#which then led to her sister being sent to a spirit temple which then comes back around to my mom dying. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vintage-squid · 4 years ago

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Threading Our Future

Summary: When up-and-coming designer Virgil Psykhe lands an interview with his favourite fashion label, he has no idea that the attention he's drawn to himself is being taken away from someone very important: the Lady of the Summer Court. Scorned and furious, she sends her son to kill the insolent human.

But when Janus lays eyes on Virgil for the first time, his breath is stolen by the fluttering of his heart and he knows he won't be able to follow through with his mother's orders.

A modern fae re-telling of the Eros and Psyche myth!

Pairing: Virgil/Janus (background Logan/Patton) Characters: Virgil, Janus, Roman, Remy, Patton, Logan, Remus Rating: T Warnings: mild violence and blood mention, nonsexual nudity, literal sleeping together Word count: 10 363

-----

Virgil Psykhe groaned as he stood from his chair, bracing both hands against the small of his back and pressing until he felt a satisfying series of pops from his hips and up his spine. He should know better by now than to spend hours on end hunched over his projects without taking proper breaks, but he honestly couldn’t help it. Once he got focused, his whole world narrowed to sketch, cut, sew, trim. It was like he was possessed by some crazy spirit who deemed his sarcastic, introverted ass worthy enough to use as a vessel for creation. At least, that’s how he described the near-frenzy he would fall into when his worried fathers questioned after his health.

Was he getting enough sleep? (No.) When was the last time he’d had something to eat? (Did the granola bar he had earlier count?) Would he be willing to drink more water if Papa cut up some citrus to add? (Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea...)

He knew their fretting came from a place of love. As the youngest of three, he was the baby of the family. Both of his older sisters had married a few years ago, now living with their husbands in a couple of larger, nearby cities. They had told their parents the distant moves were for their husband’s jobs, but Virgil knew better. His sisters had never seemed to fit with the unique … energy of their small hometown.

Virgil, however, had yet to even move out, let alone find anyone who would want to spend the rest of their life with him. Thankfully, while his dads did want him to eventually find love, they were mostly just happy to support his dreams of becoming a famous designer.

Rolling his eyes, Virgil glanced around his cluttered studio. Like he would ever actually be a big name in the fashion industry. Yeah, sure, he wanted more than anything to get his designs out there for models of all backgrounds and appearances to showcase the beauty that was in every body type, but he didn’t want his first name attached to that kind of attention. Nope. No thanks. He would much rather people enjoy his work for what it was, not just because it came from him.

Maybe a pseudonym would work? Eh, he still had time to think about it anyway. It wasn’t like he was going to be traveling far from his studio in his dads’ basement any time soon after all. Picking up his phone, Virgil glanced at the time and cursed under his breath. Shit, he was late to meet up with Remy, and he had forgotten to plug his charger in. He groaned as he shoved his phone in his pocket anyway and grabbed his wallet, headphones, and house key. That drama queen was probably going to bitch and moan about being made to wait until Virgil finally agreed to pay for his drink. Not that Virgil really minded, but he had appearances to keep up.

With one last glance around to make sure he had everything, he dashed up the stairs to head out.

-----

Jogging down the street, Virgil turned past the Spirits’ Temple, where the town’s inhabitants left offerings to the spirits of the forest on the first of every month. Tradition claimed that each month was to be dedicated to one of the twelve local spirits who held dominion over different areas of day-to-day life, and that by honouring them, the town would prosper. At the height of the monthly festivals, there would be candles lining the marble steps, fake vines and string lights wrapped around the temple’s stone columns, and a wide spread of wine and honey-sweetened foods to be served. Some of this would be up for grabs on the buffet table, but a selection was always saved to be placed in one of the twelve bronze braziers, which one depended on the month, lining the sides of the temple. Each brazier was set in front of a stone statue carved with a symbol that denoted which spirit it belonged to.

At some point during the evening, everyone in town would take a moment to approach the massive fireplace along the back wall of the temple and toss in a part of their meal with a quietly murmured prayer for luck in some strange-sounding language. To this day, Virgil wasn’t sure what exactly he was saying, but his dad had taught him the correct pronunciation, and he was too superstitious not to follow through. Besides, it wasn’t like he could look too ridiculous doing it when literally everyone else was doing the same thing.

Approaching one of the two coffee shops in town, and the only one he ever frequented, Virgil shook his head to rid himself of thoughts of weird small-town rituals. Inside, it was easy to spot Remy sitting at their usual table with his sunglasses tucked into the front of his shirt and a drink already in hand. As he slid into his side of the booth, Virgil was surprised to see his favourite order (hot chocolate with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles, and a slice of banana bread) already waiting for him.

“I was gonna apologize for being late, but clearly I don’t have to,” he said, glancing up and narrowing his eyes. “What did you do?”

Remy threw both hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Hey now, why did I have to do something wrong in order to surprise my best friend with his favourite goodies?”

Virgil snorted and crossed his arms, giving his friend a Look.

“Fine, fine!” Remy blew out a sigh and dropped his hands onto the table. “So, maybe I did do something, and maybe you’re gonna be a little mad at me for it, but I promise it’s okay! It’s gonna pay off and you’re totally going to thank me for this one day!”

Virgil dropped his face into his hands with a groan and dug the heels of his palms against his eyelids. “Just spit it out, Remy. What the fuck did you do?”

“Remember that photoshoot we did a couple weeks back with the latest ‘famous-one-day’ designs you sewed up?” Virgil could hear the familiar sounds of Remy typing on his phone. “Well babe, you’ve been making ‘one days’ for too long! So I decided to make ‘one day’ into ‘today’! Ta-dah!”

Bracing himself, Virgil peeked out from the dark safety of his hands, blinking a few times to clear his blurry vision and focus on the phone screen wavering in front of him. Right there, staring back at him from within Remy’s well-manicured clutch, was an email addressed to Penelope with attached photos from their shoot.

“Please, please tell me you didn’t sen-”

“I sent our pics to your favourite fashion label! The one and only Penelope! Known for their breathtaking lines like ‘Faith’ and ‘Fidelity’ that reimagined what it meant to be fashionable! And the best part!” Remy paused for dramatic effect, all but wiggling in his seat. “They emailed me back! They want to do an interview with you next month on the first!”

There was a loud thud as Virgil’s head met the table. If they hadn’t been sitting in public, he definitely would have started screaming too. Instead, all that came out was a muttered, “I fucking hate you. Why would you do this to me? You know I suck at talking to people; they’re gonna hate me and then tell all of the other companies to never work with me and then I’ll definitely never make it.”

A hand settled on top of his head and began to run through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp at the same time. “Don’t be so dramatic, Virge. This is gonna be great for you, I promise. When have I ever led you astray?”

Virgil glared at his friend and opened his mouth, but Remy cut him off.

“Ahp-ahp! Rhetorical question, babes. You're going to thank me for this, I promise.”

When Virgil remained silent, the hand that had been petting his hair slid down to cup his cheek and lift his chin up.

“Hey,” his best friend murmured softly. “If you really, really don’t want to do this, I can email them back and cancel, but I think you should go for it, Virge. This could be your big break!” Remy’s thumb had begun running a soothingly back and forth over his cheek. Virgil didn’t even try to hide the way he relaxed into the comforting gesture, leaning more weight into his friend’s palm. “I’ll even come with you to the interview, okay? I’ll be right there the entire time - gotta make sure they meet your number one model after all,” he added with a playful wink.

Damn Remy and his extroverted influence. Virgil sighed and sat up fully, reluctantly pulling away from the comforting hold and silently relieved when Remy’s hand dropped to link their fingers instead. “I guess as long as you’re there too, then I won’t be the only one making a fool of myself.”

“That’s the spirit!” Remy cheered, ignoring the looks some of the other patrons shot their way at the noise.

Keeping their hands interlocked, Virgil picked up his hot chocolate and took a sip of the sweet ambrosia as he listened to his best friend ramble about his plans for their future.

-----

Somehow, the word got out. Everyone and their cousin’s dog knew about Virgil’s interview and had seen some of the photos that had been leaked. All of them wanted to get a glimpse of not only the representatives of the big fashion label (who may as well have been celebrities to the small community), but also the unobtrusive young man who had brought the attention onto their town.

Virgil clung to Remy’s hand as they approached the café where the interview was going to be taking place. It wasn’t their usual haunt, something Virgil was grateful for; if things went south, he didn’t want that memory attached to one of his favourite places. People were already gathering outside, gossiping amongst themselves or attempting to peer through the front windows. He longed to pull his hood up and hide his face, but Papa had spent all morning helping him make sure his hair and make-up (and everything else) looked interview ready. Not to mention he wasn’t even wearing his favourite hoodie to tuck himself away into.

At Remy’s insistence, he had donned one of the outfits he made last year. The top was made of a flowy material, tighter at the wrists and loose in the arms, wrapping comfortably around his chest to tie in the front above his navel. It was sewn from a high-quality plum linen with a black lace webbing over top. For the bottom, Virgil had pieced together different shades of grey and black fabrics until he had a pair of loose patchwork pants that sat at the hips and left a strip of his stomach visible. He had completed the look with a fresh pair of high-tops that tied the look together despite the discordant styles. With one last look to his best friend for reassurance, Virgil nodded and they waded through the crowd together, on their way to their future.

-----

Singing to herself, Roman stepped through the woods with all the ethereal grace granted to her by her station. As she made her way to the quaint little human town, Roman was accompanied by a pair of mourning doves. While one had alighted on her shoulder, the other fluttered about, and both were cooing in harmony with her otherworldly song.

Her body was draped in a sheer chiffon number, as blood-red as the wine she drank from each year at the celebration of her power and beauty. It was naught much more than a thin layer of fabric over one shoulder and wrapped about her shapely waist, exposing one breast and leaving little work for the imagination on the rest of her body. The finest embroidery coloured the lower hem with twisting rose vines, as if they had sprung from the ground she walked on and reached up for her attention. Her hair was left to tumble free, as wild and untamed as the waves she had been born from so long ago. The Lady of the Summer Court had arrived.

In no time at all, the temple the humans of the village had built for her and her compatriots so long ago came into view. Roman hurried her steps, eager to feast on the delightful offerings she knew would be awaiting her. She hoped one of them left pomegranate; it was her favourite. The plump fruit so easy to tear open to reveal the juicy flesh inside - and the crunchy seeds! Oh!

Grinning, Roman moved around the side of the temple, stepping between the columns to slip inside and make her way towards her ceremonial statue along the right with the other ruling gentry of the Seelie Court. However, when she got close enough to see into the massive dish, indignation began to boil in her blood. Before her, in her brazier, lay half as many offerings as were given to her in the years passed. She looked around, hoping to find something else had been set aside or misplaced, but there was nothing. Seething, she spun on her heel and stalked towards the front of the temple in search of answers.

Outside, two attendants were working to douse the remaining candles to be collected on the morrow after Roman had departed. Well, they were certainly going to be in for a surprise when they returned to find their pitiful offerings still there in the morning. Even with the great distance between them, as a fae, Roman’s sharp ears did not struggle to overhear the conversation between the two humans.

“-believe something like this could happen in our little town,” the one on the right was saying. “Especially from that quiet kid! What’d you say his name was again?”

“He’s the Psykhe’s youngest boy, Virgil.

“No kidding! Sam was telling me the kid showed up for the interview wearing this wild statement piece, like a full fashion runway. I bet his dads sure are proud. I heard half the town was outside Burnsen’s hoping to get a front-row seat. They certainly weren’t here, that’s for sure.”

“Damn shame,” the second human agreed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a turn out this small for a Spirit’s Night. I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite us in the ass.”

The pair continued their gossip as they finished with the candles and moved onto tidying some of the other nonessential decorations. Roman wasn’t interested in listening any further; she had what she needed. Turning away from the pitiful little temple those putrid humans had so desecrated on her day of honour, the Lady of the Summer Court stormed back into the forest, seething vitriol.

“How dare these humans offer this worthless boy the worship and reverence meant for me! My status is all but set in the very stars and they do nothing more than drag it through the muddy earth!” She screeched, scaring away the doves who had been lingering nearby. “So much for me, the ancient mother of this forest who feeds and fosters the very nature of this place! If nothing lusts, then nothing reproduces! Did they ever consider that before they forced me to associate my status with a mere mortal child?”

As Roman cried out, the very trees parted for her, leaning their trunks away and raising their boughs out of the path of the furious fae. She paid them little heed as she marched down a trail long familiar. “Won’t this boy, whoever he is, be glad to know he has claimed the honours that are due to me by right? Not for much longer, this I swear by my very name! He will regret this beauty to which he has no claim!”

At the climax of her tirade, Roman stopped before the ivy-woven doors of her son’s lofty domain. She would teach this Virgil what happened when you scorned the fae.

-----

Across town, still wearing the outfit and makeup from earlier, though much disheveled, Virgil ran as if his life depended on it. At this point, though, his life may as well have been over, so what was the point in struggling on? Down the street and through the park, he sprinted until he could go no further and crumbled to the ground at the top of the large hill that overlooked the fish ponds. On his hands and knees, he clutched at the damp earth and panted heavily through his heaving sobs.

It was over. Penelope didn’t want to pick him up as a designer. Sure, they liked the selection that Remy had sent them, enough to come talk to him about it, but when the representatives had taken a look through the rest of his portfolio? They hadn’t said they hated it outright, but Virgil was certain his designs were too gothic, too dark, too risky for mainstream fashion. They were going to talk with some of the higher-ups back at the designer studio, but Virgil wasn’t going to be holding his breath. He’d seen their expressions clear as day while they flipped through his work.

Collapsing forward, Virgil buried his face into the crook of his elbow and curled his knees towards his chest, sobbing even harder. He had told Remy after the interview that he needed some space, but now that he was out here alone, he wanted nothing more than a hug from his best friend. Fuck, how was he going to tell his dads about this? It would break their heart!

Virgil shook his head free of the thought; he couldn’t handle any more right now. So he lay on the ground with his cheek pressed against the cool night grass, and cried until he passed out from exhaustion.

-----

In the twilight between wakefulness and sleep, Virgil stirred when he felt a pair of arms slide under his body and hoist him up into a strong hold. His head lolled to the side until his temple dropped against a firm body. Then, a kiss was pressed to his forehead, tickling his skin with...a mustache?

“Go back to sleep, little human,” a high, scratchy-sounding voice said. “Jay doesn’t want you to see anything just yet! We don’t want to ruin the surprise, eh?”

Virgil’s face scrunched in confusion, but before he could crack his eyes open to see who was carrying him, a warm breath blew across his face and carried him off to his dreams like a gentle breeze spiraling high into the air.

-----

When Virgil woke for the second time, it was with far more peace and tranquility than he usually felt when greeting the day. His bed was extra soft and luxurious beneath the swell of his hip and he was comfortably warm, though he couldn’t feel the usual weight of his blanket. Stretching his arms far above his head, Virgil suddenly snapped his eyes open when his fingertips were greeted not with the hard wall behind his headboard, but with a damp, spongy texture instead.

Scrambled to his feet, he looked around to discover he was at the edge of a clearing, carpeted with a thick moss that his feet sank slightly into and surrounded by trees who towered so far above him their canopies seemed lost secrets of the sky. To one side a stream babbled a song, its waters bright as day and clear as glass. Breathless, he turned a slow circle, feasting on the seemingly supernatural wonders with starving eyes. The sight that greeted Virgil as he turned full around, however, could have subsisted him for a lifetime.

At the very heart of the grove, sitting in its focal point, rose what he could only describe as a palace. The trees which made up its supporting columns were an ivory birch, though much wider than any Virgil had ever seen, with leaves seemingly grown from pure gold that glittered in the dappled sunlight they let through. Framed by these otherworldly goliaths, ivy vines had been woven together to form a grand door which opened of its own accord and bid Virgil to enter. Under a spell spun from his own awe and curiosity (and probably some of whatever magic this place had to be made of), Virgil strode forward.

Inside, the palace seemed to emulate its own light, reflecting off the vaulted ceiling and highlighting the polished stone walls decorated with endless silver reliefs of animals real and imagined. Virgil trailed his fingertips along the slithering spine of a snake as he passed, admiring the lifelike detail in each scale, but before he could venture much further, a voice spoke.

“Welcome.”

Virgil jumped, spinning around to search for the source of the voice, but no one was there. When they spoke again, it sounded like they were right over his shoulder.

“You have been invited into the home of the fae as a guest of honour, Virgil.” The man in question felt a strange twinge in his chest hearing his name from the voice. “If you follow the doors to your left, you will find a dining hall in which you may eat your fill; the foods are from your home world and you need not fear consuming them. To your right lay the bathing and bed chambers. Please, make yourself at home. You are safe here, my darling.”

“Who are you? How do you know my name?” Virgil called out into the empty room.

There was a small pause before the voice replied. “You may call me Janus for the time being. It matters not how I know your name, but you need not worry that I will give it to anyone else.”

“Not creepy at all,” Virgil murmured before raising his voice once more. “Where are you? Why can’t I see you?”

“Ahh, my darling, take care with your curiosity before it gets you into trouble. Fret not, I am here with you, though you cannot see me. I know it is hard, but you must trust in me, my love. I shall visit you this evening after the light of day has given way to the dark of night. So long as you promise not to look upon my face and let me remain shrouded in shadows, then I shall answer more of your questions then.”

“What? I’m supposed to trust you, but I’m not allowed to look at your face? What the fuck, dude?”

“I understand this may be a cause for alarm, but you must understand my perspective, dear one. If you were to gaze upon me uninhibited, I fear you would not fall in love with me in a manner which would be best for us both. Promise to me, Virgil.”

“Okay, okay, I promise. Why is this so important to you anyway?”

“Thank you. I wish to form a genuine bond with you, beloved, and I cannot do that if you are influenced by my appearance. That is not how I desire to court my future husband.”

“Husband? What do you mean future husband!?”

Virgil stood in place, waiting for any further response from the invisible person, but it seemed his host had vanished into the very air he spoke from. Blowing out a heavy sigh, Virgil looked from left to right and decided the faint grumbling in his abdomen was something he could ignore for the time being; he probably wouldn’t be able to stomach anything right now anyway. So, he made his way towards the baths, hoping a splash of cool water could wake him from this crazy dream.

Unfortunately, even after dunking his head under the cool water, Virgil was still stuck in the extravagant palace with an invisible host. He braced his hands on the sides of the stone bowl carved from the wall, staring blankly at the trickling waterfall that fed into the dish he had rinsed in. How the fuck did he get into this mess? The voice had mentioned something about this place belonging to the fae? What the fuck? There’s no way any of this could be real. Well, that Janus had said he would answer Virgil’s questions tonight, so there seemed little more he could do than wait.

The bedroom he had been given was grand, far larger than even his entire basement suite back home, and all of its drapings were more luxurious than Virgil had ever seen. He ran his fingers down the curtains that hung from the bedposts, marvelling at the quality and the depth of the colour. What he wouldn’t give to be able to create with fabrics of this pedigree. He fiddled with the tie of his shirt around his middle and settled onto one of the plush armchairs by the window. Now, to wait.

-----

Hours later, Virgil was startled awake from a light doze by the sound of footsteps approaching his door. He scrambled to his feet, keeping one hand braced on a bedpost to orient himself as he squinted through the darkness. It was so dark he couldn’t even make out the vague outlines of the furniture around the room.

The door opened.

Virgil tensed, gripping the bedpost tighter and raising his other arm in front of him defensively. From what he could see, backlit from the hall, the figure entering the room was about his height, maybe a little taller. It was difficult to make out in the dark, but the shadow he cast onto the floor seemed to be larger than his body mass would produce. The door closed, leaving the two of them alone in the dark.

“Janus?” Virgil asked nervously, hoping there wasn’t anyone else in the palace who would be coming into his room this late at night.

“Breathe, Virgil, it is only me.”

It was as if a spell of calm soothed over him, easing the tension from around his neck and within his chest. Virgil took a deep, relieving breath. Janus hadn’t come any further into the room, seemingly content to linger by the door.

“Um… hi?” Virgil winced at how awkward he sounded, but continued on regardless. “You said you would answer more of my questions, right?”

“That is correct, beloved. I will tell you as much as I am able to at this time.” There was the sound of shuffling in the dark. “May I join you on the bed? I think we will both be much more comfortable being seated for this conversation.”

Virgil bit his lip, looking between the bed and Janus despite not being able to see either. Eventually, he nodded, and then blushed when he realized what he’d done.

“Yeah… yeah, you can come sit over here, I guess.”

“Thank you, my darling.”

When the pair had gotten settled, Janus was seated at the foot of the bed, leaning up against the bedpost and seemingly unbothered by the strange situation. Virgil, on the other hand, had his back pressed against the headboard with his knees hugged to his chest. His feet were buried in the blankets and he was absently scrunching the soft material under his toes in a comforting, rhythmic motion. It was Janus who broke the silence first.

“What would you ask of me first, dearest?”

Virgil blew out a sigh. “Why did you bring me here? What are you going to do with me? Am I ever going to be allowed to go home? Will you-”

"Sh sh sh,” Janus crooned, “One at a time, beloved, all will be answered. In short, I do not know when you will be able to return to your home, or if you ever will, but it is for your own good!” Janus hurriedly added before Virgil could panic. “You see, there is someone very powerful who is very angry with you. Intentionally or not, you have caused her a great disrespect, and she will not rest until her dues have been met.”

“How do you know all of this?”

Janus sighed. “Because she is my mother, and she sent me to kill you.”

“What!?” Virgil screeched, throwing himself off the bed and slamming against the nearby wall. His nails scrabbled at the stone, desperate to clutch, claw, escape. No, no, no, he didn’t want to die! He snapped his head back and forth, searching for any sort of way out, but he was blinded by shadows and fear. A sharp cry escaped him when a hand suddenly wrapped around one of his own and he whimpered as it squeezed, expecting pain. Instead, a gentle crooning cut through the ringing in his ears.

“Breathe, Virgil, you are not in danger. You must calm down and listen.”

Janus’ voice was surprisingly tender for how powerfully it could be heard through Virgil’s panic. He was able to focus on it like a tether to pull himself into a more relaxed state of mind. At some point, he had begun to time his breathing with Janus’ as well, steady and even to a count known only to the fae holding him. When Virgil had relaxed enough to come back to himself, he tensed all over again, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“How can you say I’m safe, when you’re gonna kill me?”

“Because I have no intentions of killing you,” Janus replied, now cradling both of Virgil’s hands to his chest. Even this close, the darkness was so impenetrably thick that Virgil had no hope of glimpsing his face. He kept his eyes averted regardless. “I brought you here to remove you from my mother’s gaze and conceal you from her misplaced wrath.”

Virgil was silent, processing, as Janus gently tugged on his hands and guided him back onto the bed. There, the fae leaned against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him and carefully pulled Virgil to recline on his chest. Virgil resisted for only a moment before complying. Everything else about this was already way out of his depth to manage, he may as well allow himself to be comfortable wherever he could. Janus was either going to kill him or leave him alive, and there likely wasn’t anything Virgil could do to sway that decision at this point. So, Virgil settled himself against Janus’ chest with his body laying between Janus’ legs and stretching out until their legs tangled together. He was grateful now for the dark that hid a probably searing blush as his cheek pressed flush against the fae’s warm skin; Janus wasn’t wearing a shirt and his nude torso was warm to cuddle against.

“Now,” Janus murmured, shifting Virgil’s focus from his embarrassment to the situation at hand. His fingers ran over Virgil’s scalp and through his hair, carefully brushing out any tangles and soothing in the same motion. “If you will let me continue, I was going to say my mother had ordered for you to be killed, however, I do not agree with her decision. She is acting rashly over a slight you did not directly commit.”

“What did I even do to piss her off so bad?” Virgil murmured from where his face was tucked against Janus’ collar, resting more of his weight closer with each breath.

“I do not know the exact details, only that you were the cause for drawing her worshippers away from the temple on her day of adulation. The fae do not take kindly to being stolen from, especially not my mother.”

“The interview,” Virgil breathed in horror. Pushing himself upright, he clutched at Janus’ arm. “I swear, I didn’t mean for everyone to skip out on the Spirit’s Festival! If it had been up to me, none of them would have even been at the cafe! I didn’t want them there, you have to believe me!”

“Calm yourself, beloved. I believe that you did not intentionally act to anger her. However, you must understand that even a perceived slight is considered very real and serious to the fae. That is why you must remain here under my protection, until my mother’s ire cools or I can convince her to redirect her anger.”

As Janus fell silent, Virgil curled in again and pondered what he had been told, trying to remember anything he could about the fae. It wasn’t like there was one consistent guidebook he could follow, but some of the stories the older people used to tell his grade school classes at the library were starting to make a little more sense now. He had been told the forest couldn’t lie, so maybe that meant the fae were bound by the truth? A stretch, sure, but weren’t all myths rooted somehow in reality? They were also regularly told that the spirits of the forest loved beauty, especially in the form of attractive people, and could bestow gifts on those they enjoyed looking upon. Virgil had always felt so disheartened hearing that. He wasn’t anything special, just a plain-looking boy, so the forest would never favour him.

Why then had Janus?

“So,” Virgil broke into the quiet, “you supposedly brought me here to protect me from your mother, but that doesn’t explain why you called me your future husband earlier.”

Janus hummed. “When I set out to observe the human who had offended my mother, I was prepared to be faced with a disgusting example of your kind. What I found instead was the most beautiful face I had ever laid eyes on.” Virgil gasped when the hand that had been in his hair slipped down to cup his cheek and tilt his chin up. He felt a pair of lips brush so lightly against his forehead that he thought he imagined it. “You were sobbing so hard for a deeply rooted pain. I found myself desiring nothing more than to stop your tears and see how much your already breathtaking countenance would shine when lit by a smile.”

“I - you -”

Virgil was sure that he had been kissed before, because now he felt those lips curl into a smile.

“Is it so hard to believe you are so attractive?”

“Well, yeah,” Virgil huffed, his eyes closed as he leaned into Janus’ palm. “It’s not like I heard it all that often.”

“Mmm, I shall have to change that, then,” Janus whispered, resting his cheek on Virgil’s head, cradling him close once more. “Do you have any more questions, beloved? If not, it is time for you to rest, you’ve had a long day.”

The gentle petting and warm embrace were taking their toll on Virgil’s exhausted mind. He let himself rest heavily on Janus, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck and wrapping an arm around the fae’s chest. “Jus’ one,” he murmured, voice already dipping into that sleepy slur. “Wanna make sure m’dads know ‘m safe…”

“I’ll see what I can do, my love. Rest now, Virgil.”

Like a spell had been cast over him, Virgil drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

-----

When Virgil had awoken, he was alone in the massive bed. He was surprised to feel a twinge of disappointment in his chest, having hoped Janus would stay despite the fae not wanting to show his face. Sighing, he slid out of bed and got himself ready for the day, slipping into some comfortable clothes he found in a set of drawers. When he came down for breakfast, his host’s invisible voice greeted him and informed him that his dads had been told of the situation and were relieved Virgil was alive and relatively safe.

The next few days played out much the same. Virgil was left to his own devices during the day, waited on by some sort of invisible staff as he explored the palace. He never saw another soul, but whenever he needed something, he learned to simply call out for it and it would be delivered to him by magic.

Each night, Janus would arrive in his bedroom once the sun had disappeared. He never asked for more than Virgil was willing to give, but Virgil found himself cuddled close every night without fail. They would speak for hours - about Virgil’s dreams, his dads, and Remy - nothing was too simple for Janus to inquire about. The fae was fascinated by every aspect of human life, and Virgil enjoyed discovering a sense of romantic joy over the little things he had experienced. There was something about Janus that soothed away the ever-present worries that were always yelling inside Virgil’s head.

There was one worry that couldn’t be silenced, however. No matter how much Virgil was coming to trust his protector, he could not ignore the fact that he had no idea what Janus even looked like. It was eating away at him not to know, and the longer he sat alone, the Janus in his head looked more and more like a monster waiting to prey upon him. This couldn’t go on. He had to know.

-----

During the day before he was going to enact his plan, Virgil spent his time in the massive library he had discovered on the second day, scanning the shelves and making a show of selecting a couple books. He made himself comfortable in one of the oversized cushions piled near the floor-to-ceiling window and pretended to read. Between absently scanning the pages, Virgil looked up and glanced around the room, as if his mind were wandering with the tale he was apparently focused on. In reality, he was scouring the room for ideas.

Countless candles were lit around the library, their wax melting at different stages, some newly pooling while others formed thick layers around the base of the candelabras. They were lit now, but there was no way for him to have an already burning flame in the bedroom when Janus arrived for the night. He would have to find some way to light one on his own. Maybe he could just -

“Excuse me?” He called into the air. “Could I please have more candles, and some matches for them? I want to go read in my room, but, um, the smell is really nice in here.”

Like always, the items he requested popped into existence on a low table nearby: three candles and a pair of matches. Huh, he hadn’t actually thought that was going to work.

“Thank you!”

Hugging both books to his chest, Virgil collected his new tools and jogged up to his room. There, he placed the candles onto the small table between the armchairs and lit them with a match. The second match, he carefully tucked inside the front knot of his shirt, pressing against his breast. Now prepared, he settled in to actually focus on the novel he had picked up. There was nothing but time to kill.

-----

By the time Janus arrived, Virgil had already blown out the candles and crawled into bed. He cuddled in as soon as Janus had laid down, laying his head on the fae’s chest and trying to keep his breathing steady as they fell into their usually nighttime conversation. Janus’ claws delicately traced the bumps of his spine the entire time they spoke.

Once Virgil was sure Janus had fallen asleep, he began the slow process of extracting himself from the fae’s embrace. Janus really was a cuddler, and loved to hold Virgil close while they slept, but thankfully he was also quite a deep sleeper. Virgil was able to carefully pull himself away and tuck a pillow into Janus’ arms. The fae squished it to his chest and curled onto his side, none the wiser.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Virgil went to work. He grabbed one of the candles and fished the match out from under his shirt, striking it against the table to light it. One hand held onto the base of the candle, while the other carefully cupped around the flame, protecting it as Virgil walked around to the other side of the bed where Janus lay. With a deep breath to steady himself, he pulled his hand away and gasped at the sight in front of him.

Janus never wore a shirt, which meant Virgil’s hands had felt the broad expanse of his naked back every night they had slept together. That didn’t explain why there were now a pair of gorgeous, tawny wings sprouting from between Janus’ shoulder blades. The feathers looked softer than anything Virgil could imagine and shined like spun gold in the candlelight. Virgil ached to caress the speckled feathers, to scrunch his fingers in the fluffy down near the wings’ base, but as he reached out, Janus rolled over and Virgil’s breath was punched from his lungs. The face of his protector was carved by the gods. Janus’ skin was a rich, dark brown, reflecting the candle light to accent his strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. Virgil could only imagine what colour his eyes could be behind his lids, framed by perfectly shaped brows and a shapely nose. Oh! Those lips! So plump and full! What would they feel like pressed against his own?

Enraptured, Virgil tried to get a better look, but as he leaned forward, some of the melted wax from the candle spilled over and landed on Janus’ cheek. The fae yelped, startling awake and clutching at his face as he threw himself upright. Virgil jumped back in shock, falling on his ass while somehow keeping the candle lit. The clatter drew Janus’ attention and his head snapped to the side to look at Virgil, who saw the moment Janus’ eyes widened with understanding and heartbreaking betrayal.

“You promised!” Janus hissed. “You promised me you wouldn’t look! Does your word mean so little to you!?”

“N-No - I, I just, I wanted-”

“What!? What was so important that you had to break your promise?”

“I wanted to, to make sure you weren’t some sort of … monster … who had kidnapped me to… to eat me,” Virgil muttered, suddenly feeling incredibly foolish. Why did he have to give in to his anxieties so easily? The next moment, his heart crumpled with Janus’ expression.

“Get out.”

“Wait, what?”

“I said. Get. Out.” Janus growled, spreading his wings high above his head as he leaned over the edge of the bed. “Get out of my sight, and out of my home! If you cannot hold to one simple promise, then I will not protect you! You can deal with my mother’s wrath on your own!”

About to protest, Virgil cried out in fear as Janus slashed out him, narrowly missing his face with those lethal claws. He didn’t waste any more time, dropping the candle and scrambling to his feet to run out of the bedroom. The empty halls echoed with his laboured breathing and the slap of his bare feet against the tiled floor as he sprinted through the palace and out the ivy-woven doors. The moment he was out, the doors slammed shut behind him.

Panting heavily, Virgil bent over with his hands on his knees, his entire body trembling from fear and exertion. He dropped to the ground and clutched his head in both hands, curling smaller and crying as silently as he could muster. It was a long time before his breathing evened out and he was able to drag himself back to his feet.

A glance around the clearing revealed what he had known upon his first arrival: he had no idea where in the forest he was, or which way led back home. So, he did the only thing he could and picked a direction to start walking. Through the night he stumbled over roots and around tangled shrubs, not stopping until he finally tripped over his own exhausted feet and fell into the shockingly cold waters of a stream. He spluttered and gasped, miserably dragging himself back up the bank. The sun was rising overhead, the forest waking up around him; he didn’t have the time to huddle here in a ball feeling sorry for himself.

-----

As the day progressed, Virgil noticed the trees beginning to thin and the gaps between the trunks growing wider. Suddenly, the canopy overhead parted to reveal a mountain, vast and tall, that should have been visible long before this moment. Placed at irregular intervals up the cliffside were six palaces woven of different plants woven together with even more grandeur than Janus’ home. Over the edge of the mountain, the tips and edges of presumably more palaces - these ones sculpted and shaped from various stones - were visible against the pale sky.

Virgil squinted, trying to get a better look at the strangely familiar shapes carved into the rock face near each palace. He gasped. The symbols matched those carved into the statues above the bronze dishes in the Spirit’s Temple, more specifically, the dishes meant for the spirits honoured in the spring and summer. That would mean - there! On the left! Beneath a palace of myrtle trees and rose vines, was the symbol belonging to the seventh spirit. That had to be the home of Janus’ mother, the spirit - or fae, rather - who was supposed to have been honoured at the start of this month.

Biting his lip, Virgil looked back the way he came then up at the palace once more. If what Janus said was true, and he wasn’t going to be offering protection anymore, then Virgil would have to face her on his own. It was either that, or cowering away until she tracked him down and killed him. Also not a desirable option, but Virgil would rather have some form of control over the end of his life. Beginning to climb, he just wished he would have been able to say goodbye to his dads first.

While there were worn deer trails to follow, the journey was not an easy one. Virgil had to cling to the rocks, heaving himself ever upwards, trying not to slice his bare feet or palms on the uneven shale. The summer sun climbed alongside him, growing hotter and hotter, sapping his energy and strength. Still, he pushed on until he stood before the lush gates shaking with exhaustion and dizzy from the heat.

Before he could gather his wits, the thorny vines that sealed the palace from the outside world began to withdraw. Where they parted, massive sanguine roses bloomed, as if to cushion a passerby from the sharp thorns. From within the depths of the palace strode out a figure so radiant and commanding, Virgil immediately felt subservient to her will. He quickly looked away, cheeks hot, as both of her breasts were exposed and only a lightweight wrap covered her lower body. His body recoiled when her piercing laugh broke the silence.

“Finally! The wretched beast comes crawling to its master, the Lady of the Summer Court. Had enough of playing at royalty, have you? Look at me when I’m talking to you, Virgil!”

Virgil immediately snapped his head back towards her, paling when his eyes met with her seething ire, but unable to drop his gaze any lower. He gripped the sides of his pants with white knuckles. “I - I’m so, so sorry! I n-never meant-”

“Look at this!” The fae cut in, causing Virgil to flinch again. “The pathetic mortal trying to inspire pity from me with your anxiety and melancholy! I will not be made a fool and relegated to some cheap handmaiden!”

With a shriek of rage, the Lady of Summer darted forward faster than Virgil’s eyes could track. The next moment, he was sprawled on the ground, ears ringing. He brought a shaky hand up to his stinging cheek and felt his stomach drop when his fingertips came away bloody. Rolling onto his back, he choked. The Lady was looming over him, one of her hands dripping with his blood as she pinned him down with a foot on his chest.

“It seems only fair to me, mortal, that I give you some chance to win back my good graces. Therefore, you shall complete a task for me, or else I will take your life as compensation for your disrespect.” The Lady of Summer announced with a wave of her hand. Virgil looked to the side, wincing as the cuts in his cheek dug into the gravel, and watched in surprise as a pile of mixed grains appeared nearby.

“You will sort this mass and disarray of seeds - wheat, barley, millet, poppy, chickpea, and lentil - into individual piles. I will know if a single grain lays with the wrong group. You have until this evening.” With that, the Lady of Summer kicked off his ribs and spun her skirts, vanishing into thin air with a flourish and leaving only the heady scent of roses as a sign of her presence.

Virgil lay on the ground in silence for a long time after she disappeared, barely daring to breathe. When he was finally able to bring himself to move, he slowly rolled onto his hands and knees, hissing at the pain in his ribs - definitely bruised. Crawling over to the pile of seeds, he reached a hand out but hesitated before he could touch the tiny grains. How the fuck was he supposed to sort these? He could hardly begin to tell them apart! Sitting back on his ass, Virgil dropped his face into his hands and burst into tears.

Then, he heard a high-pitched giggle.

Flitting to-and-fro above him were four - five - eight, no - seven? Seven little pixies were spinning, twirling, dancing through the air above him. Their bright, insect-like wings caught the sunlight and sent out flashes of colour like a rainbow in motion. One-by-one they drifted to the ground, settling in a half circle in front of Virgil and his miserable collection of seeds. They stood only several inches tall and were dressed in leaves and petals. A pair stepped forward in front of the rest; they were holding hands.

“Hello, hello!” The one on the right chirped, waving up with his free hand. He had gorgeous light blue butterfly wings that fluttered when he spoke. “We heard you crying and came to see, to see! What happened here, here?”

Virgil sniffled, wiping away his tears and snot on his sleeve. “Well, um,” he hiccupped and took a deep breath. “It’s the Lady of the Summer Court. She wants me to sort all of these seeds by type before tonight, but I have no idea how I’m going to do that so she’s definitely going to kill me!” He slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a sob, tears running down his face.

“Easy now,” a new voice murmured as two little hands pressed against his knee. Virgil blinked his eyes open to see the second pixie - this one with veiny wings like a beetle’s - rubbing his leg soothingly. “You need to take slow, deep breaths to calm yourself.”

Virgil nodded and attempted to follow suit, counting to four on each inhale and exhale until the tears had slowed and he was able to relax somewhat to continue the conversation. “Th-thank you, um, what are your names?”

“You can call me Pat, Pat!” The first pixie announced twirling himself up into the air and drifting back down again.

“Ah, so you are quite new around here,” the second pixie mused, keeping his hands on Virgil’s leg. “You may call me Lo. Names have great power to the fae and it is imperative that you do not give yours away lightly, else someone may have complete control over your will.”

“But the Lady of the Summer Court already knows my name, and so did Jan- her son.”

“At any point did you give it to them, though?”

Virgil thought back over the last few weeks. “No… no, they both just, sorta, knew it somehow. Oh, uh, I guess you can call me Vee, then?”

Lo nodded. “Then it is likely they only heard your name somewhere, but they do not own it. Do you understand? They can exert some measure of power over you, but they cannot remove your free will entirely. Now then. Why is it the Lady wants you dead?” The pixie offered a small smile, nodding his head as Virgil explained how he got into this situation, that he knew Janus (though he referred to him as Jay), and why he wasn’t with the other fae anymore. When he finished, it was Pat who puffed up angrily.

“The Lady has gone too far, too far! You didn’t mean to make those people leave, leave! And it sounds like you didn’t actually make a binding promise, so Jay is acting a bit silly, bit silly. So, we’re gonna help you sort these seeds, and get everything cleared up, up!”

Logan nodded in agreement. “Indeed. Pat, you stay here with the others to aid Vee. I am going to go have a word with our feathered friend.” With that, Lo leaned in, kissed Pat’s cheek, and flew off down the mountainside.

Virgil watched the glint of Lo’s wings until he was out of sight, then turned back to the remaining pixies to watch as their quick, tiny hands got to work on the grains. “So… how do you know Jay?

Pat grinned widely up at him. “Jay is one of the Princes of Spring, Spring!” He works with love magic, and helped Lo and I get together decades ago in exchange for our help weaving that pretty gate in front of his palace, his palace!”

While they continued to converse, the pixies worked away at the seeds to form six unique piles, sorted from darkest to lightest. Before long, the entire jumbled mass had been reorganized without a single seed out of place. Once their job was complete, the five other pixies twittered their goodbyes and flew off up the mountain. Only Pat remained, sitting on his knee and chattering away as the sun set. Virgil shivered as a chill breeze licked at his exposed skin.

A sudden snap rent the night air, spooking Virgil, who lurched forward to cradle Pat in his hands protectively. Looking over his shoulder, he felt like vomiting when he saw the Lady of Summer standing over the grain piles with her arms crossed. He internally thanked any of the spirits who may be on his side that her chest was covered this time.

“This is not your work,” she hissed. “These were not organized by your hand, but by his!” She pointed an accusing finger at Pat, who had been peeking around Virgil’s arm but quickly hid back against his chest at the attention. “How dare you attempt to deceive me, you cretin!”

With a wordless shriek, the Lady lashed out with her vicious claws, aiming for the unmarked side of Virgil’s face. He scrambled back on his hands and heels, his ass dragging on the ground while Pat clung to the front of his shirt. Before she could take a second swipe, however, the dust and grit kicked up around them, obscuring their vision.

With his eyes covered, Virgil could only hear the flapping of large wings that cut off before there was the thud of a body dropping in front of him. Opening his eyes, he gasped. There, with his back to Virgil, stood Janus, with his great wings spread wide and his claws flexed at his sides. Lo, who had been holding onto the fae’s shoulder, now zipped down to the pair on the ground, holding Pat close and ensuring he was unharmed while the pixies huddled together on Virgil’s lap.

“You will not lay another hand on him,” Janus hissed, standing over Virgil protectively. Virgil felt Pat grip his thumb, but he couldn’t look away from the pair above them.

“What are you doing? Get out of the way, my son.”

“No. You wanted your revenge on him, and you got it. Look at him; he’s terrified, injured, and exhausted. The original disrespect against you was not even intentionally caused by him; it was the doing of numerous others. I do not fault you for your affront, but you are carrying on like a tantruming toddler!”

The Lady of Summer took a step back and clutched at her bosom. “You dare to speak to me like that?”

“I do, and so does the rest of the Seelie Court.” Virgil watched as Janus rolled his shoulders back and stood straighter. The Prince of Spring then reached into a bag tied at his hip and pulled out some sort of wooden charm dangling from a hemp rope. At the sight of it the Lady of Summer gasped and covered her mouth. “I have spoken before the Queen and her retinue, and she has decreed you will leave this mortal alone. In exchange, he will return to his town and gather a proper celebration for you by the end of this month.”

Virgil held his breath, not daring to twitch a muscle as he awaited his fate. The Lady of Summer let nothing show in her expression, but the hard lines of her face had softened attractively as Janus spoke. She shifted, looking over Janus shoulder and directly at Virgil. “You. You will do as this deal demands?”

Nodding rapidly, Virgil held up his hand in oath. “I will, I promise. I’ll go back home and speak with the curator of the Spirit’s Temple. We’ll host another festival and you’ll get the offerings you were supposed to be given at the start of the month.”

As if a switch had been flipped, the Lady of the Summer Court beamed a smile and grasped her hands over her heart. “Well then! That wasn’t so hard, was it! My dear, smart son, finding a way to set things right. I’m so proud of you, my little songbird.” Looking at her son, she cooed and cupped Janus’ cheek to tilt him up to kiss his forehead, smiling at his grumbling. “I won’t linger much longer, don’t you worry. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of my future son-in-law after all! I’ll see you soon, Virgil, dear,” she called, a cool edge to her voice for a moment before she smiled brightly once more and waggled her fingers. With a dramatic wave of her hands, the Lady of Summer vanished once more.

A quiet settled over the remaining quartet, broken by a tinny clearing of a throat. Lo stood in Virgil’s lap, tugging Pat up next to him. “I believe it is time for us to depart as well. I am relieved we were able to arrive in time to prevent any harm coming to you, Vee.” The pixie looked from Janus to Virgil and smiled. “Let us know when you are in the woods, we would enjoy visiting under more ideal circumstances. Farewell, for now.”

“Goodbye, Vee, Vee!”

In a flash, the pair of pixies flew off into the night, their hands held tight together. They flew loops and circles over the others before darting off in the direction the other pixies had traveled hours ago.

On the ground, Janus helped Virgil to his feet. He cooed in sympathy, tenderly touching the tips of his fingers beneath the angry red cuts on Virgil’s cheek. “I am so sorry for what she has done to you, darling. And I am even more sorry that my own actions drove you from the safety of my side. I was meant to protect you from unearned rage, but instead I subjected you to further punishment and drove you towards your would-be killer. If I hadn’t gotten here in time-” Janus exhaled heavily, his wings sagging behind him. “I am so sorry, Virgil.”

“I mean, I’m not gonna say it’s okay, because none of this has been okay, but, I guess I can understand where you were coming from. If I were as attractive as you, I’d also be worried about people taking advantage of me.” Virgil blushed and dragged his big toe through the dirt. “So, yeah, I forgive you, or whatever.” He looked up with a fire in his eyes and jabbed his finger into the center of Janus’ chest. “But don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?”

Janus hands cupped around his own, cradling it close. “I swear, to the end of my days, I will treat you with the dignity and respect you deserve, my dearest.”

Despite the tenderness of the gesture, Virgil was unmoved. “I mean it, Janus. If you want us to work out, then I can’t be afraid that you’re going to banish me from your home every time you get upset. It’s not a relationship if you’re going to treat me like I’m disposable. I’m worth more than that. If you want more reassurance, or something, on my promises, then we can work something out, but what you put me through was terrifying, and I can’t go through it again. I won’t.”

Janus sighed, holding Virgil’s hands up to his lips and resting there a moment before slowly gathering Virgil into his arms. His embrace was loose enough to break, if Virgil wanted. “I understand, darling, and I will never be able to apologize enough for what I have done. However, it is not my words you want, but my actions, and I will do whatever you desire of me in order to make it up to you.” He cupped Virgil’s uninjured cheek. “I want us to work, too.”

There was a long pause as Virgil searched Janus’ golden eyes for any signs of deception. When he found only an earnest honesty, Virgil allowed himself to be held closer. He wasn’t sure which of them moved next, but they came together as one, lips pressing softly at first before quickly gaining heat. Then he was spun and dipped down, laughing hard as he clung to Janus’ shoulders, the fae’s wings held aloft to keep them balanced.

Maybe ‘future husband’ didn’t sound so bad after all.

#anxceit #healthy anxciet #virgil sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides #fae au #eros and psyche #squid scribbles

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thinkingisadangerouspastime · 4 years ago

Text

avatar state/cycle

Written for Day 3 of @aangweek! Read here on AO3.

~*~

3. avatar state/cycle - someone has drained the color from my wings / broken my fairy circle ring

Toph couldn’t explain the feeling.

The sand in the desert alone had made it thrice as hard for her to discern anything about her surroundings, so if Toph was honest, she had next to no idea of what happened when Aang learned who’d stolen Appa. Wind and sand had bitten at her face, she recalled, and dug into the corners of her eyes. Sokka had grabbed her arm, pulling her backwards and yelling for everyone to run. Other than that, it had all been… imperceptible.

There had been power in the air, though. Power that had crackled over her skin like lightning, burning a hole through her chest. So Toph may not have known the details of what was happening around her, but when Aang spoke with the voice of a thousand ancient, aching souls… Her blood had run cold.

And yet, not even two minutes later, the roaring wind had died.

Toph didn’t understand. Maybe - Maybe part of her was afraid to. To learn the source of such raw strength, raw energy. But she needed to know. She owed Aang that, at least, didn’t she? Because it was her fault. Hers and hers alone that the sandbenders had stolen Appa.

But Toph didn’t dare ask Aang himself. The guilt gnawing at her insides only worsened whenever she was within a few feet of her friend. She’d nearly asked Sokka, but a thought had occurred to her moments before she’d readied herself to approach him.

Toph… didn’t remember Sokka grabbing his little sister while they were in the desert. This recollection - or lack thereof - led her to conclude that maybe, just maybe… Katara had been with Aang. If that was true, then she’d know better than anyone what had happened after Appa was stolen.

Asking Katara was harder than asking Sokka, though, for reasons Toph couldn’t quite place. Reasons she didn’t want to place.

But Toph willed herself to ask. She was an earthbender, after all - she had to face her problems head-on, because they weren’t going to disappear on their own. They would only grow heavier and heavier and heavier on her back until she squared her shoulders and threw the weight off of her own accord.

Toph waited until a night where Sokka and Aang were asleep already. Katara was usually the last to fall asleep, anyways - something about her connection to the moon - but Aang tended to stay up with her. Not tonight, though. He’d passed out seconds after collapsing next to Sokka. Such timing had worked out in Toph’s favor.

She crept across their camp with light footsteps so as not to wake their friends. Katara wasn’t far away - only ten or so feet from their weakly flickering fire, her back against a large rock that crested out the ground. If the purring Toph heard was any indication, the waterbender was petting Momo, too.

Toph lowered herself next to Katara, unsure of how to initiate a conversation. Thankfully, her friend had it covered.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Katara’s voice was quiet. Gentle.

Toph shrugged. “Could’ve. Chose not to.”

Katara chuckled. “Alright. Care to share why you’ve chosen to stay awake, then?”

Toph’s mouth went dry. All thoughts of preparation and readiness went out the window as she was struck with a paralyzing notion - what if Katara blamed her for Appa being stolen, too?

There was a pause. “You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to,” Katara hastily reassured her. “I just…” She exhaled. “I’m here to listen if you need it, okay?”

Toph licked her lips. It was now or never. “I - I have a question, actually,” she managed to say without her voice cracking. She flexed her palms, tension already rising in her body. “What… What happened in the desert? With the sandbenders?” She took a deep breath. “With Aang?”

There was another pause, this one longer than before. Toph might have feared Katara had walked away if she hadn’t been able to feel her friend through the large stone they both still rested against.

Katara sighed. “You must be talking about the Avatar state.”

Toph frowned. “The what?”

“The Avatar state. Did your parents not tell you about it when you were little?”

Toph snorted. “The history of the Avatar wasn’t exactly covered in my personal schooling. My parents were more worried about my ability to walk in a straight line without slouching.” Not to mention no one in her household had expected the Avatar to resurface. As far as her parents had been concerned, the Avatar had never existed. They were nothing more than a legend of the less fortunate.

“Oh.” Katara grimaced. Toph could hear the expression in her friend’s voice. “Right.” She shifted, causing Momo to release a low mrp. “Well, the Avatar state is like… the Avatar at their most powerful,” she explained. “They have access to the knowledge of all the previous Avatars, so they can perform incredible feats of bending with all four elements, even if they haven’t mastered certain elements themselves yet.”

Toph nodded. “So… Aang went into the Avatar state when we met the sandbenders?”

“Yes, exactly.”

That explained the sheer power weighing in the air, fizzing over her skin like static and threatening to paralyze her. And the voices. Those must have been the voices of past Avatars, channeling their power and their rage through Aang.

Toph’s brows furrowed. “Okay. I… I think I understand.” She bent earth beneath her right palm, just to give her body another task to focus on besides the anxiety clinging to the back of her throat. “But what actually happened then? When he went into the Avatar state?”

“What do you mean?” Katara asked, puzzled.

“I” - spirits, why was this so hard for her to articulate? - “I couldn’t see out there. There was wind and sand and energy and -” Toph cut herself off with a helpless shrug. “And fear.”

So much fear. Maybe hers, maybe Aang’s, maybe both.

Toph’s fingers curled into the ground. “I guess… why Aang went into the Avatar, what that means, is what I don’t get.”

“Oh.” There was a note of recognition in Katara’s voice. A sort of… acknowledgement, maybe, that hadn’t been present before. Whatever it was, Toph was grateful for it.

“I think I understand what you’re asking now.” Katara chuckled. “Although I’m struggling to figure out how to explain the Avatar state without using too many visual details.” She bumped Toph’s shoulder with her own. “Telling you his eyes and arrows started glowing blue doesn’t mean much, does it?”

Toph snorted. “No, not really.”

“I figured.” Katara hummed, contemplative. “Okay. Think about it this way.” There was another mrp as Momo was presumably disturbed from his slumber once more. “The Avatar state is… an instinct. Sokka would probably call it a defense mechanism.”

Toph frowned. “Wait. If it’s an instinct, how does Aang control it?” When she’d first learned earthbending from the badgermoles, her instinct had stopped boulders from crushing her, but she’d also sent them flying every which way. Did Aang -

“He doesn’t,” Katara said. “Not really. The Avatar state activates in moments of… need, I guess?” She sighed. “It’s hard to explain. Whenever Aang is under some kind of intensity, like - like emotional or physical stress, the Avatar state might be activated.”

“So it’s kind of… to protect him?” Toph thought back to the descriptor of a defense mechanism. It sounded like the Avatar state was almost a shield. A reaction to some form of pain. Which meant in the desert, he’d…

“Yeah, protection is a good way to describe it!” Katara laughed. “Though it’s the most offensive defense I’ve ever seen.”

Katara’s words entered Toph’s mind through a haze. In the desert, none of them had been injured. Tired, yes, dehydrated, sure, but not injured. Which meant for Aang to have entered the Avatar state…

It must have been because of emotional pain.

“Anyways,” Katara continued after a pause. “I’m only guessing at this point, but I think learning what happened to Appa just… overwhelmed Aang. So his body reacted in response. Tried to protect him from his own emotions.”

Momo started purring again. Toph guessed Katara had resumed her gentle petting of the lemur.

“When Aang found Monk Gyatso’s skeleton at the Southern Air Temple,” Katara whispered, her voice laced with a quiet grief, “he… he had the same reaction.”

Toph swallowed the lump in her throat. She would not cry. “So it was sadness, then,” she said when she was certain her voice wouldn’t waver. Devastation. “Anger.” Rage. “Fear.” Terror.

Toph clenched the front fabric of her tunic. “Just… hurt.”

There was a pause. “Yeah,” Katara confirmed. Her tone was almost… mournful. “He’s already lost everything, and now -” She cut herself off with a sharp inhale. Toph didn’t need Katara to finish to know what would be said.

Now Appa’s gone, too.

Toph couldn’t stop a tear from slipping out. She rubbed it away, praying Katara would interpret her action as one of exhaustion instead of guilt.

But maybe Katara was crying, too. The silence meant Toph had no way of knowing.

“Come on,” Katara finally said. “We should get to bed. We’ll be travelling on foot for now, so that means we need as much rest as we can get.”

Toph flinched. “Right.” But before Katara could stand up, Toph grabbed her arm. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For taking the time to… talk with me.”

Katara smiled at her. Toph didn’t need to see to know that. “Anytime.”

The next morning, Toph awoke at the crack of dawn. After a more restful night than she’d had in days, perhaps waking earlier was to be expected. Even better, Twinkle Toes was already up. Based on the heat in the air, he’d started cooking breakfast for them over a new fire, too.

Toph marched over to Aang’s side and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. She ignored his startled yelp, instead squeezing him tighter. “We will get Appa back,” she whispered. “I promise.”

A beat passed. Aang wrapped his arms around her in response. “Thank you,” he murmured. His own embrace tightened. “I know we will.”

Toph was never going to let him feel such a hurt again.

~*~

it was not intentional but i think there's some major katophaang vibes from this ficlet, lmao (i have no regrets). i hope to see you tomorrow for day 4 - dance. thank you for reading!

#aang #aang week #toph beifong #katara #atla #avatar the last airbender #aanglove #atla fanfic #atla fanfiction #katophaang vibes tbh although that was not the point of the fic jskdjasdkals #appa #amy writes

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guiltysecretpasttime · 4 years ago

Text

Grey Eyes

This is in response to a prompt I received:

camryn-bria I have a Linzin headcanon that there is a secret (airbending) child. Could you write a one-shot of Tenzin finding out Lin is pregnant after breaking up with her.

I’ll probably put in a better summary, tags or notes later on. But hope you enjoy this 😊

(So I had too much fun (maybe) with this and it ended up being a two-parter rather than a one-shot, hope this is okay)

Lin/Tenzin pre-canon fanfic | 1 of 2

Legend of Korra

---

Despite what the public thought, Chief Toph Beifong was not a heartless person.

While truly a strong woman, it did not mean she did not have emotions. Family and friends played a huge role in occupying a space in her heart.

Family.

It was precisely because of family why she was pacing in front of the doctor’s examination room.

Toph closed her eyes in worry.

Of her two daughters, Lin was the one most like her.

Her youngest daughter, Suyin, at her current state, probably was who her own mother wanted her to be.

Initially scoffed at and at the brink of being of being disrespected, Toph Beifong later on was reputed to be one of the toughest police chiefs that the region has even had.

She had welcomed her daughter during her second year as a police chief of Republic City. The father, unfortunately, passed.

Lin’s father was Toph’s fellow detective. Toph had just given birth to her and was out of the force when Kanto responded to a call. He was hit and he died.

Since then, Toph promised herself that it would simply not do to miss time at work.

The first few months of raising Lin were particularly difficult. She had then elected to live near her married friends, Aang and Katara.

Toph took it hard – spent time away from Lin for the next months and sent her to Air Temple Island. She eventually got back to her senses, realizing her daughter needed her and had reached back to take care of Lin.

Lin always wanted to be like her mother and the father she barely met. Suyin, on the other hand, well, that was another story.

“Mom.”

Toph’s reverie was interrupted by the soft voice of her eldest child.

“Oh, Lin.”

In Lin’s hand was an ultrasound photo of a child, Lin took her mother’s hand and read out to her the notes on the photo.

Indeed, Lin was the child most like her mother.

---

What was he doing here? He has some nerve.

“Aunt Toph?

She tried to ignore the tall bald man in her office.

“Aunt Toph?”

Persistent little bugger, eh?

“That’s Chief Beifong to you.” She felt him squirm and fidget. “The citizens desk is on the other floor. Or have you gotten lost?”

“I, uh, no. I actually wanted to see Lin.”

“Captain Beifong, you mean.”

She felt him flinch. Good.

“I -.”

“Don’t you worry your bald head about it, Master Tenzin.” Aspersion dripping with every word. “Captain Beifong is away on suspension. She won’t be bothering you any time soon.”

“But – no! I didn’t come here to complain or file charges.” Toph could here the shock at Tenzin’s voice. “You didn’t have to – she didn’t need to be suspended!”

Chief Beifong ignored him. “Captain Beifong caused destruction to property – Air Temple Island’s reconstruction will be done soonest – and basically threatened you, a government official. She would have received worse.”

“But -.”

“Is there anything else, Councilman?”

“Uhm, no. I’ll just drop by Lin’s.”

“She not there,” Toph felt the airbender pause at her door. “She’s suspended until further notice; and she been sent away from Republic City.”

---

At least that was what the press was informed, to explain away the disappearance of a prominent person

But internally, with the higher ups in the Republic City Police Department, they knew differently. They were told that she was out undercover and they better not try to make contact – or there will be consequences.

Toph was proud of her daughter’s strategy. She had been an absentee mother in the past years. She wanted to make up for it by supporting Lin’s decisions.

Even if it meant no contact with her in the next months.

---

Lin found herself in a remote Earth Kingdom town which used to be a Fire Nation colony. She had come to this place years ago in a recon mission and had known that there were a good mix of nations, making it easy to blend in.

Her current mission was not anything dangerous – just another reconnaissance mission to look into whether there was some truth to the formation of a new organization similar to the New Ozai Society, who would seek to undermine the United Republic.

As someone fresh out of her 20s, Lin thought she was (or she should be) fit enough for the job at the local bar. Thankfully, she was able to convince the barkeep to hire her even after telling him of her predicament (she wondered if maybe the man really just needed help so badly). She also figured it was a good place to get in with the locals and, well, the local gossip.

Lin opted to keep her first name (common as it was anyway), rented a small apartment unit walking distance from the city center, and now, had landed a job (that hopefully placed her in a good spot to fulfill her mission) which paid adequate wages.

She felt she was prepared to start anew – a new job, a new mission, and a baby on the way.

---

Tenzin huffed as he consulted his map.

He had gone to Gaoling, to the Beifong ancestral home (that was were Suyin was sent there before anyway. But Lin wasn’t there.

He even went out of his way and chanced a visit to Zaofu.

Su was surprised to see him and, no, she has not seen or talked to her sister in years.

Instead, the airbender got a slap for his efforts (“You idiot! You broke my sister’s heart!” “You weren’t even talking to her! You don’t know what’s with her.” “I knew enough to know that she loves you!”).

He tossed the map aside. He was stumped; he didn’t know where else to look for Lin.

He did not even notice his mother, watching from the doorway of his study, looking at him with concern.

---

“Hey, get away from him!”

“Eh! And what’re you gunn’ do ‘bout that lady?”

“I’ll show you!”

“What the -!”

“Scram!”

“Alright, we’re going – we’re going!”

The earthbender turned to the young man on the ground (maybe late teens or early twenties in age, she guessed) who was of Water Tribe ethnicity. “Hey kid, are you okay?”

“I’m fine – didn’t need your help.” The man grumbled, standing up and dusting himself.

“Right.” The woman stated, obviously not believing it as she had just walked across the scene of several benders pulling up by his collar, whether they were mugging him or not, she did not wait to find out before launching some rocks from the road at the thieves. “Of course, you didn’t need help. You had it all in control, didn’t you?” She deadpanned.

The man rolled his eyes. “A truth seer, aren’t you?”

She crossed her arms. “Maybe.”

“No – I don’t think so.” The water tribe man shook his head. “Thanks though.”

The earthbender extended to shake his hand.

“Lin.”

He clasped it with his own.

“Noatak.”

----

Months passed and Tenzin had not lost hope in finding Lin, but he had to admit that the hope was fast dwindling.

Twice Chief Beifong had said that Captain Beifong’s whereabouts were none of his business and that she will put his sorry ass in jail if he pried once more.

Neither Chief Beifong or anyone from his family shared any input to the media as to his relationship status. The disappearance of Lin Beifong and the sudden reconstruction of some of the pavilions at Air Temple Island made up much of the chatter and gossip though.

His cheerless disposition just about confirmed everything anyway.

---

Meanwhile, in the Earth Kingdom, Lin finally gathered enough courage to send out a letter to Tenzin. She had used a post office’s box from two towns away to ensure that he would not be led directly to her should he decide to respond.

After contemplating on the matter for the past months, and after finally admitting to herself, she decided to give Tenzin the option to be a father to their child.

It was the least she could do. She did not want her (their) child to grow up without a father if he was willing to be there. She knew, she grew up with, the alternative to that.

We may no longer be together, but it does not change the fact that this child is yours as well. I’m giving you this chance – to either declare this child as your own or to simply ignore and disregard this. I am fully capable of raising this child as my own so I am open to giving you an out.

Well then, so the proverbial ball was in the airbender’s court.

Gently, placing a hand on her now visible pregnant belly, Lin knew the waiting game has started.

---

In an ill-conceived attempt to raise his spirits, the Air Acolytes of Air Temple Island saw it fit to host a birthday celebration for him. His mother had given it a go signal as she was also at her wits’ end to help bolster his mood. Even the passing of her husband (his father) did not seem to have dragged him down this way.

What Katara did not know, however, was that the press had somewhat managed to get in with the festivities as well.

The papers for the next few days ran a feature on the last airbender’s birthday celebration. They also printed a picture of him with just about any single female he talked to during the party.

This was followed by a steady stream of letters and messages poured into Air Temple Island as well as into Tenzin’s office at city hall.

The first few letters, Tenzin had deigned to read.

But after the seventeenth letter, the airbender, with a furious blush on his skin, went to the kitchen where his mother was calmly instructing an acolyte for tonight’s dinner.

“Mother!”

Katara dismissed the acolyte before turning to her son. “What is it?” She held out her hand to take one of the letters that Tenzin was waving at her.

The waterbender briefly went through the letter. It appeared that –

“They have been sending me propositions!” Tenzin exasperatedly explained, showing the envelopes with addresses coming from different parts of the world. “Ever since the broadsheets and tabloids have been putting in these features about me being single.” He continued to pace in the kitchen while Katara went through the other letters. The content was fairly similar – a Fire Nation noble offering his daughter in marriage, an Air Acoylte from the Eastern Temple sharing her daughter’s knowledge of all things Air Nomad culture, an Earth Kingdom merchant living in the upper ring boasting of his niece… “I’m not interested in any of these, Mother. I just – I just -.” He took a deep breath. “I need to find Lin. It’s only been Lin.”

Katara could believe that.

“I know – Mother, if letters come to the island for me, please send it to my office. I’ll have my secretary handle them.”

And with that, Tenzin swept away, leaving Katara to only wonder and hope that whatever he thought of would truly help him out.

---

I see.

So he has made his choice.

Lin gripped tightly the letter she received in response to the one she had sent.

She tried but there was nothing she owed him now.

The earthbender then tossed the letter into her drawer, to be hidden from prying eyes, to try and forget its existence.

Thank you for your interest but I already have a life partner.

I would like to request for your respect in this avenue and refrain from sending any more letters in this similar vein.

Respectfully yours,

Tenzin

---

Noatak knocked on the door one more time.

Lin was nearing her due date and the barkeep had place a notice for a reliever, a substitute while Lin was out.

The Water Tribe man took the opportunity – he had been juggling different jobs in town anyway so what’s one more?

Lin had been showing the ropes to him the past few days and was always ever so prompt so that they have enough time before opening.

This was why he stood at her front door now. The earthbender failed to show up at their regular time and so he worried.

“Lin? Are you there?”

There was no answer.

Something felt very wrong.

He looked to the left and looked to the right. No one was around and so putting his entire weight on it, he hit his shoulder against the door several times until it gave way.

“LIN!”

To his shock and horror, the pregnant lady slumped unconscious at her living room, blood surrounding her at the floor.

Noatak hurried to her, feeling her pulse and closing his eyes.

He had been hiding a secret for so long, no one knew in this new life he had been living. As far as they knew, he was a non-bender – no one had paused to ask, except this woman who had asked him and had graciously not pried further when he said he did not want to talk about his past. He knew she was trying to start a new life, but he wasn’t sure why. She respected him enough as well to leave him to his privacy.

That day when the muggers had almost done him in, he thought that would have been the end of it, revenge be damned. To his surprise, someone did intervene for him.

Enough reminiscing for now though, because now, this woman needed him.

Taking a deep breath, Noatak reached forward his arms, allowing him to feel the push and pull from the two lives in front of him, not in the way his father wanted him to but to save these lives.

---

Tenzin was absentmindedly tapping his pen on today’s agenda in the council meeting.

The monotony of his responsibilities to the city barely weighed on him now.

It was the same old routine at the council.

His interest was peaked when the doors opened and a man, who he recognized as Chief Beifong’s trusted secretary, hurried over to the Chief of Police’s side, whispering quickly.

Toph Beifong suddenly stood up, muttering her excuses to the rest of the attendees of the council meeting and left (something about an urgent matter regarding one of her subordinates’ mission?).

---

“Chief, it would appear that the Captain has now given birth to a daughter.”

“What! I need to get to her.”

“Unfortunately, protocols still state that no contact be made -.”

“But I’m her mother.”

“Please, Chief Beifong, Captain Beifong explicitly indicated that in her report as well. Everything is okay and not to let you go to her as it would impact her cover.”

Nonetheless, this did not stop Toph Beifong from instructing her secretary to send off a large box of baby things to a remote town in the Earth Kingdom.

---

The last airbender quickly made his way out of the restaurant where that farce of a stilted family dinner (that his mother insisted on) was still on-going.

It had been uncomfortable enough when Chief Beifong arrived, nary a word towards him but quite civil with his mother and their visitors. At some point during the meal, the Fire Lord started to pass around photographs of his teenaged grandson and even Chief Beifong was obliged to share photos of her own grandchildren.

Tenzin tried to ignore the longing gaze his mother had on the photographs.

He met the eyes of his brother, who coincidentally was stationed this week near Republic City, who in turn shrugged back at him.

Yeah, that’s not happening. Unless someone comes forward to speak up about the fruits of Bumi having sown his wild oats, their mother would need to wait a little longer to have her own grandchild.

“And who might this be?” His mother brought up a photo of a baby.

“Did Su have another child?” Fire Lord Zuko peered at the small plastic booklet that Toph had fished from her uniform’s pocket.

“Eh?” Toph reached out to get it back, fingers running through the little indentions at the edge, helping her identify the labels on the photos.

Tenzin did not miss the quick panic that showed on the metalbender’s face before it was back to her inscrutable expression.

“It’s an old photo of one of her boys.” She promptly placed the booklet of photos back into her pocket. “I must have taken it by accident.”

As the rest went about their meal, Tenzin could not help but revert to the photograph of the baby. The baby appeared to be a couple of months old and…there was something that was niggling the back of his head about the child.

Conversation went to work, the new policies in the United Forces, the statue of Fire Lord Zuko in Republic City… They were all pleasantries that Tenzin did not want to talk about.

As soon as it was acceptable, he had excused himself from dinner, citing an urgent deliverable from city hall. No one tried to stop him and everyone took it at face value. He had, after all, buried himself into work in the past months in between trying to look for Lin. The airbender simply did not believe anymore that she was merely suspended from the Force after being absent for more than a year now.

Tenzin thought that Suyin Beifong, by now, would have an idea as to her sister’s whereabouts. Recalling their last interaction, however, he rubbed his cheek gingerly in recollection, he felt he needed to soften her up first.

Coming from that awkward dinner conversation, he had an idea.

Her children!

And that was how the airbender found himself at the nearest open store that catered to mothers that carried items (food, clothes, furniture, you name it) for their children.

Tenzin had a vague recollection on how old Su’s children were. He was unsure, though, as to what do kids at those age need or want. He figured that the store’s clerk would know and headed to the store’s counter, waiting until the clerk finished assisting two ladies in selecting the best bassinet that the store offers.

The airbender leaned on the glass counter, tapping absentmindedly as he was wont to do when waiting --- when he saw a brown box just behind the counter hidden from view of the common customer (it just so happened he was tall and nosy enough to see it). There was a small sticky note that caught his attention:

Monthly order of Chief Beifong.

Why on earth would Aunt Toph have a monthly order at this place when her own children have long since grown up?

Tenzin twisted his neck to peer at the label of the box, to check the address, thinking that maybe it was headed to Zaofu for Suyin and her kids.

To his confusion, it was to a place within the Earth Kingdom.

Tenzin froze.

What if…it was to another daughter and grandchild?

The photograph!

He now realized what bothered him – the baby in the photo was relatively fair-skinned and he was sure both of Su and Baatar’s children were tanned. Su was also not pregnant back when he last saw her so it could not have been a new Zaofu Beifong baby.

Toph Beifong would be hard-pressed to care about children or babies unless they were related to her.

This left Tenzin with only one plausible explanation.

The airbender then left the store, hurriedly making plans to get to the Earth Kingdom by the next day.

----

And there she was – as radiant as the last time he saw her (never mind that it was in the middle of the unleashing of her powerful fury upon his childhood home).

With a pang, Tenzin saw Lin Beifong carrying a baby, accompanied by a tall (and very young, Tenzin thought unpleasantly) man who appeared to be of Water Tribe descent. The two were engrossed in conversation that they missed the airbender who had been staring after them.

Tenzin had arrived at the town square and was about to head to the address he had committed to memory when he saw Lin. He was about to approach her when the Water Tribe man intercepted her. The airbender noted the familiarity with which the two interacted (it felt like the air was being squeezed out of his lungs). The man offered to take what Tenzin assumed to be a baby bag and Lin had easily acquiesced.

He surreptitiously followed Lin, unsure where they were going but not wanting to take the risk of losing sight of the earthbender he had been searching for quite some time now.

As he watched every exchange of the two, Tenzin could not help but feel at a loss. He had tried to think of every possible scenario, of what he would say, what he would do once he found Lin.

But none of the scenarios he imagined prepared him for the reality.

He never did imagine finding Lin as a mother.

He never did imagine finding Lin with a partner.

And she looked – content.

Tenzin felt a pit form at the bottom of his stomach. Could he – should he – possibly ruin this with his appearance?

Call him selfish but…he’ll try just one last time. If there was an inkling, of the slightest chance of a future with Lin --- he’ll gamble it.

For himself. For Lin.

---

“Jinora, sweetheart, be a good girl for Noatak first, please? Mama needs to work for a bit.”

The eight-month-old child burrowed herself further into her mother’s arms but nodded nonetheless. “Good girl.” Lin gave her daughter a kiss on the forehead as the younger man hoisted the child, anchoring her to his hip.

Lin had gone back to work on a part-time basis, but more on the management side of the bar (accounting, menu planning, etc) rather than being actually behind the counter, serving the customers like before. The barkeep was pleased with Noatak’s performance during Lin’s maternity leave that he had decided to hire him full-time.

They would usually come to the bar before opening hours, Lin to check on the previous night’s accounting and Noatak with preparing with the rest of the crew.

Lin was scheduled to start with the local bookstore soon on her off-days from the bar.

Today, it was accounting morning at the bar. She would usually be able to have an hour or two of continuous work while the crew would take turns looking after her daughter if she were awake. If not, Jinora would be placed on her sling and Lin could still comfortably work.

Getting out several folders and her writing implements, Lin pulled out a chair near the window, preferring the natural light while working.

She managed to work for around ten minutes when a shadow fell on her work; before she could even raise her head to address who or what was blocking her light, she turned her head to the inner part of the bar as she heard her name being called.

“Liiiin!”

---

When he saw the Water Tribe man leave Lin with the child, Tenzin saw his chance.

He took some time to deliberate though; he observed her quietly, soaking in his view of the woman he had let go (and would be claiming back, if she would have him).

He took a bracing breath and entered the bar.

“Lin!”

Lin would look up at him. “Tenzin! What are you doing here?”

He would kneel – “I’m so sorry Lin, I know you have a child, I’ll love her like she were my own – I promise to treat you better than Mr Water Tribe there. Please Lin Beifong please – I regret letting you go, if you’ll have me, I’ll want to spend the rest of my life proving my devotion to you. Please- Lin please.”

Then Lin would get up, maybe give him a slap harder than what Su gave him then give him a hug before making him work for it.

Before he could even say a single word to put his imagined scenario into action, another voice (that he was starting to dislike) rang out.

“Liiiin!”

“Yes, Noatak?” Lin stood up quickly to address the young man, who was carrying a giggling baby at arm’s length. “What is it? How is Jinora?”

Tenzin felt his heart skip a beat, that Lin named her daughter one of the names he wanted for their daughter… well, he was not sure how he felt about it. Maybe he will explore it a little bit more when he was alone but for now…

“I know I helped bring her into this world –,”

Tenzin blinked at the sudden hurt he felt at his chest at this.

“But please, Lin – take your evil spawn away from me.” Noatak thrusted the still giggling child dramatically back at her mother, half kidding and half exasperated. “You know how much time it takes me each more to fix my hair. Then this little girl here,” He tickles her side and Jinora squeals with laughter. “Decides to blow a gust of air to my face – imagine that!”

The airbender heard this and froze.

“I know you said this brat (“My daughter isn’t a brat!”) is part-Water Tribe,” He gestured to his now unkempt hair. “But I don’t think this is a sign of respecting her culture?”

“My daughter is acting fine.” Jinora kicked her chubby legs as though to prove a point, disturbing the dust on the floor. “And we did discuss this – no training until she’s older. I want her to have a normal childhood.”

“Ok then,” Noatak waved his hand and nodded, obviously agreeing. “Anyway, I’m in charge of family meal today so I better start prepping.” With one last tickle at the baby’s side, he left and headed to the kitchen.

Lin shook her head and called after him “I’ll pack up and get back to the books later!” It would seem her daughter was in a mood today.

Speaking of meals…

Jinora had been tugging at her chest. “Feeding time is it?”

Tenzin watched Lin smile softly at the baby, a smile he saw rarely, a smile that he only saw between the dark of the night and daybreak, in between sleep and wakefulness as they laid in bed together.

He cleared his throat to remove a lump that was forming, a signal of impending tears.

Lin had forgotten about the newcomer as she angled the baby go position her for feeding when she heard someone clear their throat.

“I’m sorry, how can I help –,” Her eyes met familiar grey ones. “You.”

---

There was a lot to take in.

The Earth Kingdom.

Lin.

The Water Tribe man (Noatak, he spat.)

Lin.

The baby.

The airbending baby.

Jinora.

There was no doubt on whose child Lin was carrying.

Tenzin pushed forward at the surprised earthbender to take them (her and their daughter!) into his arms.

----

Note: This is part one of two --- ooor we could end it there? 🤷🏼‍♀️ Let me know!

(how do you tag people anyway?? @camryn-bria

---

2 of 2 here.

#linzin #linzin fanfic #lin beifong #tenzin #legend of korra #lok fanfic #prompt #camryn-bria #toccatina's fanfics #toccatina completed

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missrkl · 4 years ago

Text

The Temple Chapter Three

Rachel felt the fire burning within her. A growing passion blazing like a fiery furnace. She wasn’t going to take this sitting down. Enough people had been lied to and hurt by the very same people preaching love, prosperity and peace. As the newspaper journalist once wrote about the place when placing a review on The Temple “like a bunch of quacks.” Although the journalist was talking about Adon’s Elysium language rather than the people themselves being quacks. Maybe they both meant it differently. Rachel didn’t like that. How dare the journalist make fun of Adon’s Elysium language, Tongues. It was a high privilege to learn to speak this language, in which Rachel herself was affluent in. Despite being angry about the segregation within The Temple, she was angry even more at those who dared to trash talk the place. She could trash talk the place because she came from there, but for an outsider to come in and trash the talk the place and it’s people without an ounce of understanding was just wrong. That was on a whole other level. Rachel felt the fire burning within her getting stronger. She was still here in the park with the gang, but now they were on the move. It was getting late and they needed to meet inside somewhere. Usually Ecclesiastes had a place. They followed him silently trudging through the park like a panther, voiceless, silent. This was their strength, they weren’t called The Voiceless for nothing. They trudged out of the park and walked down the road as different cars passed them by. The Temple’s meeting would have ended by now, and right by schedule the stragglers would soon be leaving the place. They always had eating after a meeting in the downstairs hall. One thing The Temple was good at was their impeccable timing. Schedules always ran on time, sermons always finished on point and in time, dance lessons, choir rehearsals always finished on time. Even the stragglers that left behind at the last moment always finished on time. Obedience to the highest degree. They were always obedient to their leaders, quick to listen and slow to speak, a trait of Adon, one that Rachel was proud of. Despite all the drama behind the scenes, there was many things Rachel knew was a divine privilege and something to thank Adon for. Like their sermons, highly theological, highly biblical and highly ethical, highly political, highly correct almost 99% of the time. Their training was also known for its highest quality that even outsiders wanted to join in but they couldn’t get in unless invited. It was rare for an outsider to make their way into their training. If there was one thing Rachel could boast about The Temple was the obedience of the people. Some people would argue that you couldn’t really blame the people, it was the leaders who made all the decisions, even in small group circles. It was very well controlled. Even friendships and social circles were highly controlled units, hence The Voiceless always remained voiceless.

They stood in the quiet darkness that shrouded The Temple as it was late. It was 930pm by now, the cleaners would be finished by 10pm. So they bided their time by sitting behind the wall, lurking in the shadows. Ecclesiastes had extra keys, they could use the downstairs hall without turning on the light, but relying on candles instead. They didn’t want to get caught. As they waited for the cleaners to leave, Rachel watched as Charles closed up. Charles was one of The Loyalists, he had been here a long time, his entire life in fact. Rachel watched Charles look around checking the place just before walking to get into his car and drive off. They waited a few minutes just in case he had forgotten something, but he didn’t come back. Ecclesiastes went up and opened the door and they all piled in as quiet as a mouse. Still silent they clambered down the stairs as silent as a cat’s furry paws hitting the carpet. They entered the lower hall and some of the gang went about taking out their candle sticks and candles and put them up in strategic places.

If there was one thing that Rachel was passionate about it was more than just about the segregation within the community, it was more and this something more was what Rachel was going to address the crowd this evening, after dinner. The people in charge of the food this evening took out their food they had stacked in their bags. Spaghetti, fried chicken, rice and beans, vegetable soup, bread and water. Something for everyone. Rachel sat on one of the chairs and tucked into her food. She wasn’t about to make small conversation just yet, she still felt the fire burning within her and it was burning so much that she knew if she didn’t speak it she herself would get burned. After dinner Rachel stood up at the front with Ecclesiastes by her side. Rachel raised her hand for the gang to become silent. Then Rachel spoke and said these words ““The law of Moses was unable to save us because of the weakness of our sinful nature. So God did what the law could not do. He sent his own Son in a body like the bodies we sinners have. And in that body God declared an end to sin’s control over us by giving his Son as a sacrifice for our sins. He did this so that the just requirement of the law would be fully satisfied for us, who no longer follow our sinful nature but instead follow the Spirit. Those who are dominated by the sinful nature think about sinful things, but those who are controlled by the Holy Spirit think about things that please the Spirit. So letting your sinful nature control your mind leads to death. But letting the Spirit control your mind leads to life and peace. For the sinful nature is always hostile to God. It never did obey God’s laws, and it never will. That’s why those who are still under the control of their sinful nature can never please God. And Christ lives within you, so even though your body will die because of sin, the Spirit gives you life because you have been made right with God. The Spirit of God, who raised Jesus from the dead, lives in you. And just as God raised Christ Jesus from the dead, he will give life to your mortal bodies by this same Spirit living within you.”

‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:3-8, 10-11‬ ‭NLT‬‬

They had the Holy Spirit, they were obedient to Him, the Spirit of Adon. Since they had the Spirit of Adon they could not remain voiceless and shouldn’t be treated like they have nothing good to say, as if they had no fire burning within them, like The Elites. Despite their hypocrisy they too had The Spirit of Adon, it was just their flesh crowding his voice out.

Rachel had paused for effect as the people listened, then she continued “ “Therefore, dear brothers and sisters, you have no obligation to do what your sinful nature urges you to do. For if you live by its dictates, you will die. But if through the power of the Spirit you put to death the deeds of your sinful nature, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For his Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God’s children. And since we are his children, we are his heirs. In fact, together with Christ we are heirs of God’s glory. But if we are to share his glory, we must also share his suffering.”

‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:12-14, 16-17‬ ‭NLT‬‬

They too were Adon’s children, they too were heirs to Christ, they too had their place in the kingdom and should never be treated as if they never did belong. Rachel continued ““Who dares accuse us whom God has chosen for his own? No one—for God himself has given us right standing with himself. Who then will condemn us? No one—for Christ Jesus died for us and was raised to life for us, and he is sitting in the place of honor at God’s right hand, pleading for us. Can anything ever separate us from Christ’s love? Does it mean he no longer loves us if we have trouble or calamity, or are persecuted, or hungry, or destitute, or in danger, or threatened with death? (As the Scriptures say, “For your sake we are killed every day; we are being slaughtered like sheep.”) No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us. And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord”

‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:33-39‬ ‭NLT‬‬

They did belong Adon, they were created to bring him glory too, and nobody, nobody was going to push them out. As Rachel stepped down from the front of the crowd, Ecclesiastes decided to speak something and got up in front of the crowd. Ecclesiastes was also a dark skinned man, darker than Rachel, he was a black man with black hair and black roots. He was a man with strong physical structure, good solid build and muscles from all the physical training he had done growing up. This is what he said ““I looked long and hard at what goes on around here, and let me tell you, things are bad. And people feel it. There are people, for instance, on whom God showers everything—money, property, reputation—all they ever wanted or dreamed of. And then God doesn’t let them enjoy it. Some stranger comes along and has all the fun. It’s more of what I’m calling smoke. A bad business. Whatever happens, happens. Its destiny is fixed. You can’t argue with fate. The more words that are spoken, the more smoke there is in the air. And who is any better off? And who knows what’s best for us as we live out our meager smoke-and-shadow lives? And who can tell any of us the next chapter of our lives?”

‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭6:1-2, 10-12‬ ‭MSG‬‬

Ecclesiastes paused for effect and then continued ““A good reputation is better than a fat bank account. Your death date tells more than your birth date. You learn more at a funeral than at a feast— After all, that’s where we’ll end up. We might discover something from it. Crying is better than laughing. It blotches the face but it scours the heart. Sages invest themselves in hurt and grieving. Fools waste their lives in fun and games. You’ll get more from the rebuke of a sage Than from the song and dance of fools. The giggles of fools are like the crackling of twigs Under the cooking pot. And like smoke. Brutality stupefies even the wise And destroys the strongest heart. Endings are better than beginnings. Sticking to it is better than standing out.”

‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭7:1-8‬ ‭MSG‬‬

Ecclesiastes was addressing all the fun and games of The Temple, they were far too focused on all of their events than they were in sharing The Gospel of Christ Jesus, or loving their neighbour like they loved themselves. No, they were far too focused on labelling people, placing them in categories that they think fits their mould. Religion, Adon Hates.

Ecclesiastes concluded ““I’ve seen it all in my brief and pointless life—here a good person cut down in the middle of doing good, there a bad person living a long life of sheer evil. So don’t knock yourself out being good, and don’t go overboard being wise. Believe me, you won’t get anything out of it. But don’t press your luck by being bad, either. And don’t be reckless. Why die needlessly?”

‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭7:15-17‬ ‭MSG‬‬

The Temple was far too focused on being good and perfect all of the time. Like The Elites, everything had to be just so, they led the entire church not just in worship, but in everything. They were held at a higher standard by Adon, and Adon wasn’t happy with the effects of their overly religous behaviour on silencing and labelling people as voiceless.

Rachel felt the fire within her die down, she had spoken what Adon’s spirit had told her to say, she was obedient to him, not man. They were above the law, because they obeyed the voice of the Spirit of Adon. Rachel had a flashback to when she first encountered Ecclesiastes and he had begun training her there in the shadows, she had found a way out of this broken society and being labelled a voiceless meaningless nobody that would forever be banished by society into a pit of despair with no hope for their future but being a silent witness to everything going on within The Temple. At least she was out now she had said to Him, indeed she was. This is where she belonged, fighting to bring The Gospel of Christ Jesus back into the midst of The Temple, getting rid of all the divides within The Temple and making sure everybody loved their neighbour as they loved themselves.

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sukiandthemarauders · 4 years ago

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FIRELIGHT (Zuko x OC) C1

word count: 2,989

warning: just mature language :)

a/n: This is chapter one of Firelight, excluding the prologue, and it MERELY shows a glimpse of Zuko and Kai’s future relationship :D I’m just going to pretend that I’m not already planning a Sokka fic because I’m just starting this one so... ENJOY!

<- Prologue | Chapter 2 ->

Masterlist

____________

Chapter 1

_________

“So when are the losers going to get here anyways?”

Kailani playfully rolled her eyes at Toph’s comment, knowing fully well that the earthbender missed the rest of their friends as much as she did. And as she stood in the edge of Air Temple Island with Toph, awaiting the arrival of her friends, she could feel the ball of excitement forming in the pit of her stomach at the thought of having a full reunion with her friends once again.

Although there had been plenty of other situations that required the Gaang to team up, everybody seemed to be busy with their own particular occupations. Suki returned to Kyoshi island and had stayed in the Earth Kingdom for the most part to train more warriors, and Katara mostly stayed in the South Pole with her tribe as she taught in a healing school for waterbenders. Sokka and Aang were probably the ones who traveled the most—being involved in the world of politics—but the two boys particularly enjoyed the South Pole, for it was Sokka’s home, and where Aang’s girlfriend mostly stayed. Zuko was the loneliest, all alone in the Fire Nation that he ruled, but he made it clear that he’d never oppose a trip (or what he liked to call an extended detour) with Sokka and Aang, claiming that international affairs would best be taken care of if the Firelord was personally delegating.

Toph had stayed in the Earth Kingdom, too (finding company with Suki), and had her metalbending students to teach. However, the Beifong girl decided that she would oversee the training of the metalbenders in the police force of the rising Republic City, which was why she found herself standing next to the airbender in the capital of the new nation Aang and Zuko were building.

While the rest of the Gaang continuously fought new threats and simultaneously trying to unite the world in a peaceful manner, Kailani had dedicated her efforts to the rebuilding of all four Air Temples. She had led the constructing of the damages, and adjusted all of the Air Acolytes that Aang sent her into their new homes. Along with the Acolytes were the flying bison and the ring-tailed flying lemurs that the Avatar had found, and she tried to make the temples as homely as she could for the native animals.

The goal seemed daunting at first, but Kailani was proud to say that she was successful in her focused task—even though the work kept her away from most of her friends for years. She had encountered Aang, Sokka, and Katara when they had visited her in the Southern Air Temple, and she might have kidnapped Suki and Toph on her way to the Eastern Air Temple for just a few days. But it wasn’t until her work was done at all four Air Temples that Aang had asked her to finish building Air Temple Island in Republic City, so he could visit Katara in the South Pole with Sokka (who had invited Suki along).

And so Kailani stood with Toph at her side, awaiting the arrival of her closest confidantes eagerly, so that she could enjoy and make up for the time that she had lost with them.

“You’re not going to be calling them losers when they get here.” Kailani teased in a sing-song voice, causing Toph to scoff.

“If you think I’m going to get all touchy-feely because we’re seeing our friends again, you thought wrong.” Toph spoke with a shrug. “Sure, I’m happy. But I’m not going to be crying bitch baby tears like you.”

Kailani dramatically gasped, feigning offense. “Watch it or I’m going to have to kick your—.”

Kailani was interrupted, for she found herself catapulted into the air by a stone with the slightest movement of Toph’s foot.

“Your sighted ass could never!” Toph shouted from below causing Kailani to let out a bark of laughter mid-air. As she manipulated the wind to make her fall graceful, the airbender caught sight of a familiar flying bison hovering over a large ship that headed in their direction. Allowing her lips to break out into a wide grin, Kailani grabbed Toph’s wrist, and pulled her to the edge of the shore.

“They’re here!”

Soon enough, the large ship stopped before the two girls, and Appa landed heavily beside it. Kailani didn’t wait a moment more before she jumped on Appa’s forehead, and began to caress his brown arrow.

“Appa!” She squealed excitedly.

“And Katara and Aang.”

Kailani whipped her head around to find the couple jumping off of the flying bison with their fingers interlocked. The girl immediately launched herself at Aang, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and knocking him off balance with the force of her body weight.

“Aang!” Kailani murmured with a grin on her face. Regardless of the fact that he had grown much taller—taller than herself, in fact— she still looked at the Avatar as if he were her little brother, which was why she pulled away from the embrace, and forced his head down so she could rub her knuckles against his bald head. “Noogie!”

“Ow! Stop it Kai, I’m not twelve anymo—“

“You haven’t changed a bit, Kailani.” Katara spoke with a slight chuckle causing Kailani to release her grip on the humiliated Aang, and wrap her arms around the beautiful waterbender.

“Katara, it’s so great to see you!” The grey eyed girl enthused, always having a soft spot for the girl who had grown to be as close as a sister to her since they were younger. Being the only two girls for a while on their adventures allowed them to bond, and Kailani’s first hand witnessing of Katara’s compassion and kindness made her realize that there was no one better to be Aang’s girlfriend.

“I missed you, Kai.” Katara said with her signature motherly smile as she pulled away from the hug. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you since the Southern Air Temple two years ago.”

Kailani let out a sigh as she thought back to the last couple of years. “I’ve been good, albeit very busy. And it didn’t help that this one—“ she pointed her thumb at Aang. “—dumped the rest of his work on me.”

Aang let out a chuckle before gently resting his arm around Katara’s waist. “Sorry Kai. When Sokka told me he was going to the South Pole with Suki, I couldn’t miss the opportunity.”

“So that’ll be my fault.” Katara finished with a bashful grin, but Kailani only waved it off casually.

“Speaking of Sokka and Suki, where are they?” The airbender girl asked.

“KAILANI!”

As soon as the girl turned around, she was engulfed by a figure significantly taller than her. Her face slammed into his chest, and she groaned at the impact, but couldn’t help smiling at her best friend. He seemed to have come from his greeting with Toph, for the girl was walking their way from the location that Sokka ran from. While Katara and Aang gave a begrudging Toph a welcome hug (before Toph bended rock to come between them), Sokka pulled Kailani to face him at arms length with a wide grin plastered across his face.

“I can’t believe you’re finally with the Gaang again! While we’re fighting crime and saving the world, you always stayed at the Air Temples! But now we can have fun with you—“

“Where’s Suki?” Kailani interrupted causing Sokka’s jaw to drop, and snickers erupting from Toph, Katara, and Aang to sound beside them.

“You’re best friend is here, and the first person you ask for is my girlfriend?” Sokka accused in a characteristically dramatic tone.

Kailani slightly smirked. “Our girlfriend.”

“My girlfriend.” Sokka corrected swiftly while pointing his index finger to his own chest. “And you are a terrible best friend for that.”

Sokka and Kailani had been best friends from the moment he slipped and fell on top of her when he was helping her out of the iceberg. Perhaps it was because Sokka hadn’t been in the presence of someone the same age as him for years, or because they both felt the same responsibility when it came to their younger siblings (even if Kailani and Aang weren’t actually related). Either way they clicked immediately, and maybe even more than they had thought.

The two harbored a secret crush for one another for the first several months of their journey, but they soon realized that they were best as friends, and their ability to maintain their friendship after realizing their feelings only made them closer. Sokka later became involved with Suki (who Kailani cherished), and the airbender had... well, her Air Temple project.

“You’ve been a terrible best friend in many, many occasions, Sokka.” Kailani said with her eyebrows raised and her arms crossed.

“Oh yea?” Sokka challenged. “Name one time.”

“When you got us dragged into the spirit world by Hei Bai, when you forced me to drink that cactus juice, made Hawky poop on my head, not telling me about Yanchen’s festival, the New Ozai Society, or Gilak until after it was over, not visiting me for over a year and—“

“Okay, okay, okay I get it!” Sokka grumbled with a frown. “Suki’s still on the ship talking to Zuko about training his guards chi blocking with the Kyoshi Warriors.”

Kailani allowed her eyebrows to furrow. “Zuko’s here, too?”

“Oh so you care more about Zuko than your best friend—“

“Sokka.” Katara said irritated before facing Kailani once again. “Zuko wanted to visit Republic City in person, seeing as he’s been quite generous with the funds, and is its cofounder.”

“And he didn’t mind a little vacation from his Firelord duties.” Aang finished with a cheeky grin.

“I still can’t believe that guy runs a whole country.” Sokka said while crossing his arms and leaning against Toph.

“I can’t believe that Sparky hasn’t died of boredom with all that paperwork.” Toph responded. “All of that makes me glad I’m blind.”

Kailani let out a weak chuckle. “Was there a reason you guys didn’t tell me?”

Everybody—save for Toph—shared an curious look with each other before Katara spoke. “Is there a reason that he shouldn’t have come?”

“W-Well no, I suppose not—“

“Are those nerves I hear in your voice?” Toph questioned with a sly eyebrow raised.

Aang tilted his head in confusion. “Why would Kailani be nervous that Zuko’s coming?”

Katara wore a slight smirk on her face as she bored her eyes into Kailani’s grey orbs. “Do you like Zuko?”

Kailani, Sokka, and Aang’s eyes all widened, the latter two immediately turning to look at the airbender girl.

“It’s the scar isn’t it? That’s what got to you!” Sokka assumed while Aang seemed to be in a state a confusion.

“How long have you felt this way?” Aang asked.

“Oh I know, it’s because he’s hot!” Sokka turned towards Toph and Katara after he spoke and nudged them with his elbow. “Get it? Because he’s a firebender.”

“No, I don’t like him! How could I? I haven’t seen him in years!” Kailani finally announced, ceasing Sokka and Aang’s remarks, and she wasn’t necessarily lying.

Although Zuko had previously been their enemy, she remembered bonding with him after he joined them against his own father. She was quick to accept him after Toph declared that he was genuine with his offer to teach Aang firebending— which made the Prince grateful to her. But it wasn’t until she saw Zuko jump in the path of Azula’s lightning that was aiming for her that she began to feel something more for the boy.

However, after the war, Kailani was made aware that Zuko had reunited with his ex-girlfriend Mai, and thus she pushed aside any feelings she had for him, glad to at least have him as a friend. But soon after the war, she had begun her task of restoring the Air Temples, leading her to not see the new Firelord for almost six years now, and that was why she was nervous.

“And he’s not hot.” Kailani finished with a roll of her eyes. But as soon as she spoke, her eyes caught on two figures that headed there way from the ship, deep in conversation and unaware of the eyes glued to them.

Suki seemed to switch from Kyoshi Warrior to easygoing friend mode in a split second, for her furrowed eyebrows were quickly replaced with a cheery expression as soon as she spotted Kailani. Next to the Earth Kingdom girl stood Zuko in all his Firelord glory, wearing his nation’s formal attire, and his hair tied half up in a bun.

Kailani could’ve ate her words right there.

“You know, your mouth says something but your eyes say something else.” Katara whispered to the girl while Aang and Sokka walked away from them and towards Zuko.

“And your heartbeat says otherwise, too.” Toph teased. “Since I can’t really see your eyes.”

“Kailani!” Suki exclaimed as she catapulted into the airbender’s arms. Kailani let out a hearty laugh as she embraced the warrior, having found missing her bubbly personality, and her ability to make you feel like you could tell her anything.

“Suki, I missed you!” Kailani gushed with a grin. “I needed someone with the same alcohol tolerance as me! I almost died drinking with Toph.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault you’re a lightweight!”

“Kailani,” Katara said suddenly before linking her arms with the airbender. “let’s go see Zuko now.”

She knew that if she protested for any reason, her nerves would be confirmed to the two—now three— girls (even if Suki had no clue what was going on), and so she sucked in her words of denial and let Katara drag her towards the Firelord. She looked at Katara to see a cunning glint shining within her blue orbs, and then towards Toph who wore an extremely conspicuous smirk across her lips.

At least Katara was subtle.

“It’s rude to just pull me away from Suki.” Kailani said as she kept her eyes trained on a determined Katara. “We were in the middle of a conversation, you know.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Suki spoke from the other side of Toph causing Kailani to snap her gaze towards to warrior. Why was she going along with it? She didn’t even know of the nerves wracking her whole body! But as soon as the airbender’s grey orbs met Suki’s, the latter girl winked.

Never mind, she definitely knew.

“I-It’s still not well mannered—“

“Kailani?”

Hearing her name come from the mouth of the guy she was so conflicted with seeing startled her, and Katara could feel—from only touching one of her limbs— that Kailani froze. Her breath caught in her throat at the sound of Zuko’s deep dulcet voice that was familiar, but she was unaccustomed to from not hearing it after half a dozen years.

The first thing she could make out was the vibrant amber of his eyes; eyes that were staring right back at her. The right eye was surrounded by his milky pale skin, and his left eye was still slightly smaller and in the center of his dull red scar that had stayed exactly the same from all those years ago. His lips were slightly parted in surprise, but it quickly became a small smile that danced across his face, gracing his features with a look of soft delight instead of his previously confused expression.

Kailani immediately straightened her back, and hastily pulled her arm away from Katara before bringing her fist and flat palm together, and bowing.

“Firelord Zuko.”

Firelord Zuko, really?— she thought— Everyone just called him Zuko, so now I look like an idiot.

Her train of thought was interrupted when Zuko clutched her hands with his own and lifted her from her bow. Her face burned in embarrassment, but Zuko only shook his head with a bemused expression.

“Please Kailani, we fought my sister and almost died together countless of times. It’s just Zuko to you.” He said with a ghost of a smile that seemed minuscule compared to the shit eating grin that appeared on Kailani’s face.

She placed her hands lazily on her hips and lifted her chin up. “You’re right. I’ve saved your ass too many times to count, and I’m a century older than you. I’m the respectable one of us two.”

Zuko’s smile instantaneously dropped. “You’ve lost your mind if you think I’m going to bow to you.”

Kailani’s arms were suddenly thrown around his shoulders as she let out a string of giggles, reminiscing about the playful banter they exchanged when they were teenagers. Zuko’s serious façade melted away into a smile, and he was quick to snake his arms around her waist, missing the comfort that her embrace brought him after being robbed of it for six years.

“Kailani.” Aang spoke, thus, breaking apart the hug that seemed to last long enough for Katara and Suki to smirk, Sokka to raise an eyebrow, and Toph to snort violently. Aang—however wise and old (though not physically)— remained painfully oblivious, for his eyes were looking over and passed Kailani’s shoulder. “What’s that?”

Kailani turned around to trace Aang’s line of vision, only to meet Aang’s eyes once again—except these were made of metal; metal that matched the rest of the statue of Avatar Aang that was constructed by Toph (courtesy of Kailani’s idea) on a lone island of Yue Bay. It was a pale blue green color, and Aang stood with a staff beside his elevated bent knee.

The airbender girl pulled her arm away from Zuko’s warm—and admittedly intoxicating— touch, and leaned her head on Aang’s shoulder as they stood looking at his statue.

“That’s Aang Memorial Island.” Kailani said with soft grin, and laced her fingers through Aang’s. “Happy eighteenth birthday, little brother.”

Chapter 2 ->

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husheduphistory · 5 years ago

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Dedicated to Death: The End Experiment of Thomas Bradford

When the Fox sisters of Hydesville, New York claimed they contacted the spirit of a murdered peddler in 1848 the ears of the entire country listened. Suddenly there was hope that those who passed away were not truly gone and people from all over began to scramble to find ways to communicate with the dead. Later, with the horrors of the Civil War tearing the country and families apart people looked to Spiritualism and any way possible to find answers from beyond. Hundreds of thousands never came home, countless numbers were never found and the need for closure and communication drove people into the parlors and palms of people claiming they could be their much-needed bridge to the other side. As many people that believed in life after death, there were just as many who refuted it and the divide grew. As time moved on the division deepened with both sides seeking the ultimate proof that death was, or was not, the end. It is an argument that is still actively debated to this day.

Prof. Thomas Lynn Bradford was a man of many ventures. A one-time electrical engineer, athlete, and actor, by 1920 he had begun studying and lecturing about the occult with a particular focus on the afterlife. The world had now suffered through World War I and people’s spirituality was again feeling highly tested. Bradford was a man of sound mind, but his headspace became more and more filled with his thoughts on life after death and how to prove it. He wrote “…all phenomena are outside the domain of the supernatural." He wanted to prove his theories using scientific fact, but he knew he could not do it alone.

Professor Thomas Lynn Bradford.

In the early part of 1921 Bradford placed an ad in a local Detroit newspaper under the name “Professor Flynn” and stated that he was seeking “someone interested in spiritualistic science.” It was a strange ad, which was exactly why it caught the attention of prominent Detroit native Ruth Starkweather Doran. Doran was not a firm believer in Spiritualism. But, she was an avid researcher and was intrigued with the opportunity to learn about a field so unfamiliar to her. On a whim, she responded to the ad and before long she and Bradford began meeting face to face.

The experiment Bradford presented to Doran would have sent most people running, but for reasons unknown, she stuck with the plan. Before their last meeting on February 5th 1921 Bradford finished typing his latest manuscript and laid it neatly next to his typewriter. There was much to do and once Doran arrived the details were ironed out about how he would contact her when his half of the experiment was complete and how they would then reunite. The deal was made. They bid each other farewell and Bradford shut the door of his rented room. He knew he would not be disturbed, he already informed his landlord, a Mr. Marcotte, that if anyone were to call for him to tell them he was out and would not be back until very late. He turned on his heater. blew out the pilot light, turned up the gas, and laid down in bed until the fumes took his life.

The fact that Bradford killed himself in pursuit of answers about life after death may not have come as a shock to some of his friends. It was later reported that the occult interested him more than anything in the physical world. At one point he told Mr. Marcotte, “When I die my body goes to science. It is to be sent to the Michigan Medical Institute. Anyhow, my body does not amount to much.”

When Bradford’s body was discovered by Marcotte the next day the gas was still pouring from his heater. Upon investigation police found his typewriter, with one final note never removed, “And it is through scientific facts that I propose to demonstrate clearly the phenomena of spirits and prove that all the phenomena is outside the domain of super-natural.” Baffled by the suicide, the Detroit Police Department began to look for an explanation, and the dots quickly led to Doran who escaped any legal action by claiming they had met and discussed proving the afterlife but that she did not know he was planning to kill himself that night. Now, with his lifeless body laying in his home the first part of Bradford’s plan was complete. The second part relied on reconnecting with Doran to prove there was life after death. The self-proclaimed skeptic agreed to go through with it. “I am his friend.” Doran said, “If he can cause his spirit to come back to earth I believe his spirit will come to me first.”

Newspaper headline about Bradford’s suicide.

In the days following Bradford’s suicide the eyes of the Spiritualism world were firmly fixed on Doran’s parlor where she was hosting multiple vigils waiting for her friend to reach out and make contact. Throughout the entire process though, Doran made it a point that she was not a psychic, saying that she was simply a human being there to serve as a middleman and prove Bradford’s theories. She and the intrigued masses patiently waited night after night for a connection, but the hours moved on quietly with Doran only stating at one point that she felt a “strange sensation”.

Doran and the spiritualists were not the only one wanting to hear from Bradford. Multiple newspapers waited eagerly for word, running headlines updating the masses with the New York Times reporting, “Dead Spiritualist Silent” two days after the suicide. It was a few days into a planned two week long vigil that there was finally something to report, but it was not from Doran. A woman named Lulu Mack came forward stating that during a visit with a medium she heard a voice calling the name “Thomas Bradford”, a name she claimed was totally unfamiliar to her at the time. She told reporters that Bradford could not communicate very well because his suicide made him weak, suspending him before he could fully pass on to the next realm. “Life has fled from the body of Thomas Lynn Bradford but his spirit is hovering near and calling to us to hear its message,” Mack reported. “I have heard the call of his spirit. It is calling to me even now. But I cannot hear the message it would send, because the spirit is too weak.”

Headline from The New York Times, February 18, 1921.

Headline from The Pittsburgh Press, February 10, 1921.

Suddenly, a week after Bradford took his own life, Doran claimed she had a feeling she was going to hear from him, but it would be difficult considering how weak he was. Papers, thirsty for the next part of their bizarre story, urged spiritualists to concentrate on Bradford and “assist” him in reaching out. To make sure it was a focused effort it was agreed that 9pm was the time to take action and focus to help Bradford and Doran reconnect.

Much to the delight of some and criticism of others, at 9pm that night Doran sat in her darkened parlor with three witnesses. Suddenly, she put her hands to her temples, commanded the lights be turned off, and told someone to start writing. According to her, Bradford had finally arrived. “I hear his voice” she said to the room, “It is faint, but it grows more distinct. It is the professor.”

As Doran spoke in broken fragments the alleged message from Bradford was slowly pieced together:

“I am the professor who speaks to you from the Beyond. I have broken through the veil. The help of the living has greatly assisted me. I simply went to sleep. I woke up and at first did not realize that I had passed on. I find no great change apparent. I expected things to be much different. They are not. Human forms are retained in outline but not in the physical. I have not traveled far. I am still much in the darkness. I see many people. They appear natural. There is a lightness of responsibility here unlike in life. One feels full of rapture and happiness. Persons of like natures associate. I am associated with other investigators. I do not repent my act. My present plane is but the first series. I am still investigating the future planes regarding which we in this plane are as ignorant as are earthly beings of the life just beyond human life.”

At 10pm the lights were brought back on and a flustered Doran looked over the bits and pieces that she claimed were given to her directly from the spirit of Bradford. Then, she suddenly fainted. Once resuscitated one of the witnesses asked her if she was positive about her message, was she absolutely sure she was speaking with Bradford from beyond the grave? She was adamant, “I am convinced. I never heard a spirit voice before. That was the professor, without doubt."

Illustration from The Ogden Standard-Examiner, February 21, 1921.

For all of the speculation and attention leading up to Doran waiting to hear from Bradford, the aftermath was remarkably tame. Despite the accounts from both Doran and Mack, members of both the Spiritualism community and the general public were not convinced that the alleged message from Bradford was proof of anything. The headlines faded into obscurity and Doran went along with them. Later in the year Doran wrote an article claiming that she maintained regular communication with her departed friend ever since. She was now a believer, still receiving messages from Bradford detailing how one day both realms would meet.

“Through spiritualism the world will be reclaimed: sin will be vanquished, suffering will end” she claimed he told her. “The physical in man will cease to be, and physical death, and that is the only death, will be no more. Men will live on earth forever, even as they live forever in the spirit world.”

At the time of his death Bradford was near penniless. His estranged wife living in Wisconsin only learned of his death later and his body was claimed by a brother, James Bradford, who handed it over to an undertaker for interment.

The body of Professor Thomas Lynn Bradford, the man who gave up his life to prove life after death, is buried in the Mt. Olivet Cemetery in Detroit, Michigan.

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alittlepieceofwarcraft · 6 years ago

Text

Loa: A Complete Lore Guide

SOURCE

Summary list followed by an individual deep dive.

*Loas are roughly categorised for simplicity and may not 100% fit their section (eg Hakkar the Soulflayer appears serpent-like but may not be one, Jani can be argued to be both dinosaur and reptile).

What is a loa?

A loa is the name trolls give to the beings they worship, such as the Wild Gods. While beings such as the Celestials and Ancient Guardians are Wild Gods, trolls specifically worship what they consider to be loa.

Loa can live on to be reborn if their physical form is destroyed but not their spirit.

Summary list of loa

Aquatic loa

Gral the shark loa (Zandalari).

Krag’wa the frog loa (Darkspear, Zandalari).

Torga the turtle loa (Zandalari, Tortollans).

Bird loa

Akil’zon the eagle loa (Amani, Zandalari).

Jan’alai the dragonhawk loa (Amani, Zandalari).

Bear loa

Nalorakk the bear loa (Amani, Zandalari).

Rhunok the arctic bear loa (Drakkari).

Cat loa

Bethekk the panther loa (Gurubashi, Zandalari).

Eraka no Kimbul (or “Kimbul”, Farraki, Zandalari, Tortollans).

Halazzi the lynx loa (Amani, Zandalari).

Har'koa the snow leopard loa (Drakkari, Zandalari).

Shirvallah the loa of tigers (Darkspear, Gurubashi, Zandalari).

Dinosaur loa

Gonk the raptor loa (Darkspear, Zandalari).

Pa’ku the pterrordax loa (Zandalari).

Rezan the devilsaur loa (Zandalari).

Torcali the direhorn loa (Zandalari).

Insect loa

Elortha no Shadra (or “Shadra”), the spider loa (Vilebranch, Witherbark, Gurubashi, Farraki, Zandalari).

Kith'ix the C'Thraxxi loa (Zan'do's followers).

Reptile loa

Akunda the thunder lizard loa (Zandalari).

Hakkar the Soulflayer (Gurubashi, Vilebranch).

Hethiss the snake loa (Gurubashi, Zandalari).

Jani the saurid loa (Zandalari).

Quetz'lun the wind serpent loa (Drakkari).

Sethraliss the snake loa (Zandalari, Sethrak).

Sseratus the loa of serpents and snakes (Drakkari).

Tharon'ja the wind serpent loa (Drakkari).

Troll loa

Dambala (Darkspear, Zandalari).

Grimath (Zandalari).

Lukou (Darkspear, Zandalari).

Samedi loa of the grave (Darkspear).

Zanza (Zandalari).

Other loa

Akali the rhino loa (Drakkari).

Bwonsamdi the loa of death (Darkspear, Zandalari).

G’huun an Old God of blood (Blood trolls).

Hir’eek the bat loa (Blood trolls, Darkspear, Gurubashi, Zandalari).

Mam’toth the mammoth loa (Drakkari).

Ueetay no Mueh'zala (or “Mueh'zala”), the loa of death (Farraki).

Tip jar

Ko-fi

Paypal

Deep Dive into the loa

Gral

Gral is a shark loa of the sea that is worshipped by the Zandalari tribe. It is said that he knows even the deepest and darkest parts of the ocean and watches over every voyage. He is known to be wise and powerful.

Five years before the war in Zandalar, the naga tore down Gral's temple Atal'Gral and killed every last one of his followers. Gral was weak from the attack and remained missing for many years. When the naga returned, he did too, hoping to defeat the force’s leader Summoner Siavass and he has sworn revenge upon Queen Azshara should she come up from where he knew she currently could not leave.

Krag’wa

Krag’wa is a frog loa honoured by both the Darkspear tribe and the Zandalari. He is known to be powerful, but also impulsive and demanding.

His followers used to bring him offerings from all around the Frogmarsh in Nazmir. The trolls began listening to the whispering darkness and in response Krag'wa stored some of his power in the totems that surround his lair. He refused to bend to the will of G’huun and so the blood trolls began attacking. Every one of his worshippers were slain and he was made weak, having to restore himself. Once strong again, he enacted revenge upon them.

He later participated in the final charge against the blood trolls in Year 33, led by Princess Talanji. He opened the way to their leader Grand Ma'da Ateena and also participated in the defence of Zuldazar when Zul sought to destroy the Great Seal. He held off blood trolls coming from the Blood Gate.

Crawgs are former tadpoles of Krag’wa that have been corrupted by the blood trolls' blood magic.

Torga

Torga is known as a wise and benevolent loa with the tortollan people making pilgrimages to him to hear his stories. He is worshipped by both the Zandalari and the Tortollans.

Torga was killed by the blood trolls in Nazmir. They consumed his flesh and used his blood to raise undead and to summon Jungo, Herald of the Blood God. The location of his body is known as Torga's Rest. Bwonsamdi later summoned the Spirit of Torga to the turtle loa. He later was reincarnated as a young turtle and now sits at the head of the tortollan Lashk.

Akil’zon

Akil’zon is the loa of eagles, worshipped by the Amani and Zandalari.

In Year 26, Hex Lord Malacrass stole his essence, placing it into one of the Amani's most talented shamans. He also appears in Zul'Aman where his spirit is chained by Zul'jin. His is freed when the chieftain troll is killed. In Year 27, Akil'zon appears again in Zul'Aman where his spirit is chained by Daakara. He is freed when Daakara is killed.

Jan’alai

Jan’alai is the dragonhawk loa, honoured by both the Amani and Zandalari.

Alike Akil’zon, Malacrass stole his essence, imbuing it into one of the Amani's deadliest rogues. His spirit is chained by Zul'jin and similarly is freed when the chieftain troll is killed. He again is also chained in Zul’Aman and freed when Draakara is killed.

Nalorakk

Nalorakk is the bear loa worshipped by the Amani and Zandalari.

He, alongside Akil’zon and Jan’alai, also has his essence stolen and chained to Zul’jin as well as in Zul’Aman and is freed alike the former two loas.

The Amani decorate their Amani Battle Bears with magic amulets and ceremonial masks to honour him.

Rhunok

Rhunok is known as the Bear of the North, loa of arctic bears and is worshipped by the Drakkari.

In Year 27, his prophet first tried to absorb the loa's power but absorbed too much and subsequently killed himself. Priests of Rhunok quickly resurrected the prophet and he returned to making attemps to steal the loa’s power. To stop his prophet and end his suffering, Rhunok asked an adventurer to revive him and then slay him. It is said he will one day return as his spirit lives forever.

Bethekk

Bethekk is a panther loa recognised by the Gurubashi and the Zandalari,

She was held in Zul'Gurub against her will when the Hakkari were attempting to resurrect Hakkar in Year 25.

She is represented on Azeroth through a champion of her choosing. High Priestess Kilnara holds this position. Kilnara is the sister of the previous champion, High Priestess Arlokk, who was killed a few years ago, meaning Bethekk was forced to choose another and chose her sister.

Kimbul

Also known as “Eraka no Kimbul”, is a tiger loa worshipped by the Farraki and Zandalari.

Centuries ago, Kimbul's temple in Vol'dun was attacked by a naga army led by Summoner Mepjila. Unfortunately, Kimbul arrived too late to save his followers from death. He hunted the remaining naga down to the last and none escaped, however as he killed the naga leader she cast a spell that cursed the souls of Kimbul's followers into unending torment. Until their souls were freed, Kimbul could not accept new followers. He took a powerful artifact known as the Ring of Tides as his trophy from the battle with Mepjila.

In Year 30, Kimbul was summoned by the Sandfury tribe at Zul'Farrak so they could sacrifice their prisoners - Aramar Thorne, Makasa Flintwill, Taryndrella, Hackle, and Murky - to him. Kimbul showed respect to Makasa and Hackle for they were predators and not prey, and he was the Prey's Doom. Kimbul told them that they had nothing to fear from him and vanished.

In Year 33, Kimbul can be found at the Temple of Kimbul in Vol'dun. The naga attacked Kimbul's territory looking for the Ring of Tides. Seeking his help against the naga threat, the tortollan Tortaka tribe spoke to Kimbul at his temple. Kimbul tasked an adventurer with entering the Shadowlands where his cursed followers continued to fight for eternity and slaying Mepjila's spirit to break her spell. With his followers at peace, Kimbul moved to protect the Tortaka tribe from the naga with the adventurer as his avatar. Afterward he accepted the Tortaka as his followers. Kimbul also participated in the defence of Zuldazar when Zul and his forces sought to destroy the Great Seal.

Halazzi

Halazzi is a lynx loa honoured by the Amani and Zandalari.

He suffered the same incidences in Zul’Drak.

Har'koa

Har’koa is a snow leopard loa honoured by the Drakkari and the Zandalari. Her mate is Loque'nahak.

After the Drakkari turned on their gods in Year 27, Har'koa was the last of the gods to be subdued and the trolls used her power in order to curse her children. Witch Doctor Khufu is able to contact other gods, adventurers are sent to aid Har'koa. After freeing her children Har'koa sends adventurers to help other loa: Rhunok, Quetz'lun, and Akali. She is saddened that she couldn't aid other loa such as Mam'toth.

While able to aid the other loa, Akali is ultimately slain by his prophet, which causes Har'koa and Witch Doctor Khufu to work together. Har'koa helps adventurers in fighting against the prophet to ensure his death.She sends adventurers to meet with Tol'mar, who directs them to destroy the Gundrak leadership.

Shirvallah

Shirvallah is a tiger loa worshipped by the Darkspear, Gurubashi and Zandalari.

Their last champion was High Priest Thekal. Thekal had another high priest, who wielded The Warmace of Shirvallah. Long ago, it was lost to the sea with the high priest who wielded it.

Shirvallah was also held in Zul'Gurub against their will alongside the previously mentioned loa.

By the time of the war against the Iron Horde in Year 31, troll druids had created a way for all druids to take on a half-tiger form like those of Shirvallah's champions, called the Claws of Shirvallah.

Gonk

Gonk is the loa of raptors honoured by the Darkspear and Zandalari. Gonk's high priest is Wardruid Loti. He is the loa of shapes and master of the hunt. The followers of Pa'ku and Gonk do not get along.

Gonk taught the Darkspear tribe how to contact the loa in a different way, allowing them to serve all the nature spirits at the same time instead of only one at a time. The other loa, such as Shirvallah, were against this but Gonk forced their hands in order to defeat Zalazane, who had trapped several loa inside the Emerald Dream. Through this, the Darkspear became druids, although the other loa are not happy about it and want the trolls to continue worshipping them one at a time.

Gonk did not just speak to the Zandalari. For his Raptari, his followers, Gonk is not just a fragment or piece of him, but physically there, a real voice they can listen to in person.

In Year 33, he aided Loti and Hexlord Raal against the Crimson Cultist within of Zanchul, the Speaker of the Horde became imbued with the powers of Gonk and Pa'ku. The Speaker was informed that they had to choose between the loa. Those who chose Gonk went out to find him Garden of the Loa, where in exchange for them raising a shrine for him he accepted them into his pack.

When the Atal'zul began their uprising against Rastakhan, Loti hurried to save Gonk to find Gonk had already slain the attackers who sought to kill him and drain his power. Gonk was among the army that King Rastakhan gathered to kill Zul. He was tasked to lead his followers to the Temple of the Prophet. Following the death of Rezan, Gonk ordered for a full retreat from Atal'Dazar. Noting that only Rezan's power could keep Bwonsamdi from claiming King Rastakhan, who was sorely wounded and ageing fast due to Rezan's death, Gonk revealed that he would offer Rastakhan his own power if not for the fact that it was not Gonk's domain to challenge the loa of death.

Gonk participated in the defense of Zuldazar when Zul and his forces sought to destroy the Great Seal.

During the assault on Zuldazar Gonk discovered that the void elves sought to corrupt his children with their dark magics.

Pa’ku

Pa’ku is a pterrordax loa worshipped by the Zandalari. Pa'ku is the master of the Zandalari's navy and her high priest is Raal. The followers of Pa'ku and Gonk do not get along.

In Year 33, Loti and Raal against the Crimson Cultist within Zanchul, the Speaker of the Horde became imbued with the powers of Gonk and Pa'ku. Following the death of Dregada, the Speaker was informed that they had to choose between the two loa. Those who chose Pa'ku were delivered to the loa by Raal by flying on the back of Ata the Winglord. After the Speaker earned Pa'ku's admiration, the loa instructed them to raise a statue to him so that all the trolls of the land knew they had bargained.[5]

When Zul betrayed Rastakhan and stabbed him, Pa'ku took the king away to Zeb'ahari.

Pa'ku participated in the defence of Zuldazar when Zul and his forces sought to destroy the Great Seal.

Rezan

Rezan is was a devilsaur known as the “Loa of Kings” worshipped by the Zandalari.

Rezan is first encountered in Year 33 when his follower, King Rastakhan, was near death after being betrayed by Zul. Rastakhan was unable to be revived because his soul was in the grip of Bwonsamdi, loa of death. The Zandalari appealed to Rezan to confront Bwonsamdi and claim back Rastakhan's soul. He was successful.

At Rezan's temple, Zul's followers sought to drain Rezan of his power in the same way the Drakkari once did to their loa. Rastakhan and an adventurer killed Vilnak'dor, the troll performing the ritual, and once he was freed Rezan unleashed his fury upon the Atal'zul and their Kao-Tien allies.

Rezan was among the army that Rastakhan gathered and led the charge into Atal'Dazar atop Mount Mugamba. During the confrontation with Zul, Rezan was slain. Without his power keeping Bwonsamdi at bay, Rastakhan began aging fast. Rezan's essence was used by Zul to revive Dazar, first king of the Zandalari.

Torcali

Torcali is a direhorn loa revered by the Zandalari trolls. She is a loa of the harvest.

Shadra

Also known as “Elortha no Shadra”, Shadra is the spider loa honoured by the Witherbark, Gurubashi, Farrak and Zandalari.

The Witherbark one time collected her most potent venom from her. The Forsaken, wanting her venom, wished to summon her and to do so summon her, it was required to know her true name (Elortha no Shadra). After Shadra was summoned and killed, her venom was sent to the Undercity.

Shadra was also held in Zul'Gurub against her will during the time when the Hakkari were attempting to resurrect Hakkar the Soulflayer in Year 25.

At Jintha'alor after the Cataclysm in Year 28, the Vilebranch tribe drank Shadra's blood and performed mass sacrifices for her. The Wildhammer wanted to kill her in advance before she could be directed to them, while the Forsaken once more wanted Shadra's venom for their apothecaries. At Shadra'Alor, she was once more summoned and killed.

In Year 30, Shadra communicated with Vol'jin through visions.

Shadra, alike Kimbul, was summoned by the Sandfury tribe at Zul'Farrak so they could sacrifice their prisoners - Aramar Thorne, Makasa Flintwill, Taryndrella, Hackle, and Murky- to her. But Taryndrella, dryad daughter of Cenarius, stopped her from doing so. Shadra backed away,

In Year 33, her own high priestess Yazma trapped Shadra in the Shrine of Shadra in Zuldazar. Yazma thus consumed Shadra's might in the name of Zul, killing Shadra in the process, and transforming herself into a spider-like troll. Yazma told Shadra to "die forever", suggesting that she is deceased for good.

Kith'ix

Kith’ix was a C'Thraxxi generals and worshipped as a loa by Zan’do’s followers.

Trying to find the Discs of Norgannon keeper Loken unearthed the tombs of Kith'ix and his fellow C'Thraxxi general Zakajz and sent them to slay Tyr and reclaim the discs. Kith'ix and Zakazj overtook Tyr and his allies in the lands that would become the Tirisfal Glades. Tyr chose to hold off the C'Thraxxi alone so his companions could escape. In the end, Tyr sacrificed all of his remaining power and life force in a blinding explosion of arcane energy that killed Zakajz and nearly killed Kith'ix. Kith'ix survived and blindly fled southwest. The ancient loa inhabiting the area buried Kith'ix beneath the earth so that no other creature would disturb it.

Eventually the sentient dagger Xal'atath led the troll Zan'do and his followers to the forbidden mound, where they discovered that it was not rock but the hide of some monstrous creature. Believing it to be an undiscovered loa they performed rituals—offering blood sacrifices and plunging Xal'atath into its hide—to awaken him. Kith'ix brutally slaughtered the trolls.

Kith'ix reached out with his mind and found the aqir, having hidden deep underground since the fall of the Black Empire. The C'Thrax rallied the insectoid swarms to reclaim the surface of Azeroth once more. As both Kith'ix and the aqir expanded their power, they constructed a vast subterranean empire known as Azj'Aqir. The Zandalari rallied the tribes against this new foe and summoned the loa to fight by their side, tearing through the aqiri ranks and even wounding Kith'ix. The aqir were forced to retreat and Kith'ix, gravely wounded by the loa, fled to the northeast with a contingent of its closest aqiri followers.

The Amani tracked the C'Thrax's trail far to the northeastern woodlands. In a final savage battle, the entire tribe flung itself in a suicidal attack against Kith'ix and its remaining insectoid minions. Only a tiny fraction of the troll army survived. Even so, the C'Thrax succumbed to its tireless hunters.

On the site where they had killed Kith'ix, the trolls established a new settlement. It would one day grow into a sprawling temple city known as Zul'Aman.

Akunda

Akunda is thunder lizard loa worshipped by the Zandalari. He represents storms and new beginnings.

Akunda was poisoned by his follower Akunda the Exalted, who took his memories from him. Using Akunda's power, Akunda the Exalted wiped the trolls at the temple of all of their memories. After Meijani and an adventurer from the Horde discovered this, they used Akunda's powers of the storm to slay Akunda the Exalted. Akunda restored the memories of his followers. Akunda offered his gift to the adventurer, allowing them to call upon the Boon of Akunda whenever they commune at an Altar of Akunda.

Akunda later participated in the defence of Zuldazar when Zul and his forces sought to destroy the Great Seal.

Hakkar

Hakkar, also known by his title “The Soulflayer”, is a blood loa honoured by the Gurucashi and Vilebranch. He is known to be destructive and malevolent.

A troll attempted to summon Hakkar on Zandalar many millennia ago. While he was stopped, it led to the breakout of a plague of corrupted blood which tore through the Zandalari Empire killing thousands of trolls.

Around Year -1,500, the Gurubashi trolls sought aid from ancient, mystical forces to aid them in their terro and famine. Hakkar heard the trolls' call and decided to aid them. Hakkar gave his secrets of blood to the Gurubashi and helped them extend their civilization across most of Stranglethorn Vale. Though he brought them great power, Hakkar wanted more and more for his efforts.[4] He filled his adherents with murderous rage and reveled in their dark emotions and fed off the blood they spilled. The Gurubashi realized what kind of creature they had allied with and turned against him. The strongest tribes rose up against Hakkar and his loyal priests known as the Atal'ai.

As Zul'Gurub continued to expand, the Zandalari's pleased surprise turned to disquiet. When they discovered the nature of Hakkar, they were horrified. The jungle trolls banded together with the Zandalari and rose up in open revolt. The budding empire was shattered by the magic unleashed between the angry god and his rebel children. The trolls succeeded in destroying Hakkar's avatar and banishing him from the world. Even his Atal'ai priests were eventually driven from the capital of Zul'Gurub. After his defeat, the various troll tribes of the jungle began battling each other and the Darkspear tribe left the continent.

The exiled priests fled far to the north, into the Swamp of Sorrows. There they erected the temple to Hakkar. The great dragon Aspect, Ysera, learned of the Atal'ai's plans and smashed the temple beneath the marshes.

Around Year -18-19, some of the Gurubashi would continue to use Hakkar's blood magic, especially in their war against the humans of Stormwind. Green dragons that had been left by Ysera to guard the Temple of Atal'Hakkar had succumbed to another force, the Emerald Nightmare. The descendants of the Atal'ai returne to find that its guardians were disoriented and vulnerable. Both the Nightmare and the trolls dragged the dragons down into the depths of madness and corruption. The Atal'ai began their gruesome rituals to summon Hakkar into the world. Jammal'an believed the summoning of Hakkar will bring the Atal'ai immortality. A green dragon named Itharius called for help from the Cenarion Circle, who in turn sent an Alliance force to cleanse the temple and put an end to the Atal'ai's efforts.

In Year 25, Yeh'kinya tricked adventurers into taking an Ancient Egg from Jintha'Alor and infusing it with the essence of the defeated Avatar of Hakkar into a Filled Egg of Hakkar. Prospector Ironboot revealed that Yeh'kinya wasn't about to keep the world safe, but to bring the god Hakkar back. However, it was too late as Hakkar had already reborn in Zul'Gurub. The Atal'ai priests discovered that Hakkar's physical form could only be summoned within the ancient capital of the Gurubashi Empire, Zul'Gurub. In order to quell the blood god, the trolls of the land banded together and sent a contingent of High Priests into the ancient city. Each priest was a powerful champion of the Primal Gods but despite their best efforts, they fell under the sway of Hakkar. The Zandalari knew that they did not have the resources to scour the Atal'ai and their leader, Jin'do the Hexxer, from Zul'Gurub. They sent word through the Darkspear tribe. A large Horde strike force was sent to Zul'Gurub in turn. The Horde charged into the temple city, and though they the killed the priests and Jin'do, they were too late to stop Hakkar's summoning. Manifesting as a force of death and insanity, Hakkar poisoned the blood of the Horde's champions but he was unaware of the poison entering his veins as he fed on them and was consumed by his own magic.

The still burning kernel of Hakkar's power, was brought to Molthor and the heart was banished.

In Year 28, the Atal'ai in the Sanctum of the Fallen God have recovered a significant portion of his skeleton and seek to restore Hakkar back to life. The Atal'ai transported most of the blood they produced to Zul'Gurub. Meanwhile, Vilebranch tribe of the Hinterlands left Hakkar in favour of Shadra. Jin'do recovered the body of two high priests, High Priest Venoxis and High Priestess Jeklik, and then enlisted the aid of Zanzil the Outcast to resurrect them to serve Hakkar. Though adventurers working for the Zandalari trolls Maywiki and Chabal only succeeded in destroying Jeklik's body. Some time later, the Zandalari trolls under Zul united most of the tribes and aided in restoring Zul'Gurub to its former glory for the purpose of rebuilding the old troll empire. They hoped to use Hakkar in order to wage war on the other races of Azeroth. Adventurers in Zul'Gurub saw Jin'do, now going by name "the Godbreaker," holding Hakkar in submission and stripping out his power to infuse into himself. Upon destroying the spiritual chains holding the Soulflayer in place, Hakkar turns on Jin'do, and utterly destroys him, leaving only the corpse of Jin'do the Broken. He then vanishes, promising to return.

Hethiss

Hethiss is snake loa worshipped by the Gurubashi and Zandalari.

Like the other Gurubashi loa, Hethiss was held in Zul'Gurub against his will during the time when the Hakkari were attempting to resurrect Hakkar the Soulflayer in Year 25.

Jani

Jani is the saurid loa worshipped by the Zandalari. He is known as Patron of Scavengers, the Lord of Thieves, the God of Garbage, Master of Minions, the Keeper of Secrets and the loa of discarded things. Jani looks out for people such as the orphans and the poor and appears to be very protective of his children, as well as being quite the trickster, polymorphing those that hurt his children to humble them.

In Year 33, while killing some thieving saurid harassing a merchant, Jani appears as "The Big One" and attacks an adventurer. When they go to investigate a pile they are captured in the Big One's jaws, who reveals himself to be Jani. Jani is furious that the adventurer would kill his children and to teach them a lesson, he changes them into a saurid and forces them to go bite the one who originally sent them, Nokano.

Quetz’lun

Quetz'lun is the loa of wind serpents worshipped by the Drakkari.

In Year 27, she was betrayed by her prophet and slain to drain her power. Right before her physical manifestation was destroyed, Quetz'lun created her own private underworld nightmare in which she dragged all her former worshippers and high priests into.

Her spirit will assist players in killing her prophet. After a ritual, she is drawn into the material world where she will be able to reclaim her power from the prophet. Once done, she brings him into her underworld domain to kill him over and over again.

Sethraliss

Sethraliss was a snake loa worshipped by both Zandalari and Sethrak. She had power over lightening.

During the Aqir and Troll War in Year -16,000 years ago, Mythrax the Unraveler slaughtered troll and sethrak.. Sethraliss sacrificed herself to save them, but though she struck Mythrax down Mythrax was still able to destroy the disc at the heart of Atul'Aman. Sethraliss' devoted followers transported her remains and built a temple around them while they awaited her rebirth. Sulthis, Vorrik, and Korthek worked together to seal Mythrax within the great pyramid.[4]

Years later, Korthek grew power hungry and sought to free Mythrax to conquer Zuldazar. He gathered like-minded sethrak and declared himself emperor. Other sethrak who were still loyal to Sethraliss were forced into hiding. Vorrik returned to his personal sanctum years later, he could still feel the ancient power of Sethraliss there, which he took as a sign that his loa endured.

In Year 33, General Jakra'zet of the Zanchuli Council allied with Korthek, and though Korthek was slain Jakra'zet successfully stole the keys to Atul'Aman and completed the ritual to revive Mythrax by sacrificing himself. The sethrak needed Sethraliss but she was yet to be reborn. The adventurer sent by Vorrik to investigate found a group of Zandalari who wanted to corrupt her into a dark loa that would lay waste to Vol'dun. The trolls were defeated and Sethraliss was rejuvenated.

Sseratus

Sseratus is the the loa of serpents and snakes revered by the Drakkari.

Slad'ran was the high prophet of Sseratus. He sacrificed her hoping that it might help them save their home. He swore the Scourge would suffer for the sacrifices the Drakkari had been forced to commit.

Tharon’ja

Tharon'ja is the wind serpent loa honoured by the Drakkari. He is trusted guardian of Drak'Tharon Keep and the patron of those who defended the borders of Zul'Drak.

In Year 27, his own followers turned on him because to the threat of the Scourge and lies of the Lich King. His own Prophet killed him in Drak'Tharon Keep and claimed his power, driving the loa into the spirit world.[2]

Zur'chaka the Bonecrafter summoned Tharon'ja's spirit in order to communicate with him at the Za'Tual boneyard in Year 30.

Dambala

Dambala is a troll loa honoured by the Zandalari.

He is only mentioned in Shadow Hunter Ty'jin's ability Blessing of Dambala.

Grimath

Grimath is an old Zandalari loa spirit honoured by them.

He is known to have been contacted by Zandalari trolls to aid them in tracking a direhorn.

Lukou

Lukou is a troll loa honoured by the Darkspear and Zandalari.

She is mentioned in Shadow Hunter Ty'jin's ability called Blessing of Lukou.

In the RPG, she’s noted as the loa of healing and respite, and grants the ability to heal allies. Her power has no effect against undead in the area - she grants the capacity to heal, but she has no power over the restless dead.

Samedi

Samedi is the loa of the grave, honoured by the Darkspear.

Shadow Hunter Kajassa asked adventurers in Nagrand to use the Samedi Fetish to help shadow hunter souls move on and send them to Samedi.

In the RPG, it is mentioned that he is the loa of cemeteries and the restful sleep of the dead. In Samedi's eyes, the undead are abominations that should be destroyed.

Zanza

Also known as Zanza the Restless, Zanza is a loa of the Zandalar tribe found near the entrance to the Cache of Madness in Zul'Gurub. He is also honoured by them.

He reveals that he created the magic used in Elven Librams which were originally his Savage Guard. They since stole Zanza's magic teachings and used them against the trolls.

Akali

Akali was the rhino loa of rhinos worshipped by the Drakkari.

In Year 27, he was held in chains by his worshippers outside the gates of Gundrak. Adventurers freed Akali who is quick to kill his subduers. However, the Prophet of Akali notices and drinks of the loa's blood, claiming some of his power. Infused by power of the loa, the prophet swiftly kills Akali.

Bwonsamdi

Bwonsamdi is the loa of death worshipped by the Darkspear and the Zandalari. Bwonsamdi's temple is the Necropolis. The spirits of all trolls on Zandalar go to him upon death and he brings the spirits of any who worship him into his realm, the Other Side. He grows more powerful the more souls are in his care.

Before they were driven away from the Echo Isles by Zalazane and his hexed trolls, the Darkspear tribe once worshipped the spirit. During the liberation of the Echo Isles in Year 27, Vol'jin tried to recruit Bwonsamdi to his side for the battle against Zalazane. After Vol'jin and his fellow Horde warriors proved themselves worthy, Bwonsamdi agreed to help them against Zalazane. With the battle won Bwonsamdi took his leave.

In Year 30, Vol'jin found that his shadow hunter powers were being withheld by the loa. Bwonsamdi contacted Vol'jin and told him that his injuries, self doubt, and conflicting loyalty toward the Horde has made the loa forsake him. Bwonsamdi showed him various visions. The Death Loa wished Vol'jin would use his influence to create as much strife and war as possible, for that would mean more souls would be sent to the other side on his behalf. Vol'jin refused. Vol'jin eventually proved his conviction and reaffirmed his identity, regaining both Bwonsamdi's respect and his powers. Bwonsamdi received the souls Vol'jin sent from the battles between the Shado-Pan and the Thunder King's forces.. At the end of the war, Vol'jin's companion Tyrathan Khort was near death. Vol'jin pleaded with Bwonsamdi to spare Tyrathan. The loa complied, knowing he would have his soul now or later, it did not matter.

In Year 33, King Rastakhan was betrayed by Zul and near death, Bwonsamdi claimed his soul and at first refused to give it back because the loa of kings Rezan had been keeping Rastakhan from him for too long. Rezan threatened Bwonsamdi into complying. When Rezan was slain by Zul, Rastakhan began to age quickly.

In Nazmir, the Zandalari forces sought the aid of the local loa to battle the blood trolls. Bwonsamdi's worshipper Hanzabu brought a Horde adventurer to the Necropolis to meet with him. After tasking the adventurer with cleansing his temple of the spirits who had abandoned Bwonsamdi for G'huun, Bwonsamdi agreed to pledge his powers to the fight against the blood trolls in exchange for one million souls. The ritual to finalize their contract was interrupted by Grand Ma'da Ateena, leader of the blood trolls, but she was successfully fought off.

Talanji and the tortollans called on Bwonsamdi to communicate with Torga's spirit. Bwonsamdi would only comply with a deal, the soul of another loa in exchange for communing with Torga, but Talanji refused. Instead, the souls of the blood trolls that had eaten Torga's flesh were used in exchange for communing with Torga.

Bwonsamdi participated in the final charge against the blood trolls led by Talanji. He prevented the adventurer from dying because they still had a debt to pay him.

Rastakhan made a deal with Bwonsamdi: If Bwonsamdi gave him the power to take back his empire, then Rastakhan would elevate Bwonsamdi above all other loa. Bwonsamdi accepted the deal on one condition: that the king's bloodline would be devoted to Bwonsamdi. Later, as Dazar'alor came under attack from Zul and Mythrax, Bwonsamdi empowered Rastakhan to kill Zul.

After the Urn of Vol'jin is delivered to Atal'Dazar. Bwonsamdi appears saying to bring the urn to his necropolis instead, as he hasn't seen Vol'jin in quite some time. There Bwonsamdi discovers that Vol'jin spirit isn't in the urn.

Seeking to learn where Vol'jin's spirit had gone missing, Bwonsamdi tasked the adventurer and Talanji with performing a seance with the aid of some of Vol'jin's friends from life, Gadrin and Rokhan. They succeeded in contacting him deep within the Shadowlands, and he tasked them with slaying G'huun as justice for the sons and daughters of the loa and the heart of Zandalar.

Following the deaths of the Horde's Champion of the Light and Jadefire Masters during the Battle of Dazar'alor, King Rastakhan urged Bwonsamdi to aid his forces. Bwonsamdi created a blood moon and raised the dead to fend off the Alliance. Bwonsamdi also raised Grong into a Revenant and turned him against the Alliance after Horde adventurers slew the giant gorilla. When the Alliance reached King Rastakhan. Rastakhan was still ultimately killed. As Talanji held her dying father, Rastakhan's pact with Bwonsamdi was transferred to her as he took his final breath. Bwonsamdi himself then appeared before Talanji, who demanded to know what he had done to her, unaware of the pact her father made that bound his bloodline to the loa of graves. In response, Bwonsamdi merely revealed that her father never told her about their bargain.

Vol'jin's spirit, Talanji, and Baine Bloodhoof returned to the Necropolis to reveal that Vol'jin had been calling for him. They confronted Bwonsamdi to ask him if he was the one who had told him to make Sylvanas the Warchief, which Bwonsamdi denied. Bwonsamdi agreed to help them find out who had really told Vol'jin to put Sylvanas in charge.

Bwonsamdi opened a Death Gate to one of his rivals in the ownership of souls: the Lich King. Like Bwonsamdi, the Lich King told Vol'jin that he was not responsible and that Sylvanas was upsetting the balance of life and death.Realizing that Vol'jin's spirit was getting help from some other power, Bwonsamdi also sent them to speak to the Val'kyr Eyir Eyir did not allow Talanji to enter her hall as she was a priestess of the death loa. Eyir informed the group that Vol'jin had been "touched by the hand of valor". Back at the Necropolis, Bwonsamdi mused that while Eyir and the Lich King were not his only rivals they were the ones he thought most likely to be behind it. He urged Vol'jin to search not the living world but the Shadowlands for his answers.

G’huun

G’huun was an Old God inadvertently created by the Pantheon during their experiments on the other imprisoned Old Gods, as the titans tried to find a solution to the problem that they posed. He was worshipped as a loa by the blood trolls and they consider themselves to be his children.

In Year 33, his prison began to weaken and G'huun's corruption begun spreading across the land. He also started wresting control over the souls of the dead from Bwonsamdi. G'huun corrupted Hir'eek and turned him into his servant. Adventurers worked alongside Jo'chunga and struck Hir'eek down in order to weaken G'huun's forces.

With the seal of Atul'Aman destroyed by Mythrax, and the seal of Nazwatha destroyed by the Cataclysm, Zul and his allies, General Jakra'zet and Yazma, worked to free the Blood God by undoing the last remaining seal, in Zuldazar. The plan was to have G'huun replace the loa as the trolls' new god. The seal was ultimately destroyed by Mythrax during the invasion of Dazar'alor. A group of adventurers entered Uldir and slew G'huun before he could break free.

Hir’eek

Hir’eek was a bat loa honoured by Blood trolls, Darkspear, the Gurubashi and the Zandalari. He is known as the Lord of the Midnight Sky.

Like the other loa of the Gurubashi tribe, Hir'eek was held in Zul'Gurub against his will during the time when the Hakkari were attempting to resurrect Hakkar in Year 25.

After the Cataclysm in Year 28, adventurers in the Cape of Stranglethorn were guided by the spirit of Hir'eek to spy on Zanzil the Outcast's meeting with the Shade of the Hexxer.

In Year 30, before entering the Ancient Passage just prior to his assassination attempt, Vol'jin noticed a flock of bats flying out of the cave. He thought of Hir'eek and wondered if it was a warning.

In Year 33, was corrupted by G'huun and the blood trolls,[7] and subsequently slain by an adventurer with the aid of Jo'chunga and his poison. His death was mourned by the Zandalari. His spirit presumably returned to the Emerald Dream.

Mam’toth

Mam’toth was the loa of mammoths homoured by the Drakkari. When he learnt of his worshippers' plans to steal his power, he destroyed himself, his temple and all worshippers present, creating in Mam'toth Crater.

Moorabi was the high prophet of Mam'tothdrank of the loa's blood and gained some of his power hoping to defend Zul'Drak.

Mueh'zala

Also known as Ueetay no Mueh'zala, is the loa of death honoured by the Farraki. He is known also as the Father of Sleep, the Son of Time and the Night's Friend.

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mythopia1 · 6 years ago

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The Greek Cosmos

In Greek mythology, the cosmos consists of three realms; the heavens, the earth, and the underworld.

The heavens were held aloft by the four great pillars, each ruled by a primordial giant known as a Titan. The east pillar was home to Hyperion, who presided over the heavenly light. The north pillar was governed by Koios, who was a master oracle. Krios resided over the south pillar, which was associated with the coming of spring, and finally there was Iapetus, the creator of mortals, who lived in the pillar to the west. Central to these four great pillars sat Mount Olympus, home of the Olympians. These twelve gods dwelt in fabulous palaces of marble and gold, and included Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Athena, Apollo, Artemis, Hestia, Demeter, Hermes, Aphrodite, Ares and Hephaestus. The palace of Zeus sported a central hall which served as both a council chamber and feast-hall for the gods. The palace provided an expansive view of the world below, known as earth. This realm was the physical embodiment of Gaia (an earth goddess). The ancient Greeks conceived earth as a flat disk, encircled by a great river known as Oceanus. This vast land was inhabited by fey like beings called nymphs and Satyrs, who presided over natural phenomena, such as springs, trees, meadows, and beaches. They were responsible for the care of the plants and animals and were closely associated with nature gods such as Hermes, Dionysus, Artemis, and Demeter. The most notable of these fey beings was Pan, the god of shepherds and hunters. He was often depicted as a snub faced man with horns, goats legs, a thick beard, and pointed ears. There were no temples attributed to Pan, but he was worshipped in natural settings such as caves. It was believed that he often chased nymphs in order to seduce them, but he was always turned down due to his ugly appearance. Far to the western fingers of Earth was an orchard known as the Garden of the Hesperides. It is here that Hera's nymphs tended to a single tree that produced golden apples. These apples granted immortality to anyone who ate theme. Hera placed a hundred-headed dragon in the garden called Ladon, to protect her tree from any thieves who tried to steal the divine fruit in a bid for immortality. Beyond the garden lay the great sea of Oceanus, an ocean-stream that encircled the habitable world. Like Gaia, Oceanus was the physical embodiment of a primordial Titan. Oceanus' consort was his sister Tethys, and from their union came the Oceanids (sea nymphs), and all the rivers of the world, including fountains and lakes. Although Oceanus was the embodiment of the ocean, it was Poseidon, god of the sea, who ruled over its waters. He was the protector of seafarers and developing colonies. In his benign aspect, Poseidon could be found creating new islands and calming the ocean waters. However, when he was offended or ignored, he struck the ground with his trident and caused earthquakes, drownings and shipwrecks. The treacherous sea was also home to two formidable beasts, the Scylla, a sea dragon who lived on one side of a narrow channel of water, and her counterpart Charybdis (a ravenous whirlpool that devoured ships). The two sides of the strait were within an arrow's range of each other, so close that sailors attempting to avoid Charybdis would pass dangerously close to Scylla and vice versa. Below Oceanus lay the underworld (ruled by the god Hades). This gloomy realm was home to chthonic beings and the souls of the departed. It was governed by Hades, who resided in Erebus, the land of shadows. He was the most feared of the gods, and described as ‘pitiless’, and ‘loathsome’. He was often found in his underworld palace, sitting on an ebony throne alongside his wife, Persephone. The underworld was a vast realm, full of many geographical features. The best way to explore this netherworld is by following the fate of three individuals; one who lived a wicked life, one who led an ordinary existence, and one who achieved heroic deeds during their lifetime. Upon their deaths, each soul meets with Hermes, (messenger of the gods), who leads them to the entrance of the underworld. There they meet with Charon, a boatman who ferries the souls of the dead through a network of rivers that run throughout Zoella Hades. Each soul must pay him with a gold coin to gain passage, or else they are left trapped between worlds. They are then ferried down the river Styx, which forms the boundary between Earth and the Underworld. During the boat ride, the souls enter through the gates of the underworld, where they are met by Cerberus, a three-headed dog who guards the way in and the way out. He allows all dead souls to enter, but none to leave. Eventually they arrive at the Stygian Marsh, a swamp which is surrounded by the five rivers of the underworld. It is here, at the crossroads, they appear before a panel of three judges, Rhadamanthus, Minos, and Aeacus, who pass sentence on the three spirits. based on how well or ill they lived their lives. The virtuous soul is sent far to the west to an island known as the Elysian Fields, which is reserved for heroic mortals and demi-gods. Within this bountiful realm, the virtuous souls can indulge in musical pursuits, athletic games and feast on sumptuous foods. The ordinary soul is told to drink from the river Lethe (situated in Erebus), which makes them forget their earthly lives. They are then sent to the Asphodel meadows, a foggy realm where the sun never shines. These souls are ferried by Charon across the river Acheron (river of woe), to spend an indeterminate time in this fertile realm, living off flowers for sustenance. The meadows are dark and gloomy, and all its occupants are mere shadow of their former selves, described as inactive, slow witted and joyless. According to the poet Virgil, these souls will one day be reincarnated upon Earth, and offered another opportunity to live a virtuous life, thus earning a place in Elysium. Finally, the wicked soul is sent to Tartarus, a deep abyss which is used as a dungeon for giants, Titans and monsters. They are escorted by the Furies, three creatures of divine retribution, who march the wretched souls to a life of torture and punishment. To ensure these villains never escaped, two powerful monsters were tasked with guarding the exit. The first was Campe, a colossal being with a woman's head, a dragon’s body and a scorpions tail. She was eventually killed by Zeus when he freed the Cyclopes, and replaced by the Hecatonchires, hundred handed giants, who were stronger than the Titans themselves. According to an ancient mystical tradition, known as Orphism, if you drank from the river of memory, (Mnemosyne), you would retain all your worldly memories, thus ending the transmigration of your soul. It is suggested they could then migrate to Elysium, where they would 'rule among the other heroes.' REFERENCES www.greekmythology.com http://www.theoi.com/ If you’re looking for a really immersive experience of world mythology, why not subscribe to my Patreon page, and gain: Access to in-depth posts on the gods, monsters & heroes of world myth Entry to my FB group on the 'Tales of the Monomyth,' AKA the first story ever told A 'behind the scenes' peek at my upcoming novels & much much more! www.patreon.com/HumanOdyssey

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orthodoxydaily · 3 years ago

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Saints&Reading: Sat., Sept. 18, 2021

September 5_September 18

THE HOLY PROPHET ZACHARIAH AND HOLY RIGHTEOUS ELIZABETH (1st. c.)

The Holy Prophet Zachariah and the Righteous Elizabeth were the parents of the holy Prophet, Forerunner and Baptist of the Lord, John. They were descended from the lineage of Aaron: Saint Zachariah, son of Barach, was a priest in the Jerusalem Temple, and Saint Elizabeth was the sister of Saint Anna, the mother of the Most Holy Theotokos. The righteous spouses, “walking in all the commandments of the Lord” (Luke 1:6), suffered barrenness, which in those times was considered a punishment from God.

Once, during his turn of priestly service in the Temple, Saint Zachariah was told by an angel that his aged wife would bear him a son, who “will be great in the sight of the Lord” (Luke 1:15) and “will go before Him in the spirit and power of Elias” (Luke 1:17).

Zachariah doubted that this prediction would come true, and for his weakness of faith he was punished by becoming mute. When Elizabeth gave birth to a son, through the inspiration of the Holy Spirit she announced that his name was John, although no one in their family had this name.

They asked Zachariah and he also wrote the name John down on a tablet. Immediately the gift of speech returned to him, and inspired by the Holy Spirit, he began to prophesy about his son as the Forerunner of the Lord.

When King Herod heard from the Magi about the birth of the Messiah, he decided to kill all the infants up to two years old at Bethlehem and the surrounding area, hoping that the new-born Messiah would be among them.

Herod knew about John’s unusual birth and he wanted to kill him, fearing that he was the foretold King of the Jews. But Elizabeth hid herself and the infant in the hills. The murderers searched everywhere for John. Elizabeth, when she saw her pursuers, began to implore God for their safety, and immediately the hill opened up and concealed her and the infant from their pursuers.

In these tragic days Saint Zachariah was taking his turn at the services in the Temple. Soldiers sent by Herod tried in vain to learn from him the whereabouts of his son. Then, by command of Herod, they murdered this holy prophet, having stabbed him between the temple and the altar (MT 23: 35). Elizabeth died forty days after her husband, and Saint John, preserved by the Lord, dwelt in the wilderness until the day of his appearance to the nation of Israel.

On the Greek calendar, Saints Zachariah and Elizabeth are also commemorated on June 24, the Feast of the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist.

THE MONKMARTYR ATHANSIUS AFANASIUS OF BRETSK (1649)

The Hieromartyr Athansius of Bretsk was Belorussian and was born in about the year 1597 into a pious Christian family named Philippovich. He received a serious upbringing, and he knew the theological and historical literature, as is evidenced in the diary of the saint, which has been preserved.

In his youth, Saint Athanasius for a while was a teacher in the houses of Polish merchants. In the year 1627, he accepted tonsure under Igumen Joseph at the Vilensk monastery of the Holy Spirit. Saint Athanasius was ordained hieromonk in the year 1632, and made head of the Duboisk [Dubovsk] monastery near Pinsk.

Saint Athanasius, with a special blessing of the Theotokos, re-established Orthodoxy within the boundaries of the ancient Russian territories that had been seized by the Polish Reche. Between the years 1638-1648 Saint Athanasius fulfilled his obedience as igumen of the Bretsk-Simeonov monastery. The monk endured much abuse from the Uniates and illegal persecution from the civil authorities. Three times he endured being locked up in prison.

The saint was sent to the authorities at Kiev to appear before a religious tribunal, but he was acquitted, and returned to his own monastery. For ten years Saint Athanasius, finding himself among persons maliciously disposed towards him, led a constant struggle for Holy Orthodoxy, his faithfulness to which is evidenced by his sufferings.

Attempts to wear down the spiritual endurance of the saint were to no avail. He again went to trial, after which the monk was sentenced to death by execution, for his cursing of the Unia. Saint Athanasius died as a martyr on the night of September 4-5, 1648 (the Uncovering of Relics was on July 20, 1679).

Source: Orthodox Church of America

MATTHEW 23:29-39

29 Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! Because you build the tombs of the prophets and adorn the monuments of the righteous, 30 and say, 'If we had lived in the days of our fathers, we would not have been partakers with them in the blood of the prophets. 31 Therefore you are witnesses against yourselves that you are sons of those who murdered the prophets.32 Fill up, then, the measure of your fathers' guilt.33 Serpents, brood of vipers! How can you escape the condemnation of hell? 34 Therefore, indeed, I send you prophets, wise men, and scribes: some of them you will kill and crucify, and some of them you will scourge in your synagogues and persecute from city to city, 35 that on you may come all the righteous blood shed on the earth, from the blood of righteous Abel to the blood of Zechariah, son of Berechiah, whom you murdered between the temple and the altar. 36 Assuredly, I say to you, all these things will come upon this generation. 37 O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the one who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing! 38 See! Your house is left to you desolate; 39 for I say to you, you shall see Me no more till you say, 'Blessed is He who comes in the name of the LORD!'

HEBREWS 6:13-20

13 For when God made a promise to Abraham, because He could swear by no one greater, He swore by Himself, 14 saying, "Surely blessing I will bless you, and multiplying I will multiply you." 15 And so, after he had patiently endured, he obtained the promise. 16 For men indeed swear by the greater, and an oath for confirmation is for them an end of all dispute. 17 Thus God, determining to show more abundantly to the heirs of promise the immutability of His counsel, confirmed it by an oath, 18 that by two immutable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie, we might have strong consolation, who have fled for refuge to lay hold of the hope set before us. 19 This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast, and which enters the Presence behind the veil, 20 where the forerunner has entered for us, even Jesus, having become High Priest forever according to the order of Melchizedek.

#orthodoxy #orthodoxchristianity #originofchristianity #spirituality #holyscriptures #gospel #wisdom

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altheathewriter · 6 years ago

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Your OC’s backstory - Week 3: Education

@yourocsbackstory

Isiere is from A Constellation of Hearts. It is in the planning stage. You can learn more from the WIP page here.

Which sort of school did they attend?

Isiere was raised in the country, on a small farm belonging to his stepfather. There was a local temple, which was small and had a priest and priestess, and a few lesser knights (knights being devoted warriors who receive the gods’ powers), but not much more. All gods had to share the same temple. Isiere was often left to fend for himself as his tremor disorder didn’t allow him to be of much use around the farm. He would go to the temple and learn the doctrines of the gods there, however, he never learned how to read.

How did they get along with their teachers?

The priest and priestess didn’t mind him, but didn’t spend too much time with him either. His presence was accepted, and if he asked questions they would answer. He got on a bit better with the knights, who allowed him to help them even if he was slow and fumbling. They taught him swordsmanship even though his tremor did not allow him to advance much.

The priestess finally took notice of him one day when he recited the entire doctrine of The Sisters. She noticed his piety and began to teach him more. She wanted to train him to be a priest, but then word came along that the previous vessel for The Sisters had vacated, and she sent a letter to the main temple that he would be a good candidate.

How about fellow students?

Not many other people in the village and surrounding areas were interested in learning at the temple. Everyone was too busy farming and surviving.

Were they eager to learn or problem students (or both?)?

Isiere was eager to learn. He found comfort in faith, and felt he had found a place to belong. He was never hurt or insulted when at the temple, and he found it easy to memorize the doctrines. He was used to being ignored, so he didn’t take insult to the priest and priestess not paying much attention to him. When the priestess did start taking notice of him, he proved to be an apt pupil. He did learn some reading, but he’s not very good at it.

When he comes to the main temple as a knight, knowledge is given to him through The Sisters, including language and math. However he knows it is not his knowledge. It comes to him when he needs it.

.....

The pews in the old temple were worn and splintered. Quite a few had been taken out due to rot. The thatched roof leaked onto the floor before the many altars, which were crammed into the chancel alongside each other, the icons of the gods near shoulder to shoulder, for the temple was poor, and all worshipped here.

I’d come here before, and just as before, no one paid me any mind. I slipped into one of the pews and waited for the doctrines to begin again. It was near evening, so the dedications would be for The Sisters, who were my favorites anyway. Usually it was the priestess who led this ceremony. And this day it looked to be as I would be the only worshipper in attendance.

The book of doctrines was laid out before the altars. The configuration of marks that made up the words crossed the page in neat rows. Curls and lines in some pattern I never learned. But it didn’t matter when in the temple, what it was that you knew and did not know.

The priestess entered from the side, her robes layers of sheers overlaid with the blue cloak of night and embroidered with the Sisters’ constellation. The woman was old, one of the oldest people I’ve ever seen. Her skin was soft and saggy upon her arms and cheeks, and her lips puckered in where her a full set of teeth once had been. Grey waves spilled from her head under her priestess’s diadem. Each priestess had one, and it had to be the most expensive item within reach of the village.

Her voice was clear as she spoke. The words were not foreign, so I understood them easily. I lifted my hands in prayer, hoping she did not notice as I rested the back of my wrists on the pew back before me, as I recited them in a whisper to myself. I almost knew them by heart.

“...from where time ends, time begins. What has come to pass is yet to be. We are the unmovable object within time’s flow and yet always moving within time’s stillness. Take comfort in knowing that everything you are and everything you will be has already happened. All is as it should be, and what should be is yet to come...”

Many did not understand the Sisters. Time to them moved forward and left in its wake only death and pain. It was something we all struggled to leave behind yet clawed to still as days passed. I knew of mother, who worried of her wrinkles and graying hair. The tombstones lining the forest’s edge. A babe was born in the village just the week before. Year in and year out, to a child it was a slow and fascinating process, and to the old, it moved too fast to thoughts that had grown slow.

“You there.”

I halted my muttering. My fingers curled in on my hands. For a moment, I was unsure of who spoke, or where I was. Prayer had a way of doing that, for me. Removing me from my mind and troubles. But it was the priestess. She was looking right at me, and had interrupted the doctrines to speak to me.

“Was I speaking too loud?” I asked. “I will be quieter.”

She didn’t answer the question. She walked over, her old, bare feet leaving the altar to give cracks of bones and joints on the way to the pew in which I sat. She looked me over.

“What is your name?”

“Isiere.”

“You know all the words to the doctrines?”

My mouth floundered, gaping open and shut for a moment. I did not know the words, not the ones on the page. But I knew what they said. “Yes?”

“Come. The gods have heard from me for decades. I’m sure they’d delight in a new voice.” She stepped to the side. I hesitated but for a moment, but obeyed. I stepped from the pew and brought the sole of my shoe onto the worn aisle carpet. I immediately lifted my foot. One must connect from the earth to the skies before the gods.

My feet touched cold stone ground as I shed my shoes, and I tried not to let a shiver disrupt me. I went slowly to the altar, as this was the place for knights and priests, not for me.

Not for some lowly boy who could not even know the words of the doctrines.

I looked upon the book and marveled on it. It was twice as wide as my shoulders and edged in worn leafing. The letters were plain and black, but precise in design. I could see the marks used to guide the drawing of the letters. I could imagine some learned scholar drawing these marks, knowing exactly what they meant. They were skilled and intelligent, whoever they had been, for the book was older than even the priestess.

“I don’t know the letters, Mother.”

“You know them. I have heard you.”

“But those are only the words you have spoken.”

“They are one and the same.” She reached over me and pressed an arthritic finger to the page. “...in time’s grasp I leave my self, and my wants, for they are as fleeting as flesh...”

“...for time has no hold upon that which cannot die, the spirit within, splintered from the gods and given life by dust and pain and thought,” I finished. “A borrowed shard returned to the gods, never beginning, and never ending.”

That is what I loved about the Sisters. One was important, and one was insignificant, all at once. One could live such a wretched existence as mine, and yet, know that suffering was inconsequential in the spanse of all things.

“They are your favorite.”

“Yes.”

“Then finish the doctrine.” The priestess moved to the nearest pew, leaving me to stand before the altar alone. She sat with a slump that barely caused the wood to creak, as her birds bones held little weight. “Its been over thirty years since someone has preached them to me, boy. Your voice is clear and steady. You needn’t know letters to speak the words with the love you hold in your heart.”

The pillowed out seam of her lips upturned, pushing wrinkles up into her eyes.

I turned to the altar. The figure of the Sisters was crude at best, with paint worn away to reveal the wood from which it was carved here and there. Small offerings of blue painted stones were laid at their feet. The particle of time was just a simple painted sphere between three outstretched hands devoid of definition, so their fingers were but paddles with painted lines.

I raised my hands. The light of the candles of the altars glowed between my fingers and illuminated the motes in the air. My palms circled, gathering the dust on their own accord. I bowed my head.

“Such it was at the beginning of time, and so will it be at the end...know and trust that death has no meaning, for you are the blood that beats within the hearts of gods...”

#isiere #yourocsbackstory #a constellation of hearts #writeblr #week 3 education

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somaybeimbiased · 7 years ago

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SHINee 5 | Spirit AU

So I got this idea while playing Onmyoji so can you make Minho Jonghyun and Onew as people that summons spirits and Key is Jonghyun’s special Fox Spirit and Taemin Minho’s special something spirit - aliashawol

Onew, Jonghyun and Minho are Mediums and have a temple that many people visit to reach loved ones. They use ancient methods of contacting spirits and have a very unique approach that many are skeptical of, though they have never been proven fake.

Onew

Onew runs the temple and has always practiced safe summoning spells, the temple has been passed down through his family to the eldest child.

He grew up with Key and Taemin has his keepers and protectors

As per the rules, he had to find two clear-sighted men to help him.

He sent Taemin and Key into the city to find who he was looking for.

Key came back with Jonghyun and Taemin with Minho

Onew gifted his companions to his new trainees.

He is very in tune with spirits and he is connected to the spirit world due to a curse set on his family.

Back before modern technology, his grandmother was a human of clear sight and a witch.

She misused magic and had found a way to enslave spirits for her benefit.

Upon her death, she was bound to the human world and a curse was placed on her bloodline.

All descendants would be clear-sighted and tasked to help all lost souls.

They would be allowed two children, and of the two children, the spirits would decide who their caretaker would be.

If the child wasn’t chosen, they would lose their sight of the spirit world.

Her only son was to build a temple to house lost spirits until they could be given a rest.

He built a large temple with many sacred rooms on the lower level each for different kinds of spells and summoning.

Above the temple, he made his house, where all descendants have lived from then on.

Onew had an older sister but he was chosen due to his calm and nurturing personality, but also for his intense need for peace.

Onew never complained about giving his future for his distant relative’s mistakes.

He just wanted the spirits he’d seen since he was a baby get help.

Upon being chosen he was gifted two companions to help teach and guide him, but also to act as gatekeepers to the spirit realm, leading the souls towards the light but never stepping in themselves.

One of them was a fox spirit, Key, who was to teach him to be forceful and outspoken in a way that would offend the spirits he would deal with among other things.

The other was Taemin, a swan spirit who was to teach him to be freer and how not to dwell on things.

He grew up with them from the age of 10 and they have always been his best friends.

He saw the kind of people they brought with them and decided that Jonghyun and Minho needed what Key and Taemin were best at and then assigned his best friends to his new partners.

Jonghyun

Jonghyun was a simple office worker before Key found him.

He hated his life, working 12 hours days and barely getting paid enough to sustain him

His mom had always told him he was meant to do great things that would touch many people.

But he didn’t think sending emails while working customer service was really what she meant.

One November day there was a warm breeze that filled his cubicle.

He turned and saw a fox sitting near his bag.

Jonghyun froze and looked around.

When the fox took his small bag and ran with it, he had to follow.

He followed the fox into the bathroom.

How did that fox even open the door?

“Yah, give me that.” He took his bag back as the fox became a human man with fox-like features like the tail and ears.

He fell back against the door, hecka confused.

After some convincing and short introductions, Key managed to get Jonghyun to go with him to the temple to meet Onew.

Jonghyun was pretty skeptical at first, but after seeing Key turn into a fox and back into a human, and then watching Onew show him some magic he was easily convinced.

He picked up on the talking to spirits part easily compared to Minho but was crap at magic.

He and Key bonded together very quickly and he felt himself fall for the Fox spirit.

After being there for a year he is given the chance to leave or stay, and he chooses to stay right away.

Mainly for the others.

But also, for himself.

Maybe his mom was right.

Key

Waking up in the arms of a small child was confusing for the fox spirit.

The last thing he remembered was falling off a cliff while leading some of his boy scouts hiking.

A storm hit and it got windy, and he saved a kid by sacrificing himself.

The fates smiled upon him and made him into a guiding spirit, a fox.

He didn’t choose this.

But being able to help lost souls like himself, and his new friend, the swan find solace was good enough.

Sure he missed his life, but Onew’s journey was more important, or at least that’s what the old lady told him.

Years passed filled with stressful training on how to be good guides and how to help Onew and collaborate with Taemin.

But they were some of the best times of his life.

So the change of Onew bringing in two newcomers scared him.

But following his gut and sense of smell led him to a large, bland office building.

It wasn’t exactly the type of place he was looking for to find the person he had a vision of.

A good-looking man, very thin, light brown hair, and a very thin face with the best cheekbones he’d ever seen.

But his eyes are what struck Key. They were puppy dog eyes.

Adorable.

Key wandered the large building up to the 15th floor where he found the man’s cubicle.

What a drab place.

He took the man’s bag and brought him into the bathroom.

The look on this puppy dog’s face when Key turned into a human.

Priceless.

He took a liking to this man, Jonghyun.

When Onew said he’d be helping Jonghyun, he got unusually excited.

Minho was also a good addition to the team, even if they did but heads a lot.

Key was happier than he was while alive.

Even if he was stuck as part fox now.

Minho

Minho was a bland kind of guy.

His life felt meaningless.

He was going to school for a law, which he hated. But he wanted to please his family.

His family didn’t even like him, so he never really understood why he tried so hard.

It was finals week and he was honestly 1000% done and he was washed up.

He was trying to study next to a tree by some pond at a park near his crappy studio apartment.

He kept letting himself get distracted because his heart wasn’t into studying.

He noticed this really, really beautiful swan perched in the water near him.

He stupid the swan for a while and threw a piece of his bagel into the water for it.

He could’ve sworn he saw the bird blink at him.

He was more confused was the swan swam to the bank of the pond and clambered out of the water and over to Minho.

Minho moved the book out of his lap so he could reach forward to pet the strange swan.

The swan perched itself in his lap instead and Minho laughed, talking to the swan cutely.

“You’re so precious, look at you.” He smiled, feeling the soft white feathers.

In an instant, the swan was replaced by a man who looked only slightly younger than himself.

“Holy shi-”

“Nice to meet you too! I’m Taemin, the Swan spirit guide. You’re a clear-sighted human, and so you’re coming with me to help guide spirits, there are a lot more benefits than going into law could give you, plus you get me too!” he winked, “so lets throw those textbooks into the garbage can and I’ll bring you to the temple.”

Minho argued and debated the swan for an hour before he was convinced to at least go see what was going on.

Minho would never regret that choice.

He’d been to the temple as a child when his mom died. His dad had taken him and his elder brother to try to talk to her.

Ever since Minho had seen her spirit appear and talk to them, he’d believed in spirits despite what others said.

He got into it, trying to outdo Jonghyun at being a helper.

He was great at the magic part, becoming very strong and skilled quickly, but he lacked good communication skills needed to effectively talk to the spirits.

That’s why Taemin helped him so much, the swan was easily able to cover the areas Minho lacked.

And Minho felt himself fall for the young swan.

This was the best choice he’d ever made.

Taemin

Taemin was pretty confused for three reasons.

He was a bird, He woke up in some kids arms next to a fox, and he was pretty sure that he was a human-like, 20 minutes prior.

Taemin was a young college dropout who had taken a dangerous route in life.

His friends were bad people, but they were all he had.

He’d grown up as an orphan without any friends.

So when they wanted to rob a bank, Taemin let himself get dragged into it.

They took hostages, and when the police came in and started shooting, Taemin saved a young girl who had tried to run as the bullets were fired.

He took a bullet and woke up in the arms of a child.

He was okay being a swan, they were cool, right?

He learned quickly what his role was as a spirit guide, and as a guardian of Onew.

He loved Onew and Key a lot, they quickly became his family, and he loved them like his own brothers.

He was a little upset when Onew suggested that invite others to help. He was afraid it would mess up his family dynamic.

But as he sat in the water, waiting for someone to see him, he felt like his heart exploded as soon as he made eye contact with him.

He knew that his man was who they needed.

Once he convinced the stubborn man, Minho, to come with him the rest was history.

He grew close to Minho and Jonghyun, but he would always have a thing for Minho, as his guardian.

Him and Minho complemented each other greatly, and that what made him love Minho.

He was very content, now that he had a family, people who genuinely loved him.

A/N I love you guys!!

See more of my work on my Masterlist

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adventuresofdroop · 4 years ago

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Mo’ Money Mo’ Problems

Over an awkward breakfast in the temple, the party debated how best to spend their last tenday before the caravan was to depart for Wave Echo Cave. With no pressing business of unfinished goals in the city, they decided to go their separate ways and regroup when the supplies and workers would be ready to go.

First, they went to Allis Lhyssich’s shop with the starmetal, now that Winstrock was not otherwise horizontally occupied. He was in awe of the chunks of metal they had found. The party decide to keep one, now in Ander’s possession, but the other was given to Allis in exchange for a new rapier crafted from the metal. Half would be consumed in forging the weapon, and Allis would keep the other half as payment for rushing this out in time for the group to leave the following week.

Ander decided to head first to the Library of the Unseen University to do some research on Wave Echo Cave and try to discover what might have been lurking down that passage they caved in. He found a paper written by the dragonborn wizard Edroneus speculating about Abeloth lairs being established in underground seas in the region. Reading about Abeloths and what they can do, he returned to the temple traumatized and decided to spend the remaining half of his time trying to forget what he had learned by gambling.

He met up with Ser Winstrock, who had been recently victorious in the fighting pits, winning several bouts and pocketing 100 gold for his efforts.

Winstrock dragged Ander out of the temple to go to a casino where he wagered his winnings from the fighting pits and did quite well, netting an additional 150 gold. Ander, perhaps still distracted from his findings, did not do so well and lost half of the 100 gold he was persuaded to put up by Winstrock. The latter, feeling a bit guilty for pushing his friend, gave him a bit of his own winnings to make up for this loss.

Sedoris returned to her roots as a traveling bard and bounced from tavern to pub to inn playing for the patrons and having a wonderful time. The novelty of a tiefling bard, and one who was from so far away with so many new songs they had never heard no less, turned out to be a lucrative hook and she made about 15 gold a night. Unfortunately, she did accidentally draw the ire of another lizardfolk druid in one bar, unintentionally forgetting to correct a very old song lyric that made use of what turned out to be a slur referring to the lizardfolk race. She was unharmed, but later had to discuss this incident with Daskan, being genuinely confused by this incident. She’d been called slurs all her life, after all, it was just the way of the world and she hadn’t given it a second thought.

Droop and Sha’shi’ decided to spend their time bettering themselves and training. Ander put Droop in contact with some other rogues and thieves in the city, who were able to quickly improve his grasp of Thieves’ Cant, which would be helpful in mitigating the incidents they’ve had where Droop was not picking up on subtle signals in tense situations.

After realizing they have run into numerous elves on their travels but no one in the group knows Elvish, Sha’shi’ enlisted the help of their elven Haper friends to learn the language in record time. Using various spells and potions to tamper with her brain, she was able to absorb the language (at significant expense, for these aids).

Lastly, Daskan decided to get away from the city and commune with nature. He wandered the wilderness off to the east of the city on his own observing the wildlife and learning all he could about new beasts he had never seen before.

This would allow him a greater range of minions he might summon forth in the future, as well as more useful forms that he might take with his wild shape ability.

They all regrouped on the final day. In saying their goodbyes, Winstrock suggested to Androsli that perhaps she might accompany them and move into the now-refurbished manor house down in Phandalin. She could still continue working for the Harpers at the Shrine of Luck with Sister Garaele. He was incredibly persuasive, and she decided it was time for a new adventure in her life. She took some time to pack and turn over control of the temple to her acolytes, then joined the group as they went to collect Winstrock’s new adamantine rapier.

(Above: Actual footage of Winstrock breaking the news to the others)

With the caravan organized, they set off at last for Wave Echo Cave!

On the way they were accosted by a mysterious figure with snakes for hair, accompanied by two giant constrictor snakes. Sha’shi’ sprang into action and attempted to negotiate with these beings.

Unfortunately, she greatly insulted the medusa and provoked her ire, but she was able to persuade one of the snakes that the beef only existed between its master and the group and so would sit out the fight.

Daskan summoned his bear companions while Winstrock and Ander closed in for melee combat; Sedoris and Droop stayed back and rained crossbow bolts into the medusa. One bear was immediately constricted by the giant snake, but the medusa was thankfully dispatched quickly before she could make effective use of her petrifying gaze on any of the party. With their master dead, Sha’shi’ spoke to the snakes again and convinced them that they were free and they would be left in peace if they ceased fighting. They agreed, after which Daskan went a step further and persuaded one of the snakes to accompany them on their journey.

Unfortunately, they did nothing to engage the snake further along the way, so after a while it became bored of the trip and slithered off into the woods at night (but not until after Daskan had learned all about it so he could summon more or take its shape himself).

Stopping off in Phandalin, they left the caravan on the outskirts and checked in on their manor, which had been fully repaired and was having its inner walls finished, with the kitchen equipment arriving next. The group eagerly explored the building and laid claim to the rooms that would be theirs (Sha’shi’ continuing to issue extremely specific instructions regarding her furniture and its placement, and demanding Droop’s room be adjacent to hers). Winstrock claimed the room directly above Sha’shi’s so she might enjoy the banging of his headboard each night.

They also stopped in briefly to check on the Alderlef Farm and see how Qelline and Carp were doing with the owlbear nests. Carp had been diligently taking a wheelbarrow full of the prescribed foods out to the edge of the woods each evening and after a few days there were always several owlbears waiting for him.

A few days earlier, however, they stopped showing up and the food went untouched. Daskan dashed off into the woods (Carp had heeded their warning to not go in there himself), and confirmed that the nests appeared abandoned, with nothing but eggshells remaining.

Daskan complimented Carp on his handling of the owlbears and suggested that if he ever wanted to become a full druid, he could put him in touch with people when the time came. Carp looked overjoyed at this, though his mother was not thrilled with the idea.

Continuing on to the cave, they were greeted by the Rockseekers. While the wagons were unloaded and workers led inside, they were brought up to speed. It seems the idea to give tours worked out well, though once the original curiosity-seekers had visited, business quieted down, which honestly made it easier to keep things organized and safe. The lake had been steadily filling with water, but then one day it suddenly gave a great “burp” and the level dropped back to its original state.

The crew set out once again on the boat and sent Daskan-Lapras to investigate (Ander insisted on staying on shore, remembering his research about abeloths). On the way down, he noticed the corpse of the plesiosaur rotting on the bottom; it seems that such a large creature in a small lake was relying on biomass coming into the system via that passageway and it starved once that was closed off. Sadly continuing on, he examined the tunnel and confirmed that it was still effectively sealed off, but that it had shifted to allow water to flow through due to the overwhelming pressure.

Confirming they seemed mostly safe for the moment, they warned the Rockseekers about the possibility that an aboleth might have made its lair behind that tunnel. They were given their next mission: To arrange for a closer, fresher, more reliable food supply.

Departing at last, they set off in the direction of Triboar and Yartar. One night along the way, when they were very near the southern tip of the Neverwinter Wood, a treant approached them, angry at humanoids not respecting the forest and destroying his trees. Daskan tried reasoning with him in Druidic, but with no success; Ser Winstrock taking out an axe did not endear the group to the treant who animated two trees to flank the group as he charged forward.

Thankfully, Sha’shi’s newfound language skills allowed her to also intervene in Elvish, which the treant understood. She persuaded him that they meant no harm and would not hurt the trees. The treant apologized for his actions, which just underscored his philosophy that anything done in haste is always incorrect. He and his tree friends retreated into the forest without further bloodshed.

The following night, the camp was visited by a vengeful ghost, who floated into Ander’s body and possessed him...

...forcing him to attack Daskan (in the form of a cave bear for its heightened senses while on watch duty). Unwilling to attack Ander, Sedoris did attempt to grapple and restrain him, without much success. Eventually, Ander’s own fortitude expelled the spirit, which flitted instead into Sedoris.

Sha’shi’ decided to try an unusual approach and cast polymorph on Sedoris to turn her into a frog. This succeeded in expelling the spirit, which was ill-suited to possess the amphibian. Winstrock was able to rush up and finish off the ghost before it could possess another of his compatriots.

Finally arriving in Triboar, the party headed straight for the tower in the center of town and met the Lord Protector, Darathra Shendrel. They asked if anyone might be knowledgeable about the history of the area. They were pointed in the direction of the apothecary, run by probably the most educated of the townsfolk, but were advised to not get their hopes up. Asking after where they might find hirelings for JBI, they were pointed in the direction of the Triboar Travellers which hires out mercenaries and crews and equipment for caravans. Lastly, for food supplies, they were referred to the local branch of Lionshield Coster, The Lion’s Share.

Visiting The Lion’s Share, they learned that there was in fact another branch of Lionshield Coster back in Phandalin they might have spoken to.

However, the proprietor agreed to send messages to the Phandalin branch and headquarters in Yartar to make the arrangements.

Moving on to the apothecary, they simply learned that there were rumors or legends in the region of a cloaked figure who appeared at night in the fog. Daskan purchased some “sweet water” flasks, and they learned there was rumored to be a Harper agent (a woman) somewhere in town.

They decided to head to the Triboar Arms, a tavern, for a bite to eat and see if they might talk to some more people about all these rumors. Winstrock seized upon some inspiration and whipped out the Alchemy Bottle. Approaching the tiefling bartender, he offered to trade 2 gallons of mayonnaise for lunch. Baffled, the barkeep said, “What the hell would I do with two gallons of mayo, who asks such a thing?” In the end, he did indeed accept the offer of a gallon of honey, which was rare since their town’s resident beekeeper died of old age.

Sedoris was particularly interested in the first tiefling she had seen in ages, who she also found quite attractive. She struck up a spirited conversation with him while the rest, having finished lunch, turned their attention to a group of rangers meeting around another table. Sha’shi’ approached them and, overcoming some initial awkwardness, learned that rangers often came to do a pilgrimage of sorts to Gwaeron’s Slumber, a wood where Gwaeron Windstrom, the god of tracking, is said to visit, but that the wood is no longer safe, plagued by an oni that took up residence in a cave in there. They offered the services of JBI for demon extermination and were offered 100 gold to take care of the problem, payable upon return of the oni’s head.

They also learned from one of the elves that the Harper in town is the Lord Protector herself, so they returned to the tower, somewhat embarrassed for not having asked before. They learned that she has not heard from any other Harper agents in a while, and is troubled that she received no warning of a fire giant in the area of the Starmetal Hills that might soon find their town, currently mostly defenseless. She also enlisted the services of JBI to take care of the giant before it finds Triboar, at the price of 150 gold.

Debating for a moment continuing to Yartar first, they decided to take care of these contracts first before potentially being saddled with more work in the next city. They set off at once for Gwaeron’s Slumber, a dense forest that was so quiet it almost felt like the air was pressing in on their ears and muffling everything. It wasn’t long before the oni found them and lunged out from behind the thick trees, unleashing a cone of cold that nearly killed poor Droop again.

Shaking off the frost, the team moved to encircle the now-gigantic demon. Massive damage was dealt, to which the oni responded by casting invisibility and fleeing. Winstrock took some wild shots with a crossbow but, unsurprisingly, did not land any of those shots.

Daskan, thinking quickly, cast faerie fire, which causes any creatures in the area of the spell’s effect to glow, allowing them to again target the oni. Ander turned quickly and with his steady aim fired a bolt straight into the demon’s eye and felled it at last.

Daskan simply picked up the entire body and carried it on his shoulders back to the Triboar Arms, earning the admiration of the group of rangers. They were enticed to remain in town for some time, as they might be interested in offering them employment on their way back through after visiting Yartar.

Taking rooms in the inn to rest up, they set out the following morning to try to track the fire giant to the north. Daskan, in the form of a bear again, was able to detect the scent of smoke, and soon they saw a pillar of that smoke rising over the horizon. Fire giants, it turns out, are really obvious and easy to track, and soon they found him.

Daskan, still in bear form, charged ahead recklessly and sank his teeth and claws into the giant. The rest of the party ran to catch up and began hurling all of their spells and bolts at the creature. The giant swung his enormous greatsword twice into Daskan-bear, dealing brutal levels of damage and forcing him back into his lizardfolk form.

Winstrock, using his magic ring, sprang ahead to attack the giant from behind. His eagerness was unfortunately rewarded with a vicious double swipe of the greatsword, pushing him to the very edge of death.

Fortunately, Daskan took the shape of a giant constrictor snake while Ander, inspired by Sedoris’ encouragement, landed some precise crossbow shots to the head and neck. Combined with Sha’shi’s cold magic and some more crack shots from Droop’s crossbow, the giant finally fell (with Winstrock barely dodging out of the way before the falling corpse claimed his little remaining life force).

Slipping the enormous greatsword into the bag of holding, they retreated, badly wounded, to Triboar to speak with the Lord Protector and recover.

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hemakesallthingsbeautiful · 4 years ago

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Birthday Essays // 2020

Happy birthday, my friend!!!!! X though our once-a-year encounters are short, they are meaningful and always lead me into deeper contemplation of what God is doing in both of our lives, and how we are called to serve each other in our friendship through encouragement and edification; and as a result sent back into the world, to serve our neighbours, family, communities, His people, in greater ways, with greater love, because we draw from the wellspring of His unconditional love!

As I reflect on this year, and as I reflect on this friendship of ours, I cannot but burst into thanksgiving!! I am thankful for the way that God has placed you in my life, I am thankful for the way God is working in your life, I am thankful for who we are together in Christ, I am thankful for how He pursues us. Seeing how you’ve grown in your faith this year, and how you’ve so intentionally pursued Him is such a huge encouragement to me, X. Thank-you for walking with me, and for letting me walk with you.

X, I sense that God has given you such peace in this season. I really do feel that this season of transition and of waiting is actually a gift from God, that He really giving you a gift of rest, that it is a seasonal sabbath that He is inviting you into! And I really feel you leaning into His invitation with such obedience, Her! When I read your messages, I see you patiently waiting on God, and laying down your ambitions, your will, and your desires to Him, and I know that this surrender is not of the flesh, but of the Holy Spirit. Because the strength to surrender can only come from Him, and this act of obedience requires such confidence in our identity as His beloved. So more than anything, I know you have stepped so much deeper into your identity in Him. That there is nothing you need to do, to prove, to be, to accomplish, to achieve- in this lifetime, on this earth, of the world’s standard, in the world’s timeline- that will make you more worthy or loved, or important. Scripture that I’ve been immersed in and in so many ways, challenged by, is this passage:

“When all the people were being baptized, Jesus was baptized too. And as he was praying, heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.” Luke 3:21-22.

Before Jesus began His ministry, before he spoke truth to power, performed miracles, brought healing to the sick, proclaimed scripture in boldness, was consumed by zeal for the temple, before He preached the sermon on the mount, fed the 5000, commissioned His disciples, calmed the seas, raised the dead- most importantly, before He was led to the cross, before He did what He was sent into the earth to do, God said to Him “you are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well-pleased”.

Could it be that we are loved before we do what we are called to do and be who we were called to be?

The most profound, counter-cultural way of love- that which is unconditional, overwhelmed with grace,- that we are God’s beloved, and He is pleased with us well before we do anything, or be anything or anyone. God keeps reminding me, and I hope this reminder will also encourage you as it did me, that my first and foremost identity is as God’s beloved, it is as a receiver of His grace. And it is in the security of this identity, that I pursue every subsequent calling, it is in this identity that I use my gifts and step into the worldly roles and spheres of influence that God entrusts me with.

Yet still this desire to pursue a ‘calling’ and ‘purpose’ is so visceral, this inner urge to be somebody to do something- meaningful, impactful, worthy, is one that will be present so long as we are human, and so long as we live in a fallen world of seeking fulfilled desires, celebrated status and lifestyles, and reputable roles and careers. X, you are one of the most ambitious and determined individuals I know, and it is without a doubt that I know that you will bless the world with your gifts, and that you have and will continue to achieve many meaningful milestones, that you have and will step into roles of influence and power. I know God has and will entrust you with much. I hope that your identity first and foremost will always remain as His beloved. And out of this identity, that you pursue every subsequent calling and vocation in freedom, peace, and with open hands rather than clenched fists. Because maybe it’s when we hold onto our callings loosely, that we are able to hold onto God more tightly. “But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” - Matthew 6:33 . You are going to bless so many people, X. Whether it’s as a doctor, whether it’s in the healthcare sector, whether it’s as a professor, whether it’s as a consultant- all is contingent, and yet that is okay, because of one thing I know is certain, and it’s that God is going to use you for His glory!!

I am so happy to hear that you have found a church to be a part of!!! I hope that it is a community that you will walk closely with, that you can be vulnerable with and that they can be a source of encouragement and support in your life, as you seek out the plans that God has prepared for you!!! And I hope that you will continue to rely on me as your friend, as your sister-in-Christ, and as someone who is always rooting for you, and always looking out for you and your heart and soul!! I am so thankful for your friendship X.

As you enter into the next few weeks before writing your MCAT, I know that God has already given you peace, and I hope that this peace will continue to sustain you. That your heart will be still, and that you will rely on His strength and wisdom, and that He will fill you with great courage and endurance! I am so proud of you, and your diligence and your single-minded pursuit of what God has put on your heart! I know how much this medical profession means to you, and I pray that God will continue to remind you that He knows your heart, that He sees you, and He will fulfil every desire that is according to His perfect will!

I’m praying for a 2020 that is filled with God’s unconditional love and grace, of His unravelling plans for you, and a year that is spent drawing close to Him, and as a result one that leads us to greater Christ-likeness- of humility, compassion, forgiveness, joy, and peace. I am so thankful for you! Thank you for being in my life, thank you for loving me, and thank you for always being such a huge encouragement and blessing in my life!!

Love you and miss you always! Happy Birthday!!!

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skellylicious · 7 years ago

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Doll 6

Warning for intense/disturbing imagery.

Spot’s door was locked, again. Grumbling to himself, G strode over to the offending door and unlocked it with one hand, then paused. Voidster hadn’t done this in quite some time. Suspiciously, he turned the handle of the door, silently opening it to peer inside. The shaft of light from outside the room fell upon two figures lying together in the bed. Spot was lying on her side, staring blankly at the wall. Doll was behind her, arms wrapped around Spot’s torso and face buried in her hair. G sighed.

Spot glanced down at him, and gave a small, helpless shrug. Leaving the door open, the lich stepped into the room, kneeling beside her as Doll slept on, oblivious. “Did Voidster do this?” he murmured, barely audibly.

Spot grimaced, rolling her eyes. “What do you think? Apparently it’s my job to babysit whatever the two of you adopt; whether it’s a half-starved kitten or another human being. Voidster said the lock on her door is broken, and she wouldn’t stay in her room.”

G scowled, propping his chin on his hand, his elbow balanced on his knee as he muttered, “Why does he insist on keeping such a broken, useless, girl?”

He had intended the question to be rhetorical, but Spot surprised him with an answer. “Haven’t you noticed yet? That’s what he likes, G. This is your house, but all of us are here because of him. He likes broken people. Me...you...her.” She ignored his glare at being included in this category. “You know I’m right.”

She was right. G had never considered this before, and the reality of it stunned him. Voidster had always held a fascination for damaged people. He liked vulnerability. He liked to manipulate, to control. It was no surprise that he had taken in a girl who was both damaged, and prone to irrational adoration and obedience.

G had loved Sun for her sassy intelligence, her fearlessness and brilliant soul. It was what attracted him to her. He appreciated those traits in his mate as well. Voidster had none of Sun’s compassion or sense of Justice, but he was just as strong-willed and fearless. If G had a “type” of person that he felt attracted to, then that was it.

Voidster’s type was as Spot had said. Broken. Vulnerable. Easily manipulated. It didn’t sit well with the lich to realize this. He knew that Voidster had some respect for him, that the man treated him as an equal, usually. And yet, would he feel any interest at all in G, if G did not possess those “attractive” traits that his mate preferred? It disturbed him.

He was broken from his reverie by movement in the corner of his eye. Doll had woken up, and was watching him. “I used to have beautiful hair, like this,” she murmured, reverently touching Spot’s scalp. “The people who give you scars take everything away. It’s what they do.”

Disturbed, the lich stood up, ignoring the troubled look in Spot’s eyes. “Keep her out of my study,” he said shortly, then left, closing the door behind him.

***

My Angel didn’t know why I was crying, that night. I was showered, wrapped in a fresh towel, and carried back to my room. My bandages were removed, lest they become wet. I saw my face in the mirror. With the sight of the scar, like a hideous centipede attached to my temple, came a flood of memories.

***

They were screaming again. I cradled my younger sister against me and tried to shield her from the words. My parents hated us. They hated each other. The walls were thin, and we were too young to do anything but hide. We held each other and cried silently, lest the sound of our grief inspire further wrath.

She was a beautiful child, my sister. Auburn curls, hazel eyes. I always envied her those hazel eyes. We were best friends, only a year apart in age. We learned quiet games, and to read before our classmates. Reading was a safe thing; it made no noise, and took us away from the nightmarish world we lived in. The school was generous with books, which was good, for we could afford none of our own.

I was reading to her the day it happened. It was a fairytale. I remember it, like I remember the scent of her skin, and the warmth of her body in my lap. It was late afternoon, and the sunlight filtered into our filthy home, temporarily gilding the ugliness before the shadows came.

My mother had been drinking, staring out the window like she was waiting for someone. Perhaps for my father. He had left a vivid bruise on her arm, like maroon grapes imprinted on her soft flesh. She came into our bedroom, and I saw the bruise when she bent to take my sister’s hand for her bath. She saw me see it, and said nothing. I was not unintelligent. There was no explanation needed.

If I had known that would be the last time I saw my sister, I don’t know what I would have done. I rehearsed it in my head, afterward. Bravely taking her hand in mine, running out the door and into the streets. Pushing my mother’s hand away. Later, when I learned how it had happened, I imagined breaking the fingers of that hand. Curling my fist in the pretty auburn hair my sister had inherited, and dragging her head back while a blade slid across her throat.

Those awful thoughts didn’t come until later. Now, all I heard were the gentle sounds of the bath, the splashing of water. It was some time before I realized how long it had been. Much too long. When I listened, I heard my mother’s quiet sobbing from the bathroom, and the slosh of water against the tile. I think I knew, then. But my mind protected me for a little bit longer.

The walk down the hallway was long, and solemn. Shadows were beginning to form. Father would be home soon. I was worried that he would be angry our baths had taken so long. Dinner wasn’t ready. I saw the uncooked pasta lying on the countertop.

Hesitantly, I pushed the bathroom door open. And the fluorescent light flickered over a scene that embedded itself in my mind like a parasitic worm, burrowing, and burrowing. I saw my sister lying naked in the tub, face down in the water. Her beautiful curls floated serenely in the tepid waves. I screamed.

My mother sat helplessly on the floor, staring at her hands, weeping. I dragged my sister’s body from the tub, though it seemed to weigh more than anything I could imagine. Her lips were blue. Her beautiful eyes were cold and blank. I shook her and screamed again. My mother wept. My sister flopped limply in my grasp- like a doll. The neighbors came. Then the ambulance came. They took us all to the hospital. I held my sister’s hand so that she wouldn’t be afraid. Her hand was cold. She was silent. My mother wept.

The nurses at the hospital were kind, but soon the police came. They led my mother, unresisting, away. I called out to her, but she did not meet my eyes. They had seen the bruises. I could not live with my father, and my sister was in Heaven now. I was sent away. For failing to protect her, I was sent to Hell instead.

Girls can be cruel. They teased me for being an orphan. They said that my parents didn’t want me. They said that my mother had killed my sister. They said that she should have killed me, as well. I couldn’t disagree.

The beds in the orphanage were cold. The food was tasteless. There were no books to read. The other children invented games, as children are wont to do, and I watched them. I could not find myself. I was still on the bathroom tile, screaming. The worm burrowed deeper into my mind, my sister’s body rigid, her face with eyeless sockets and an open mouth, silently screaming. My stillness unnerved the other orphans. They let me be, when they found I did not react to the usual taunts. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

When I was old enough for swimming class at the school, I stared at the ultramarine water. It seemed as vast and endless as that porcelain ocean my sister had died in. We jumped into the water, and I let myself sink. At first, nobody noticed. I took one gushing breath of liquid in, before the lifeguard pulled me out, and forced me to expel it. I didn’t die that day, but I found myself again. Briefly. The worm went still, but my sister’s screaming face remained embedded in my dreams.

A new craving built in me, poisoning my spirit. I yearned to see my mother one more time. I built violence within my soul until I quivered with it, slicing my own skin with a piece of glass to watch the blood run. I imagined it was my mother’s throat. Vengeance drove me to eat, to sleep, to survive. Without it, I would not have lived. Perhaps that would have been best.

It took only a few quiet altercations for the other youths to learn that I was better left alone. I began carrying a knife; a tiny, easily hidden switchblade. One day I would use it on my mother. For now, it merely leant me a reputation. Girls stopped being cruel. They feared me. Until a few made the mistake of forgetting why I was feared.

It was only a matter of time, really. Until somebody learned of my past. Until a pack of cruel, taunting girls made the mistake of mentioning my sister’s death. I don’t remember what happened. One moment, they surrounded me, laughing and jeering. Then the screaming began. Somebody grabbed my wrist, forcing me to drop the bloody knife in my hand. A girl lay beneath me, bleeding from her eye and cheek. The skin had been so deeply slashed, the muscle was exposed.

I didn’t realize that I was screaming, that I had been screaming, until the other teachers wrestled me away from her. It was my sister’s name. A battle cry. A mantra. I would burn the world to bring her back. I would kill them all. That’s what I was saying, when the ambulance came. Two, actually. One for the girl I had wounded. One to take me away.

When you’re a “violent” patient, you’re treated like an animal. I paced like an angry tiger when they didn’t sedate me. When they did, I mumbled fever dreams and threats. I told them all the plans I had, I described my mother’s death. I asked for my knife. They didn’t give it to me. I told them I would kill them all and lay their corpses on my sister’s altar. They wrote down what I said, with interested expressions.

When an orderly tried to drag me into a dark closet, running his hands over my body, I didn’t scream. I tilted my head up, let my lips brush against his throat, then sank my teeth into it. I didn’t scream. He did. I took a chunk of flesh with me, his blood smearing my face like a crime scene. It sprayed from his neck and dripped down the front of my stained gown. Yes, I did it. His body’s meat was in my mouth. He didn’t come back.

There was but one solution for my incurable violence. They strapped me to the bed and shaved my head. I thrashed and struggled, spitting obscenities at them until I was gagged. They wheeled the bed into an operating room. The lights were so bright, it was like staring into the sun. I was furious. My heart beat in my ears and my body was like an overstrung bow. The surgeon put the mask over my face, and the last thing I saw before I slept, was my sister’s hollow-eyed, screaming face.

***

I woke with my arms wrapped around her, my mind blissful and hazy. I could feel her smooth locks against my cheek, feel the warmth of the blanket in the bed we shared. It was as if I were transported to my childhood, safe again with my sister.

But then I heard her voice, and it was low. Not the voice of a child at all. And I heard the static-laced voice of the man. Slowly, I truly became aware. The sharpness of my memories faded into the wandering haze of my new awareness. I wasn’t home. Nor in the hospital. My emotions, that had felt so real, were lost as the dreamscape disappeared. I was complacent again.

When the man left, the woman turned to me, gently touching my face. I realized that tears had dried on it again, and wondered why. She didn’t make me sad. She was kind.

“Do you want some breakfast?” she whispered gently, and I nodded. Carefully, she disentangled herself from my arms, helping me out of the bed. A vague unease had settled in my mind, but I could find no reason for it. The light from the lamp glowed a warm gold, like a sunny afternoon. It hurt a little, to look at it. It reminded me of a fairytale.

“Doll?” Her voice was hesitant, and I turned to face her blankly.

“My sister was a doll, once,” I said softly, not really sure what I meant. A sister? Why would I have a sister? “I don’t have a sister,” I amended, before the woman could speak. Stupid. Not making sense. No wonder the angry man didn’t want me here.

Struggling to focus, I smiled at her. She returned the smile, but it was tired and lonely when she wore it. It made me sadder than if she hadn’t smiled at all.

“We’ll have some fruit and toast,” she said, and I nodded, taking her outstretched hand. For the briefest moment, her face transformed. Maggots squirmed in the darkness of her empty eyes, her mouth torn open and fanged, screaming. I stared, but I did not flinch. The worm moved sluggishly through my brain, and the vision was gone as suddenly as it had come. I didn’t question it. It meant nothing to me.

#doll #my writing #horror elements #lich gaster #spot #voidster took a short vacation for this chapter #looks like he and doll have something in common #i wonder how he'll feel about that

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