle rang from him, recalling what seemed to be good memories...

"I reconciled my life, became more... and was taken by a Bronze Dragon... you know some of that bit." He'd wave it off, continuing on as they neared their goal. "From there my life spiraled... a normal man imprisoned by such vicious situation. Then... the day I killed him... I found out. As his body caved into a wreck, slowly becoming a husk... I could feel my body fill with pain. Energies crashing into me. I didn't understand..." Looking up about the room, expectantly, he tried to hasten his words. "I found more... those I found out were my brothers and sisters. My mind... falling apart as my body decayed. I'm here... because I need to find my true mother, and ask her... if she can forgive me and fix this." Head nodding, he'd whisper something incoherent quietly... rambling to himself. "I left him... because there is an old friend... a treacherous man who is hunting me. Trying to stop me... Which, I cannot blame him for. Allasticus will be safe, and is much stronger than he..." A guilty stare, he'd push apart from her, finally seeming to have finished his rant. True pain painted on his face, "I... just... didn't know I was dying the more I killed... I thought I was fixing this. I don't want to die, Zal..."

"My life was never my own... I can't even remember the things I heard about who I am... do you know how that feels? I am Halecgos... and my mother... Shemsagosa... I feel more... insane as I ponder on it. Some told me she sang at night... as if it were yesterday for them, but I... I was bound to flesh... cursed by my makers. Given strife and pain... I don't want to die..." Tears in the corners of his eyes would form, the truth leaving him bare.

She made a few more taps with her foot against the floor, still not fully trusting the supposed solidity that it held while her hands worked furiously to bring some warmth back to her skin. "Yknow how to do things like this?" she asked quietly, flicking her gaze back to Hal before turning herself around to peer around what more of the room she could see. The arm around her bothered her little as the added warmth was welcomed and had even unwound the blanket from her shoulders to place it across his as well, leaning on him as he spoke. She was still angry, however and as he began moving her towards the certain of the room, she was once again bombarding him with questions about Allasticus' well being and why on Azeroth they hadn't just teleported to this room in the first place.

When he had seemingly ignored all of that, she grunted in frustration and closed her eyes as she listened to him speaking, leaning onto him as shivers still rattled her frame. She listened intently, trying to follow allow as best as she could but it was once he had spoken of Bronze Dragons, once he had mentioned the pain he felt, his brothers and sisters - that was when he had fully lost her. Her head began to shake, lips parting as she wanted to tell him to explain further, though he only continued on with the story. Her eyes snapped open as he mentioned Allasticus and pulled away from her. "H-how can you be so sure that he'll be 'safe'? Y'don't know what's going on out there and.." Her eyes lowered against her head, glancing towards the direction she figured the door to this chamber lay. The realization at what he had just said to her caused her eyes to widen and she took a step closer towards him despite whatever distance he had placed between them. "...Y'killed people?" she asked quietly, canting her head to the side. "Hal... I don't want you to die either but.. the -fuck- is goin' on, yeah? Why are we-..." She trailed off in silence. Somehow it all seemed to click in that crazed little mind of hers before he had offered his own explanation. She stared at him wide-eyed for quite some time until she slowly lowered herself to the ground, her gaze staring off absently as she tried to process everything. "This is insane", she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Allasticus had felt this sensation before. As the tendrils snapped about his arms and legs he immediately went limp. The force of hitting the ground spread throughout his body and drew a grunt from the Warrior. The impact still cause the room to spin and he took a moment or two to gather his bearings. IT was the voice that managed to snap his focus in check. His eyes looked towards its source, not quite believing who it was for a moment. His hand fell to the hilt of his blade and he drew it forth as the Deathknight made his charge. A hard swing upward had the edge of his weapon meeting Din's. A loud clang of metal echoed through the halls. Battle fury surged through the Warrior as he felt a mixture of confusion and betrayal at a man who he had bestowed his trust to not a day before. The adrenaline surged forth as he pumped his arms and parried the blade over and to the side. Both weapons were preoccupied for the moment and Alla took that moment and the opening to throw his shoulder forward, aiming to boulder over the Deathknight entirely.

As Dinendal met Alla's blade there was a second of confusion as the man's strength not only held but threw his aside. Eyes growing wide, he'd already begun to spin the sword about in his hands, but was met with the warrior's pauldron. Off-balance, and already mid-charge, Dinendal slammed hard onto the ground. Snarling, he'd roll to retrieve his blade and come to a stand, "You betray us! I had faith!" The acherian screamed, lichfire in his eyes bright, voice distorting as the echoes repeated themselves about the great hall. Amandil's voice roared with a piercing sound, a harsh torrent of frost loosed from his lips as a howling wind. Its force sharp, the wind sending small bits of disorienting shrapnel from the gates... Once stopping, his arm would instantly outstretch again... the dark energies reaching out from his hand towards Allasticus' feet to pull, readying his sword for the gambit.

The echoes of the howling scream could be heard throughout Ulduar's halls, taking Hallistus' attention away from Zalaena for the shortest of moments. Stepping before her, he'd come to his knees to meet her eyes. The man becoming ever more pale by the moment... clearly dedicating much effort into the motion, a hand setting on her shoulder. "Insanity... is a perspective." His other hand would raise, fingers twirling as the pack from his belt would remove itself. The crystals he'd infused with energy floating outwards... every last one of them positioning themselves about their position on the translucent astral floor. Each one setting down, runes in the ground forming about them, a larger greater symbol forming as each set... His words droning on as he did so.

"I've saved many lives as a good man. I still am... the things I've done? A means. Life is fickle and fragile, I have felt the pain of it digging into my very soul as I hear the shattering of hearts from the lost souls about me. Dreams dying to and fro... love ebbing into darkness. Life is harsh, but I need to live Zalaena. I am the only being willing to truly do what it takes... Could you imagine life without death? I will summon her, the magic of this place and my own will bind her, and we will see the dawning of a new age." A small smirk comes to his lips as the rune would complete itself, lines forming between each stone, elaborately placed... eyes looking down as the smirk would become a grin. "We're here until this is done." A wall of arcane energy rose about its edges... becoming a prison for the two.

The maddening screams that echoed through the halls had Zalaena's head whipping around towards the chambers entrance with furrowed brows. Slowly, her ears lowered towards the sides of her skull as she began trying to climb back onto her feet, though she was somewhat horrified to find the motion shaky at best. Her muscles seized in her sudden panic and with a loud grunt, she was once again lowering back towards the floor, resting on her knees. "Hal, we need to help him!" She leaned forward, pressing her knuckles into the floor in an effort to keep herself propped up and disperse some of the weight from her legs, though the hand on her shoulder had her lifting her gaze towards his. His words had her shaking her head as she continued pleading with him though it was when the crystals had risen out of the bag and seemed to surround them that her pleas trailed off. Her eyes widened, immediately recognizing them and she began shaking her head as more confusion filled her head.

Most of what he was saying was still not being truly absorbed, only fueling her confusion further. Pulling a hand up from ground she curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, tightening her grip on him as she tried to calm herself. "S'the only thing I fuckin' got left, so y'better make.. whatever it is y'have me in this room for quick, yeah? Or just.. just -bring- him here, yeah? Hal, please. -Please-." When the walls rose around them she quickly released the hold she had on him, grunting loudly as she tried to stand on wobbling legs once again like fawn still trying to work out the laws of gravity. Angrily, she sprinted forward, aiming to shove her shoulder into the wall of arcane energies in an attempt to break through it though she felt no impact. Instead, she appeared behind Hal, stumbling in her footsteps before ultimately falling back onto her knees as her hands caught the rest of her fall. Another snarl escaped from her throat as her eyes lifted towards Hal once again and her voice rose, practically yelling at him this time around. "What are you -doing-?! Stop wasting time and tell me what needs to be done!"

"I betray no-one!" Allasticus roared in response, his blade spinning in his hand as he brought to the ready. "I do not desire your head, Dinendal, but I will claim it if you continue this-" his words were snapped from his lips as the energies would snap about his legs. His boots lifted as he pushed his thighs hard, throwing himself backward into a roll. The momentum had him at his feet as he bore his gaze back upon the Deathknight. Then he pushed his legs again, much harder. The Warrior propelled himself forward and landed not far from the Deathknight, the impending crash of his boots against the stone floor send a shockwave through the ground. Debris exploded from beneath his feet and the wave moved straight for Dinendal. "Where is she?!" he roared, anger surging through his voice as his words echoed throughout the room.

Force of from the shockwave was enough to throw Dinendal back onto the ground. The motion of which, as DInendal tried to react with his blade placed him awkwardly during the fall. His sword had been mid-motion spinning between his wrists to correct position, but now the blades of his hilt had dug deep between the plates of his armor from the back side. By the time his weight collapsed onto it, the small blade of the hilt was protruding from his front-side... having worked its way through him. An accident. A mishap. A misstep, yet there laid Dinendal... green ichor dripping from his body. Eyes looking down to the rend with utter shock. Only now seeming to catch his words. "She?... Where is Hal? Why... are you helping him?" Confusion caught the curiosity of his gaze, helplessly looking up at Allasticus, and not daring to move a single inch in response. "...What did he offer you?" Clenching his eyes closed, he seemed disoriented. "...The Astarium... I though the wards set by the TItans would have stopped him from entering. I... mus've been wrong, Love." Hands coming down to his sword, he'd try to remove it... making the wound all the worse... the IChor practicaly flowing from his gouge as a stream.

Hallistus listened to her command and words, perhaps only this once. Her urgency to get things over with was becoming annoying. Never could appreciate a good moment. He spoke words in a low whisper, growing louder... the still apparition of a great blue dragon forming. The only familiar word being ."Shemsagosa..." Though, as the beast was summoned there was no motion in it... held in some sort of stasis, one could only follow its eyes frantically searching. As Hal finished his chant, and stared at the scaled beast over them, he'd cackle once more. Unclasping his belt, he'd let the small swords at his sides fall onto the floor, one sliding from its sheath... yet he did not notice. "Mother! Reunited, at last. Your errant child!" Hallistus yelled up at the beast, but was given no response... other than the clear glance of fear that overtook the great blue dragon before them. "I am a man of my word though, a good man! SO... in turn... I ask forgiveness... for what I must do." A hand raised... his body shuddered as magics from the dragon seemed to tear from her flesh and come to a vortex, spiraling towards Hal's hand. A deep growl as the veins in his body pushed up against his skin, filling with a dark blue color. Gritting teeth and pain, The majestic dragon's body would slowly crumble and wither before Zalaena's eyes. Dying right before her, almost as quickly as the dragon had appeared... and as the incantation finished, its scales became ashes and dust... falling into the air about them. Appearance and death so rapid...

Hallistus dropped onto the ground. Body writhing in pain, as his fist would slam down several times. Growling as he tried to cope with the discomfort. "You want it done?" He'd groan out between breaths, slowly working to stand... Walking away from her some, the swords he'd left on the ground obvious in sight between the two. "BLood of the brother, blood of the loved. Blood of the mother, to blood we succumb." From one incantation to another, his veins surged... body cracking with the sounds of moving bones within. "Death albeit wicked goes on. M'guru N'gath. May the offering be worthy... Yogg-Saron." Hands extending out into the air, although turned away from her... he smiled. Arms above, Hal could smell it. Dinendal was dying. SHemsagosa gone... Allasticus harmed and wounded. Plans are made for a reason. Every motion following Dinendal learning the truth.

Allasticus's breathes came in hard and heavy. The desire to rip the Deathknight limb from limb was overwhelming but he remained still, trying to process the mans words. He could see his old friend's form slipping away slowly. "Don't move" he said, grunting out the words as he moved to the mans side and fell to one knee. "We are helping Hal because he asked... we were unaware of what was occurring behind the scenes, nor were we aware of any treachery." He flicked his gaze up, scanning the halls. "Where are they. What is Hal trying to do? The sooner you give me answers the sooner I might be able to delay your trip to the nether."

Bleeding all about the ground, the ichor had long begun to stain Alla's armor. Lichfire eyes ebbing in their intensity as the runes on his blade began to lessen in their glow as well. No breath, Dinendal's face rather calm despite it all. He looked at the ceiling, thinking... brow furrowing as he tried to process the world about him. "Last... I saw him... he took me... to..." He paused, seeming unable to think of it, eyes shifting to the ichor that only now began to slow in its pour. Awkward, no shuddering breaths.. Dinendal moved past it. "Yogg-Saron... is his answer." Looking down, he squints. "I thought being here could stop him... It helped him... I don't know who the fuck she is, love... Just go get'er and stop worryin'... I'm fin..." The syllable dropped, as the glow of his eyes faded into darkness.

With them... the moaning that was slowly oncoming of the undead horde fell as well. An army that had been mustered once more in defense of truth fallen again into the stone. A whisper filling Alla's head. "Your friends... will betray you. Kill them before they kill you." Its echo sounding as if from the hall to the Astarium itself.

Allasticus didn't register the voice echoing in the back of his mind. The observance of his friend passing before him filled him with regret, despite the necessity of it. Turning his head towards the inner sanctum of the chambers he furrowed his brow. His ears twitched as he heard the echoes of Hall and the sounds of the crackling arcane. "Bastard.." Allasticus muttered as he knelt down and closed Dinendals eyes. He then rose, readied his weapon, and bolted forward as his senses urged him towards the Astarium.

She could still hear the roars that echoed throughout the halls and chamber, but the definition of the words had been lost and it was nothing more than just.. noise to her. A low growl built in her throat as Hal's whispers continued and whatever patience she may have had was utterly lost. It was the realization that what appeared to be a dragon materializing above their heads that kept her from grasping onto the mans collar. Her jaw fell slack as she leaned backwards, sitting on her knees now as she stared at the beast in awe. Elven ears flickered with the clatter of swords falling to the ground but her eyes remained on the monstrosity and Hal's words had her stomach flipping. Mother? This had to be a nightmare. What else could possibly explain everything that was going on? She had summed up the conversation they had had while she attempted to make the man soup as nothing more than an interesting tale. A stretch. A very, very big stretch. Realizing what was unfolding before her, she rose to her feet and sprinted towards Hal's side, grasping onto his shoulder tightly as she spoke in a panic. "Stop! Y-you're killing her! You're..." Her words trailed off as the dragon began to crumble before her eyes. She had still been trying to process just -what- she was looking at and before it had even fully registered it was already being ripped away. Her thoughts were in absolute disarray as they attempted to sift through the vast amounts of confusion, worry for Allasticus, shock and awe, even sadness. It was an uncomfortable mixture, one that was making her physically ill as she collapsed with Hal.

Celadon orbs were as wide as saucers, gaze still fixated on the spot where the dragon had appeared and so abruptly met its end. Her grip had loosened on him, enough that when he had risen again her hand simply fell limp at her side. As the next incantation had started she lifted her hands, covering her ears as she began shaking her head, panicked breaths coming in rapid succession. With the utterance of 'Yogg-Saron', her hands were once again lowering to her sides, her voice cracking as she spoke. "What? -What-?!" It was only then that the word 'offering' ran through her mind and anger was flaring within her once again, coalescing with the troublesome mixture she had already been feeling. Fear amplified this further. Her eyes darted to the swords he had discarded onto the floor and the moment he had turned his back towards her she kicked of from the ground, swiping one up to use as her own as she stood behind Hal. She extended her bladed hand, tip pointed at the back of his head as her eyes narrowed, though her limbs were filled with tremors. She didn't want to hurt Hal, but if this wasn't a nightmare it was clear, to her at least, that the man had lost his fucking mind. "What have you done, Hal?" Her tone was lacking it's usual warmth, now cold and grim.

Zalaena's words pierced Hal's ears... Eyes staying closed as he writhed in the power. The sensation pulsing through him with a racking severe pain. Still, he stood... seeming ready for something more. "I have done nothing but set the board! The greatest and most memorable day of your life is the day -I- brought you here! The Titans are dead! The Naaru do not fight for you! The light is not here!" Turning about, he faced her blade and stepped towards it. Meeting her cold and grim intensity with a hot fury, "What do you know of the world?! Pain? Your man died, and now you find yourselves in the arm of an emotionless bulwark of flesh?! HOW YOU SUFFER!"

Taking hold of the blade, he'd guide it to his chest, pressing the tip through his shirt and letting it pierce through the first layer of flesh with an excited gasp. Eyes yet on her's, the fel green crackling with arcane fury. "A MISERY IT MUST BE! YOU DO NOT KNOW PAIN!" Hallistus whipped his head to the open gates to the hall, raising a hand... The wall dissipated, fading with the glow of the crystals and runes. "Kill me, or he dies." Steps sounded from the doorway... plate rattling as Allasticus stormed his way towards them. From Hallistus' hand formed  raw lashing volatile energy, the hand reaching towards the door, preparing to release the attack... the warrior coming ever more near. "DO IT!" His eyes would meet Zalaena's again, a certainty about it all as his lip twitched in place, still and flat.

Zalaenas expression hardened as he continued his ramblings, though her ears were now pressed firmly against the sides of her skull as her body was still cycling through the wide range of emotions he had struck within her. When he had turned she tipped her chin upwards, both her jaw and arm becoming tense in an attempt to stop the wavering of the blade but his following words had caused her vision to become clouded. In just a few short months her trust had been betrayed by two out of the three people whom she had always sworn would never do such a thing and despite everything else, that was what held the sharpest bite. She pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth with enough force that it wouldn't have surprised her if she had displaced a tooth or two while her grip only tightened around the hilt of the blade. She wanted to scream. To lunge at him. To flail the unfamiliar weapon about wildly but... Her upper lip drew into a sneer as she bit back her tears, nose wrinkling with the effort. "I trusted you," she hissed behind clenched teeth.

A strained grunt rose in her throat when he had grasped onto the blade, though she kept her position locked into place, unwilling to back down as she hoped he would snap out of this. Or that she would just... wake up. "Don't." The word had been released in a gravelly plea and as he stepped into the blade her eyes closed, sending twin trails down her cheeks. Her fingers twitched against the hilt of the sword as it pierced his flesh, her mind working in overtime now as it tried to deny her the enjoyment and satisfaction such a feeling brought. It was so much better than rotted Forsaken flesh, after all. Swallowing hard, her eyes opened once again to meet his though it was becoming increasingly harder to ignore the crimson that was now spilling out over the sharp edge of the blade and then the scent hit her nose. The tremors returned to her arm as she struggled to keep herself in place, struggled to keep what little control she had left.

She watched through her peripherals as the prison she had been locked in faded away, watched the door to the chamber open. Any sense of freedom was short lived as he spoke the ultimatum, the sound of those familiar footsteps causing her heart to sink. When he had raised his hand to that door, when he had made it clear he was damn well ready to release whatever attack it was he had been preparing, Zalaena was lost. A guttural scream came from the small Sin'dorei as her free hand lifted to grasp onto the hair at the nape of his neck and she jerked him roughly to the side in an attempt to send his aim off course and within the second she was plunging the sword deep into his chest. Slender digits unwound themselves from the hilt of the blade, though she wasn't exactly done. Grasping onto one of the daggers that hung by her hips, she ripped it free from it's attachment and attempted to send the serrated blade into his abdomen and if she had made it that far ~ she wouldn't stop at just one. Flesh and organs would be pierced repeatedly while the grip at his neck grew tighter with each passing second.

Her fear brought the flick of tongue over teeth, a deep growl filling him. Reeling through her actions, the moment the threat was made... she reacted. A powerful bolt of arcane energy blasting into the floor. Its energies surging across its shining surface. The first blade piercing his chest, a pained groan sounding... hollow. Smile shining bright across his face, perhaps moreso than ever before. Each stab causing his body to jolt, eyes still glowing bright as he'd laugh. A choking... guttural laugh. Liquids exploded from Hal's mouth, dark red blood gurgling up to the side of his lips and pouring over as if a spilling cup. Dripping over the sides of his lips, Hal would raise hands to set upon the newly formed wounds as they came. Eventually beginning to feel hollow, a final sudden jolt of awareness, muscles spasming as he'd clench Zal's wrist. "Thank... you." The words bubbled with a true sincerity... pulling away from her hand to fall through the floor... Its integrity seeming to weaken slightly after the blast. Its glow, much like Hal's... yet slower. First the hole small within the center, slowly expanding from there inch by inch. The mage's body falling into the dark pits beneath...

The runes on the side of the room all glowing bright with the blue fiery energies he'd been using moments ago. Sounding of a thousand roars beneath... the sound of a brood of dragons screaming into the darkness, their noise filling the halls with echoes... at first nearly silent.

Allasticus tightened the grip on his weapon as he ran, no sprinted, through the halls until he reached the Astarium. The energies crackled and snapped about his person, drawing his gaze only briefly as he tried to process what was happening. The two figures of Zalaena and Hall could be seen, then he watched in wide-eyed fashion as her scream pierced his being and the blade plunged into Hals chest. The tauntings of Yogg-Saron amplified as the sight, the confusion, the rage, all of it came swelling up. Veins pushed against his skin as adrenaline surged through his core, all of this was unseen as he watched the scene unfold. The internal battle seemed never-ending for the Warrior.

Then he saw the blood. The blood spewing from Hal's lips, bubbling forth and then falling to the ground. He watched it with a slow, deliberate eye and began to make his way forward. Sounds of battle echoed in the back of his mind, voices called out for him to prepare for an attack. Swarms of enemy soldiers descended upon him. He roared, brought his blade at the ready and swiped it through the air. He pushed his leg muscles hard and sent himself propelling to the edge of the hole just as Hal's body vanished within it.

The organs, the gore, the blood... all of it fell away, all of it out of reach. He wanted it, wanted to bathe in it, taste it. His attention turned to Zal. There was a similar intensity burning within her but his mind betrayed him. She stole it. She stole his meal, took away his release. He stepped before her. Memories of their nights together, the times at the post, conversations, heart to hearts, all of it was pushed away as his hand snapped forward and fastened tightly around her neck. "I will rend you asunder from this world" he hissed, his words rasping harshly from his throat as he lifted the woman from the ground. He turned, hoisting her over the pit into the abyss and watched with cruel joy as she dangled precariously above oblivion.

Whether or not those above would realize, Hallistus would feel himself enveloped in the cold black. The falling felt never-ending. Body filled with magics and energies not his own, the elf wished to scream... but could not. Tricked or fooled, it no longer mattered. Everything was fading, blood filling lungs. Choking. Yet, on the precipice of the abyss... he felt relief. Roaring far below... as his body began to shift. Life filling him anew with pain, the cracking of bones within. Flesh ripping apart as scale took its place... falling.... The Sin'Dorei's cry of death shifting into a draconian rasping horror with every harsh screech... falling.

There was a fury in Zalaenas eyes that brandished her murderous intent and yet... she had begun sobbing. Her chest wavered with each rattled breath, thoughts being shredded between two extreme opposites as her playtime was plagued with a gnawing desire to protect him, to help him. It was something she never wanted to experience twice and for the past year and a half she had been working diligently to make sure of that. It was all for naught, it seems. The words she had spoken so confidently to Allasticus, thinking she could make a difference. She was no better. What good is a heightened sense of control if you still harm those close to you?

It was that gnawing which had her fighting against her own movements, struggling to slow the thrusts of her arm, unwilling to concede to the fact that she -wanted- this. She wanted to kill him and it fucking terrified her. A loud, anguished cry resonated throughout the chamber as blood began to pour from his lips and she was stricken with a fleeting feeling of regret. Just as quickly as it had come, the ache of hunger had cast it aside like a piece of trash and she was snarling at Hal, twisting the blade until she felt his hand on hers and heard his spoken thanks. Angrily, she shoved him away, using the time to swipe her tongue across the center of her saturated palm, indulging in the sample he had so graciously offered to her. Her dagger was carelessly tossed away, something she saw little need in now as she readied herself to pounce - to sink her teeth within his throat.

Taking in the full sight of the damage she had caused to his body had another strained growl rising, bloodied hands grasping at the sides of her head and she bowed forward, trembling with her mental affliction. When her gaze had finally begun to return to Hal, she watched through dampened orbs as he tumbled over the edge, frightened that her heart may burst with the sight. The notion that he was gone, that she had a hand in his death had her scrambling towards the edge of the pit, peering over the edge with a twisted expression, rasping out his name. It had been enough to lull the trance she had been involuntarily forced into though she had only been able to inhale a few choked breaths before she felt herself being lifted from her feet and she realized what was still to come. A faint sob slipped past her lips as both hands came to grasp around his wrist. All that remained of her inhumanity were splatters of crimson, a sickening reminder of what she had just done - something she would never fully be able to scrub clean no matter how hard she dug at her skin. Her eyes only held remorse for her actions as she stared at the Spellbreaker, listened to his words, recognized the look in -his- eyes. She’d have to be quick. There was no room for hesitation. The grip on her throat made it nigh impossible to speak, let alone breath. Instead, she closed her eyes, speaking to him through the device she had gifted him. Her words would sound much smoother this way, anyway. Perhaps even cheerful despite the absolute heartache in her expression. “...I’m so… so grateful for the time I spent with you… but I won’t let you do this. I refuse to be remembered as a regret.”

For the briefest moment a faint smile touched her lips, though it was short lived as her right hand crossed over his arm, grasping onto the ridge of his palm as she conjured up what strength she had left to twist his arm with all her might, causing his elbow to roll and thus… his grip to release. “This won’t hurt so bad in a few years, yeah?” Her words hadn’t been meant to be bitter. What could only be described as a chuckled sob escaped from her as she plunged into the unknown, awaiting what she could only assume would be her undoing. She couldn’t bare the thought of him blaming himself. The trip had been her idea, after all. Zalaena needed him to remember the words he had spoken to her during her darkest nights, to not dwell on what happened here and her gut told her that if he had been cause of her demise - he would never find peace. The physical scars she had left in Nikklaus still tormented her, they still visited her nightmares - it still weighed on her mind every time she looked at him and he had -lived-. She refused to be the cause of such misery in Allasticus’ life.

He wanted to kill her. He wanted to rip her bones from her body and bare witness to her bloody heap of a body in his hands. Desire, rage, confusion, fear, all of it coursed through him, all of it not making sense. The grip around her neck began to tighten, began to shore away any hope for life for the smaller Rogue. Then she spoke. Like a pebble falling against glass, the uncanny rage ebbed if only for a moment. The familiar voice pierced his senses and memories flooded back - conversations, nights, days.. all of spent together in some bonding moment or another. He lingered on these thoughts, watched them and embraced them as his eyes closed. Tears broke through his wall, glistened beneath his eye lids as they held the emotion at bay. "What.." was all he could say before he felt his wrist being twisted and his grip falling slack. Her last words screamed in the back of his mind. "No!" he roared, falling down to his knees and reaching down to the abyss, trying to grasp at any strand of the woman as she tumbled from sight. He lurched forward, trying to throw himself after her. However something held him back, something took control of his limbs and willed them to remain stationary. He knew the source, he knew his kin wouldn't see him fall to his death.. yet he did not care. He fought hard, trying to find some manner of going to a place where he could not follow her. Limbs gave away, weakness coursed through him as he fell onto his back.

Hard, heavy breathing could be heard in the stillness at that moment. His chest rose and fall in hard, laboured breathes as his energy ebbed and flowed. Allasticus then roared, he yelled at nothing, screamed in a bellowing manner that echoed throughout the halls. HIs voice carried, until his throat was raw and he broke. His mind snapped and became docile and still. His words were a faint whisper at that moment. "You were never a regret."

Tearing, Hallistus could feel it. The darkness never seeming to end. Falling for what felt like ages as he twisted in pain. The roars of his voice becoming more frequent. Everything felt... different. Wind seeming to catch against something... the act of shaping them to the wind torrents felt natural. Flexing as a large beating sounded, first fluttering slowly... Long neck extending before him. An amalgamation forming in the black... Flames ignited in the darkness, taking a moment for Hallistus to realize they were coming with his roar. It... happened. Pain vanishing, all left in its place was power... strength. Wings. They were wings. Spiraling in the air, Hallistus felt himself turn upwards, wings pounding against the fall. A slow lift forming. Up. The air was growing fresh. Further. Fighting against the long fall, the beast saw a falling thin shape. Loud chittering roar sounded once more, swooping downwards to catch the figure. A great claw reaching out to grasp her... As he neared only then would the sight become clear.

A behemoth of blue scales, black filling its horns and claws, red painted across the front of its maw spreading up until it stopped beneath his horns. Cool emerald eyes piercing through the black... its jaw opening to reveal teeth the size of Zalaena. Gently carrying the woman in its great palm, Life. Freedom. It was the only word to describe the sensation. He had heard none of their words... yet as he rose... the platform came into sight, the field of light that formed the floor above him... and alone laid Allasticus. Passing through it, his body would shimmer... Zalaena still held in place...

The large reptilian figure rose into Alla's sight, rather rudely dropping Zalaena onto the floor as it perched along side them. Four great claws setting into the field, head leaning low to set on their level. A monstrosity of a dragon, nearing the size of an aspect... Black spikes and ridges forming down its back on either side of a bronze ridge that trimmed the beast's spine. Setting into place, he'd give a final rumbling roar. Making a point to direct it at the warrior... The sight was monstrous, even its draconic face twisted and marred, deep lines like scars painting his hide. "Friends..." The beast's throat rumbled, the voice rising with a deep booming bass... "Settle... My children. How you must suffer..." Magic swept over the dragon, energies pluming from its body as its shape was lost... nothing but a Sin'Dorei man forming at their result... naked and exposed to the world... a bright smile over him, the pink of his flesh taking hue as he became solid. The scars were gone, no signs of his pain or curse. Healthy. Hand sweeping before his face with fascination in the action... Shimmering, a linen shirt free of blood, white and beautiful. Continuing until Hallistus was dressed as he came, the three golden hoop earrings forming at the end, clanging together... as he looked over his friends. A snicker filling him, rumbling in his chest... exuberance.

The roar of his voice, the sight of him reaching for her as she descended further into that pit of darkness was bittersweet. She had thought she failed him, that she had been wrong, that he couldn't be helped but as that image of him reaching seared itself into her thoughts, a contented smile spread across her lips as he fell out of sight. How strange to feel hopeful whilst sinking into a blackened pit. The whispered words drew a faint hum as she responded quietly. "Now you know, it's possible." Classic Zalaena to be throwing 'I told you so's at the worst times, but it brought her a genuine sense of peace. It made her impulsive decision all the more worth it and the only thing she could find herself regretting in that moment was that she couldn't say it to his face.

Her head fell to the side, trying to get a look beneath her as the roars and howls continued below but the energy to attempt twisting her body was lacking. The sudden pulses of fiery hues within the hazy darkness puzzled her at first, the sounds of large, fluttering wings consuming her senses as she struggled to keep her eyes open. The difficulty didn't last long as she suddenly felt her course of direction... shifting. Fel tainted orbs widened in the dark, a mixed panic and awe washing over her once again. There was another one? There was -another- one and it was -carrying- her. Was it saving her life or was it going to eat her? Her mind raced as she stared at the dragon, extending her hand as if she could reach its face. Her curiosity had her wanting to touch those scales, explore every inch of the unfamiliar creature but her body was succumbing to the immense amount of stress it had undergone. "Don't... hurt him, yeah?" she whispered. It was a shot in the dark. A hopeful plea to this magnificent being. Her eyes had begun to flutter, fighting back the exhaustion so she could continue admiring but it was a fight she wouldn't win as sleep took her. The impact of her body against the floor, the boom of Hal's voice drew no response from her and should this be something they remember - should Allasticus speak of the transformation, Zalaena would never stop begging Hal to let her bare witness to such a thing.

Allasticus lay on his back. The fight left him promply. For the first time he felt the weight of his weapon, the hindrance and effort it took to carry it and adorn his armour. He felt weak, spent, his energy gone from him. He called for death in his mind but was cut short, rejected as his very thoughts betrayed his desire. Zal's last words faded into a whisper int he back of his mind as he held onto them, believing that it was all he could hear. Then the buffeting of leathery wings made purchase upon his ears, the sound like a hard wind blowing away the chaos of the previous minutes. His head turned slightly, his eyes dulled and vacant as he looked at Zalaena's form being plopped down infront of him. Slowly, very slowly, he rose to a seated position and felt the power in the dragons words boom into his core. The Warrior lifted his gaze and looked at Halla and the sight of him, though great as it was, didn't warrant a reaction from him. He was clearly a shell of his former self.

((Alla:43 Zal:65)) (Mindwipe rolls)

Hallistus continued to bask in the moment... a beautiful relief he could not shake, yet the only sour taste seen in the state of his friends. Zalaena unconscious on the ground. "My dear friends..." Footsteps would take him slowly a drift towards the now sitting Allasticus. Eyes straight on the man on approach, lowering his head.... "I knew this would be arduous... but what a price you've paid." Sadness struck his eyes, and the core of his body. Kneeling before the bulwark of a man, Hallistus reached out a hand to gently touch Alla's face.

"It is over... You've saved me. I'm sorry for the lies. It was my only choice. I know my destiny..." Lips turning, Hal's eyes winced with the slight gathering of tears. Looking over the broken man's face. "I can't... fix everything. I can help you, though." Leaning, Hal would set his forehead on Allasticus' own. "Just know... Dinendal had to die. That is not your fault..." The hand on the side of Alla's head gripping the back of the man's skull. Teary eyes and warm embrace pulling away, his other hand raising... Magics channeling into the warrior's fel-ridden eyes. Blue fire crashing into the man. Memories seared away. Their trip becoming nearly a dream... fading away as Dinendal gave his final words. Everything after, including his dying breath blackness... empty. Not daring to take everything... only the pain. Keeping Alla still with a hold of steel... readying for whatever screams came.

A slight scream filled Hallistus, the sight of what had occurred rushing through his own head, as if it were himself. The anger and rage ferocious, Zal's throat feeling so fragile beneath firm grip. Releasing Allasticus, the painful magics were done running their course through him. Energy crackling in Hal's touch... allowing the man to fall into whatever pain-induced sleep followed.

Standing, he'd approach Zalaena... standing over the passed out woman. No need to brace her, simply repeating the process. Delving into her memories, Hallistus would feel his heart break further... the tears leaking uncontrollably as his hand trembled. Watching from her eyes as Hal ripped apart the majestic beast.... Ripping it from her mind. The Astarium... vanishing within her mind, and nearly every word and thing she'd seen within. Yet... as he pulled his hand away, the channeling ceasing... energies flicking back into his palm. She would dream... hearing the deep sound of beating wings beneath. The image of a great dragon in the darkness grasping her... why was she falling?

A moment spent dwelling on heartbreak forced the tears to leave as a wet and desperate sob. Hand raising to sweep over his face, taking a deep breath in... calming himself. Controlling his breaths slowly. Grasping one of her hands, Hallistus dragged the elf across the floor to Allasticus. A hand on each, thundering arcane magics whirled the world about them.

Home... the tree house. It did not take long for Hallistus to remove Alla's armor, using magics to lift the man into bed. Taking a while afterwards to polish and clean Alla's armor. It was only fair. Finally bringing his attention to Zalaena... magics undressing her instead, eyes turned away.

Lips straight... hoisting her and setting the woman in bed with the warrior. Setting a blanket over the two, he'd collect their bloody clothes. Taking a final long look to the two. "I love you, friends. I do. I know it may not be clear... I do it for you though. One day? I won't need to do this... these things anymore. One day I will use this strength to make things better..." He'd whisper as they rested in their exhausted sleep.

"I swear to you, friends." Vanishing as quickly as he'd first arrived... a silent night giving way to their slumber.

((THANK YOU FOR YOUR PARTICIPATION IN THE VENTURE TO ULDUAR! MY CURRENT RP AND CHARACTER WOULD NOT BE POSSIBLE WITHOUT YOU TWO! I LOVE YOU AND OWE YOU EVERYTHING! -roll credits- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xok6ryfD6CI -credit music-)) (( @allasticus Allasticus. @zalaena as Zalaena. @hallistus as Hallistus, Dinendal, Shemsagosa, and uhh... some other stuff. Produced by Melchat productions)) a

[couchcushings]

a mini update of my Trash Fic (tm) for @justastormie​ for putting up with me screaming about how Absolutely Adorable pete is in this interview

37

Van Helsing shivered in the bitter cold of the Hoia Forest. His long, red dressing gown was clearly not meant for a climate harsher than your average castle bedroom. He glanced at Rosie. She sat on a nearby log, wearing nothing but a thin cotton shift.

Her eyes were fixed on the horizon, searching for any sign of the moon. "Nervous," she asked, not bothering to look up.

"Could this still kill me?"

Her eyes flickered in his direction. "It could. So could the cold. So could your ex-girlfriend. The night is rife with unpleasant possibilities."

He pulled at his bandage. "I thought the whole purpose of our little training session in the upstairs sitting room was to ensure that the change wouldn't kill me."

She smiled. "I thought you already knew I just wanted to see your ass."

His eyes narrowed.

"No, no, you're right. It was mostly to prepare you for what you're about to go through. Earlier you had control, but now the moon does. And you don't change back until the moon says so." She stood. "It's almost time." She shrugged out of her cotton shift. Her skin took on an unnatural blue tinge in the growing light of the moon. Rosie grinned, barring quickly lengthening teeth. Her eyes grew golden. "Are you ready for your first full moon, husband," she snarled, her mouth no longer suited to human speech.

Van Helsing felt something in his spine. He bent, wracked with a sudden pain. He could feel his body changing as the moon rose over the trees. He met her eyes. "No."

"Good," she threw back her head and let loose a howl that chilled his blood. He blinked and she was gone. In her place stood the familiar red wolf.

He could feel his bones contracting and expanding again. He threw off the dressing gown and screamed at the night sky. His screams turned to howls, echoing off the trees and mountains. Mist clouded his mind and he sought to push past the primal desires running through his veins. Van Helsing rose shakily to his paws, trying to remember Rosie's lessons. He set one paw in front of the other.

Rosie let out a little bark and ran off into the trees.

/Follow her,/ the moon whispered through the mist. /Follow her to the ends of the earth./

With those words, he was running after her. He dodged trees and rocks with the ease of someone who had been born with four legs and a tail. He skidded to a halt. Rosie was examining the base of a nearby rock. She snorted.

He trotted up behind her. /What have you found?/ The question ran unbidden through his mind. It was something he would have said during the daylight hours. He was surprised to receive an answer.

Rosie's reply wasn't so much words as a vague impression that she had found something relating to the missing child. She stepped to the side and let him nose at the base of the rock. His nose was filled with the scent of living things. He could detect no fewer than ten individual forest creatures (they were, respectively, six deer, a mouse, two hedgehogs, a rabbit, and a fox), three of the villagers (/Herr/ Schweitzer and his two sons, most likely out looking for Josephine), and something else. He pressed his nose to the rock, trying to capture the elusive scent. It was familiar; almost like he had smelled it in the distant past-- he jumped back, his two extra legs tripping him up.

He let out a surprised yelp. /It's her!/ he fairly screamed, his mind racing. /Ana has been here, this is her perfume! She's been wearing the same scent since university./

Rosie let out a subtle doggish noise that sounded a lot like a laugh. /Of course you remember that./ she chided, cocking her head to one side. A question drifted through their connection. /Can you follow the scent?/

He flattened his ears against his head. Of course he could. He subscribed to the /Lupus Dei/ school of thought: God had put werewolves on His Earth for a divine purpose, namely to hunt down evil and eradicate it. Rosie's quick dispatch of the drone had only cemented his beliefs. /To the ends of the earth,/ he snarled at her, rising from his prone position and snapping at her.

She growled and flattened herself to the ground. /This is no time for hurt feelings. We have to find them before they do something to Josephine!/

Van Helsing didn't grace her with a response. He aimed one last snap at her ear and loped off between the trees with his nose pressed to the ground.

37

The sky spread out in all directions, glowing a lightening shade of purest blue. Tree branches cracked its edges as they swayed back and forth. Van Helsing blinked at the sight. He held his hands -- and they were truly hands now -- in front of his face, checking for he knew not what. He settled for fingers. A cursory count revealed that he still had all ten.

He sighed and tried to sit up, only to be stopped by an unexpected weight. A slight breeze tickled his stomach.

"Can't you ever sleep past sunrise?" Rosie asked from her spot between his legs. "I'd think this morning, of all mornings, you'd want to sleep in a little.  It's not every night that you have your body shredded into a million pieces. Only a few times a month."

"Where did we end up?" He propped himself up with one arm. "Are we anywhere near my dressing gown?"

"Tsk, tsk, husband," she looked up at him, her green eyes twinkling. "Always concerned with the immaterial. What you should really be asking is: 'What did we find last night?'"

"Well? What did we find?"

"Lesson three: remembering last night," she sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. "It's the most important lesson after learning how to be comfortable in your skivvies. Speaking of which, your face might be lying but other parts of you aren't. Would you like some help with that?"

He flushed.

"I'll take that as a no." She crossed her arms, obscuring her breasts from view. "I remember what happened last night. How far do your memories go?"

Van Helsing tried to rearrange his legs, but, as Rosie was still sitting between them, he didn't have much luck.

"This is where the aforementioned 'being comfortable in your skivvies' comes in real handy. Sorry, poor choice of words. Look, you shouldn't be bashful. It's not like this is the first time I've seen you naked. Remember that farmer just outside of Dublin who shot you in the ass?"

"How could I forget?" he reached for the spot, feeling for the scar.

"Well then y'all will remember that I had to sew you back up."

"Yes, but that was before this whole marriage business," he could feel the color rising in his face again. "Things were slightly less complicated then."

"Only slightly," she shrugged. "C'mon, doc, we got off topic. What do you remember from last night?"

"I remember finding Ana's scent and following it through the woods but--" he cut off, frowning. "My memories stop just after we found her castle."

"There's a good reason for that." Rosie pointed to the north.

He turned and there, sitting on the horizon, was a crumbling pile of stones.

"It only looks like that from the outside, I'm sure. It's probably got lots of tunnels and dungeons and torture chambers just below the surface. Don't y' think?"

"Why didn't you tell me we were this close?"

She shrugged. "I wanted to see if you remembered."

"So, instead of telling me that I am, in fact, sitting less than a mile from Ana's stronghold wearing nothing but what God graced me with, you decided to test my memory," he grabbed her shoulders. "Why?"

"It's all part of the werewolf experience."

He groaned and fell back to the ground. "I'm entirely sure I like the 'werewolf experience.'"

"Oh, I don't know, you look like you're taking to it marvelously."

His eyes snapped open and he craned his neck only to see Ana standing over him, her upside down face showing clear amusement. "Good morning, Abraham."

He swallowed. "Good morning, Ana."

"Don't I get a greeting?"

Ana surveyed Rosie the same way a cat might look at a mouse. "Good morning, Miss Winchester. That is quite the collection of scars."

Rosie stood, grinning in her enemy's face. "I've been through the meat grinder a few times. And, you know, it sounds like you'd like to put me through it again."

"I just might do that. I've come to invite Abraham to my castle. I suppose, however, that you can come along as well."

"Ain't that sweet, doc? She thought of little old me," she barred her teeth at Ana. "Are we goin' /au natural/ or do you have something in that little bag that'll return /my husband/ and I to respectability?"

Ana reached into her bag and withdrew two plain black robes. She fairly threw one at Rosie. "Put this on." She was much kinder to Van Helsing; Ana bent slightly at the waist and handed him his robe. "If you like, Abraham. You know I always did admire your body."

A little finger of ice ran up and down Van Helsing's spine. The context was all wrong. He pulled the robe over his head. "I think I will. How are we to get to the castle?"

Ana clapped. A sturdily build dog cart pulled by two skeletal horses emerged from the trees. "My personal carriage will take us." She stepped away, not waiting for them to follow.

Rosie snorted. "Now that's just tacky."

Van Helsing touched her arm. "Methinks a little tact would go a long way," he laced his arm through hers. "Considering who we're dealing with."

"True enough, husband. By the way, when we get out of this particular pickle you're going to tell me just how many admirers your body has. I'd like to scope out the competition."

He smiled, kissing her hand as they climbed into the dog cart. "There is no competition."

[gjgriff736]

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In the latest episode of The Walking Dead, Rick is back in the Thunderdome, Daryl and Tara lose patience, and Eugene comes to terms with himself.

The Scavengers seem to get weirder and weirder.  Rick is still in the shipping container, waiting for whatever is supposed to happen.  When the doors finally open, we see that he is not naked (unfortunately), but in his boxers.  Jadis and her buddy Brion are a few feet away from him.  Brion is sketching and Jadis is holding a camera.  Rick gives her another chance to join him against Negan, but her answer is to snap a photo.  She snaps two more before closing the doors again.  Before they close, Rick asks why she’s taking photos.  She says to sculpt him after.  Lord, that sounds like some mess.

At the Sanctuary, Eugene’s traitorous ass has really gone all the way over to the Dark Side.  He visits Dwight and tells him that he knows he’s the mole and to either “cease and desist” or he’ll tell Negan and the others.  Dwight ain’t no punk, though.  He grabs Eugene by the shirt, plops his ass in a chair and then tells him what’s what.  The Sanctuary will fall.  Either join the revolution or perish.  Eugene, finding what little balls he has, repeats his request, then walks out.

While walking back to his room, Dr. Karson asks Eugene to step into the room where Father Gabriel is laid up.  It’s not looking too good for our Father Gabriel.  And Eugene, the punk, blames the possibly dying man for being sick.  Luckily, Dr. Karson is a better man than Eugene and tries to help.  He leaves Eugene with Father Gabriel while he goes to the market for herbs.  Father Gabriel wakes up after a bit of a coughing fit and sees Eugene standing at the end of the bed.  He tells the punk to sit and he does.  Father Gabriel tries to reach for his glass of water, and for a moment, Eugene just fucking sits there.  He finally helps the poor man out and gives him a drink.  After, the two men speak a bit about Eugene hopefully helping Father Gabriel get Dr. Karson to the Hilltop.  But Eugene is who he is:  a small man who looks out for himself, always.  At least he’s honest.  I think I may have said, “Fuck you, Eugene” about five times during that scene, though.

Outside of the Sanctuary, Morgan is inside one of the other buildings looking for anyone trying to leave.  He gets a call on his walkie about a truck approaching and Morgan sees that it’s Daryl and the rest.  The crew of Daryl, Tara, Rosita and Michonne are discussing next steps, with Rosita being the dissenter.  She thinks they should wait, as rushing to try and end things was what got Sasha killed and decides to go back to Alexandria.  Michonne is conflicted but decides to see it through with the rest.  Methinks this is going to go completely sideways.

Back at the Sanctuary, Eugene is visited by one of Negan’s wives, the same one who tried to get him to help end Negan.  Tanya stops by to get the boombox Eugene said he would fix in exchange for two bottles of wine.  But since the siege, he hasn’t been fixing shit.  Tanya tells him he’s got one more day but Eugene asks for the wine anyway.  He claims he needs it to sleep, but she knows it’s because he can’t deal with the fact that he works with Negan.  I mean, after seeing men being burned with irons, thrown into fire, and women basically trapped into being Negan’s wives, who the hell is sleeping in that place?  But Tanya doesn’t feel sorry for him because Eugene had a chance to end Negan and he chickened out.  Just like he always does.  Tanya decides to leave the wine but knows it won’t help.  As she’s leaving, Laura stops by to summon Eugene:  Negan wants to see him.

As always, Negan is at the table holding his girl Lucille.  He tells Eugene that if shit doesn’t get fixed soon, people will die.  Not Negan, of course cuz he’s good at staying alive, and he thinks Eugene is, too.  Eugene is smart, and strong and Negan likes that.  So he shakes his hand and tells the punk that he rarely shakes hands because that’s a sign of mutual respect.  Negan knew just what to say to Eugene to puff him up and get him to thinking.  He goes back to his room so he could work on Tanya’s boombox, or so I thought.  He needs more supplies and ends up in a darkened room.  He sees the coffin Sasha was in and Eugene has a flashback of her coming out of the coffin as a walker and he loses it for just a moment.  He calms down, opens the coffin lid and finds the iPod he gave Sasha.

Outside of the Sanctuary, Daryl, Michonne and Tara drive as close to the building as possible without attracting walkers.  Morgan is talking them through, using his vantage point as a guide.  Tara gets out of the truck, ready to roll, but Michonne is hesitating.  She wants to end things, but still thinks it’s too risky.  So she opts out and heads back to Alexandria.  Tara, Daryl and Morgan continue with their plan.

Meanwhile, Eugene is using his traitorous brain to come up with a way to get rid of the walkers.  He creates a glider that will play music from the iPod, drawing the walkers away.  It’s a brilliant plan and one that would work, save for Dwight pointing a gun at his head.  Eugene, terrified, sets the glider off anyway and the thing is working but Dwight shoots it down.  When Daryl hears the gunshots, he tells Tara and Morgan to move now and they begin shooting at the windows housing the Saviors’ snipers.  Daryl drives the truck towards one of the walls, and jumps out before it hits, which creates a giant hole allowing the walkers to swarm.  Eugene sees all of the carnage and he flips out.  He runs back to Father Gabriel’s room and tells him hell no he ain’t helping him, he’ll continue to work for Negan and Dr. Karson ain’t going nowhere.  Eugene will survive and will do whatever it takes and won’t feel bad about it.

He heads straight for Negan and tells him how to get rid of the walkers.  Eugene begins to rat on Dwight but changes his mind the others walk in telling Negan about the status of the walkers.  Instead of snitching, Eugene proceeds to get wasted on red wine, listening to sounds of gunfire.

Back in Crazy Town, Rick finds himself face-to-face with another Thunderdome walker, this time, on a stick.  One of the Scavengers is holding him down but Rick’s like, nah man, I’m out.  He starts knocking everyone out, using the Thunderdome walker as a weapon/shield.  He eventually gets Jadis down on the ground with her face inches from the walker’s gnashing teeth.  He tells everyone that he’s walking out of there alive, with his clothes, and his people are going to kill them all.  So it’s either join them or die.  Jadis decides to join, but she wants half of the Saviors’ stuff.  Rick tells her she’ll get a fourth, so she counters:  a fourth plus she sculpts him naked (hey I’d counter with that, too).  But he tells her hell no.  She reluctantly agrees and they all head out to the Sanctuary.  And when he gets there, he sees that all of the walkers have been cleared.  Every.  Single.  One.  Oh fuck.

How long before Negan retaliates?  Will Jadis betray Rick yet again?  Will Eugene survive another day at the Sanctuary?

Stay tuned.

The Walking Dead airs Sundays at 9 p.m. on AMC.  Photos courtesy of AMC.

The Walking Dead, Season 8 – Time for After In the latest episode of The Walking Dead, Rick is back in the Thunderdome, Daryl and Tara lose patience, and Eugene comes to terms with himself.