#yeah i hope artim's makes sense

[airris-fr]

oH lore qns incoming!! Is there any form of law enforcement in the Dreampeak? What about forbidden practises? Libraries or temples or arenas? Any deity in particular that they worship? What is your clan known for/what do they specialise in? :D and for dragons: I'm curious about Tyr and Artim ;)) feel free to answer whichever you like (it's a lot of qn.s oops)ahHHh! -poop ;)

I’M GONNA ANSWER ALL THE THINGS

“Airris, that meme is too old, you can’t use tha–”

Is there any form of law enforcement in the Dreampeak?

Yes!! And no. There are official guards but they almost solely focus on the empire and Empress Marzanna! She’s unaware of the fact they aren’t serving the people as they should be because they are commanded by her mother’s adviser. He just wants to keep her safe, surely. Probably. It’s best not to worry about it. The regular layperson has to rely on the mercenary guild for protection, which has definitely helped the guild grow strong roots in the community; you wouldn’t hear it more than a whisper, but there’s a lot of people who would side with them over the empire should it come to it.

What about forbidden practises?

Officially, all the regular taboos are off-limits. No necromancy, no murder, no stealing, no fun. Buuuuuut it’s not very strictly enforced, mainly due to the reasons above. As long as it’s kept on the down low in the city, you can get away with a lot. (The Underside is an entirely other story; they are blatantly open about their disregard for the empire’s laws)

The main thing that keeps necromancy from being a problem is actually Esric. He makes The Dreampeak is a strictly BYOB (bring your own body) party; you aren’t getting one from his graveyard without suffering some severe losses yourself. And frankly, it’s a lot of effort to get a dead body into a floating city when you could just mess with it somewhere else in Sornieth, so who’s gonna bother?

Libraries or temples or arenas?

Libraries, yes!! There is a rather large archive run by Albain, it’s full of history and interesting texts. Then there is Libellum’s private library but you’re risking life or limb to access that collection.

Temples, no! Surprisingly, there are no actual temples on The Dreampeak, at least available to the general public. Instead, there are shrines in most shops, taverns, and homes dedicated to their patron deity where offerings can be made. The only true, proper temple is inside the palace, dedicated to the Plaguebringer.

Arenas, kind of? Underground fighting rings are more common than out-in-the-open gladiator arenas. Every so often a traveling show might appear in the market and hold something similar but it’s almost always just for visitors to ooh and ahh at, entirely staged and none too lethal.

Any deity in particular that they worship?

The Tidelord, The Wingsinger, the Plaguebringer, and the Arcanist are all respected on The Dreampeak and are the most commonly worshipped.

What is your clan known for/what do they specialise in?

Trading! But also mercenaries. It’s a good place to end up if you want to get into either.

Tyr

I am so glad you asked about this boy bc I totally forgot to message you and tell you!!!!! I HAVE THE LORES!!! His muse showed up right away, full of personality and charm, the second I started dressing him.

Tyr has been a troublemaker from the egg, as you know, so it wasn’t much of a surprise for him when he ended up as a prisoner of the gaolers after trying to steal from the Icewarden. Well, actually, the gaolers were a little surprising, he’ll admit, he wasn’t expecting them; a guard or two blessed by the Eleven, sure, but not… not whatever those things were supposed to be. They ignored him for the most part, in fact he barely ever saw them, but it was hard not to feel constantly hunted in the bleak, snowy ruins they kept him confined to. Worse, he felt bored. Who knew how long his sentence would be for a crime against the frozen deity?

He found himself seeking his captors, hunting instead of being hunted. They seemed to dance around him like the snowflakes that blurred his vision; they were avoiding him. He turned it into a game, constantly pursuing them, pushing them where he wanted, and a plan started to form. He was getting out of this place.

It was night when he decided to enact his plan, with the comfort of the shadows pushing him forward. It was a delicate dance but slowly, so slowly, he found himself at the edge of the ruins. The land before him was shielded by blizzards, swirling and howling without mercy. An exit, however brutal, had appeared.

It was all going to plan.

Or at least, until he locked eyes with it.

(…I think I accidentally turned this into a story halfway through oops)

Artim

(quick warning for abuse [and rape-y vibes further down, there will be a second warning], please take care and feel free to skip Artim’s lore if you need to!)

…this thing is already really, really long so I’m gonna be as brief as I can. BASICALLY, oh gosh, this is gonna take forever, uhm, basically, he started out life in a military clan, leading attacks, torturing, killing, etc. and was a favorite of the higher ranked officers but when he got injured in battle, he lost his status and rank, turning into nothing more than a glorified punching bag for trainees. He let it happen because, well, where else would he go? The clan was all he ever knew and who would take him in after the horrible things he’d done?

One day, he’d had enough. His leg ached. It hurt too much. He lashed out.

He didn’t mean to kill them.

dun dun dun duh dun stuff happens here that I haven’t figured out

TW: rape-y vibes from here forth due to an antagonist in his past

queue nightmare sequence

He would make it. He had to make it. A force slammed into his side and he heard bones snap as he fell to the ground—though he couldn’t tell if they were his own or his attacker's—, quickly followed by a kick to his side.

“I see what he meant now, you’re definitely something to look at,” The words echoed through his head but they made no sense, what did that mean? Where was Be—another kick to the side interrupted his thoughts and he groaned, pain spreading throughout his abdomen; the broken bones had been his, it seemed, “Pay attention, love, I’m still talking.”

Pressure squeezed at his broken ribs, driving them harshly into his organs as the wildclaw straddled his waist. If he noticed, he didn’t seem to care, smiling wickedly down at him, “He says you’re an awfully good lay, should we test it out?”

“Get the fuck away from me,” Artim spat before slamming his head into the man’s nose, throwing him off and stumbling to his feet. What was happening? Where was Beh—

“Now, now, Artim, there’s no need for such violence.“ 

Behellagh? 

See… he’d eventually found a place, after all, as the guard to a prince. But the prince was power hungry and it didn’t take long for someone to take advantage of that; a wildclaw, named Vhen. By the time Artim found out about Behellagh and Vhen making plans to overthrow the throne, it was too late; the attack had already begun.

Artim is nothing if not loyal. He sticks with those he loves. And god, did he love that stupid prince; was even foolish enough to think that the prince loved him back. So when they fled the castle, he followed.

Behellagh could see Vhen’s interest in his guard and more importantly he could see Artim’s loyalty to him, and so he manipulated it cruelly to further gain the wildclaw’s favor. If Behellagh told Artim to follow Vhen’s orders, who was he to argue? He was all he had.

It didn’t take long for Artim to become just a broken husk of himself.

[blurrymango]

Chapter One

The air was salty and chilled, a sign that it was finally the beginning of fall. PoisonBerry clutched the journey in bony hands. There was something strange about this day, something overwhelming that loomed over the vessel of the ship like a cloud. The net that had been cast in the water came back up slowly. The crew watched with anticipation as it breached the surface. What they had pulled up was not fish nor treasure, but a body. With long brown hair and scarring burns covering what surface wasn’t covered in decay. The raven-haired girl felt to her sick to her stomach at the scene before, the nauseating smell and sight quickly overtook her, her body unable to handle it as she passed out.

Maybe in another timeline he would have cared, but by the sticky-notes she had covered the pages of his book with, it was obvious she had no idea who he was, no respect for the grave in which his thoughts at. And in the pale moonlight that shined through the small window on the wall, he realized that, as well as having no respect for him, she had no respect for herself either. Greasy and unkept short black hair mocked anyone who knew her. She used to take pride in herself, inner and outer. Those once delicate and slender hands that could make or break beautiful creations were now callused and shaky. He looked away, not wanting to see her in that state any longer.

Whoever had shared this before had long since left, as he hoped he would as well. He would have thrown on whatever of the person’s clothes fit comfortably, though with his stature he was reduced to choosing whatever wouldn’t slide off his awkward body. He absentmindedly wondered how easily he would be able to get his muscle and fat back up, knowing that until his skin wasn’t trying to heal itself over layers of decay he wouldn’t be able go back on testosterone. He sneered at the thought, grabbing an empty satchel and putting his journal and some money in it.

He figured that if he were to stay on the ship that he would be interrogated or if he managed to play dead that the male members of the crew would likely try to, well, make use of his corpse’s more feminine parts. He shivered at the thought, unable to tell if he feared the idea or got excited by it. Either way he did not want to find out which. He briefly considered taking PoisonBerry with him, but not only did she not remember who he was but frankly she might as well be dead if she didn’t remember him. Plus, he was a stranger to her, and though she was never quite smart, she had good instincts. He had always admired that about her.

He was about to get into a raft when he heard a gun cock and felt cool metal against the back of his head. He could hear it now, the unsteady and ragged breath of the person behind him. She never really liked the sea air, her asthma would always act up, as it was now by how it sounded. He cleared his throat.

“Th-the-the o-o-cea-ocean a-ai-air-r a-ain’t g-goo- ain’t g-good f-for ya lungs-s, girl.” He hated his stutter, it made him sound scared, but, really, he wasn’t really feeling emotions right now. His legs were tired from standing, his tongue sandpaper in his mouth, and his entire body was sore and nauseated.

“‘S-s-sides, if y-y-ya k-killed me, I b-b-bet-betcha’ th-that ya c-capt-tin beat y-you f-f-for it, make ya c-clean up my bl-blood and gut-ts.” The coolness of the gun left, and he turned to face her. Her features were etched with anger and fear, though her long nose scrunched up with disgust. Maybe it was the smell. But when he looked into her eyes, she looked away. Those once bright green eyes that he had once stared into with mutual admiration and respect could now barely stand to look back at him. She was afraid.

“Just return what st-stole and you can leave.” She held out her hand for the item.

“Th-th-the b-bah-bag ain’t-t yours, b-b-babe.” He needed to get on land quickly, else he was going to throw up his guts into the sea.

“I’m talking about the journal.” She sneered at him. He could handle an angry PoisonBerry, and he knew had to act fast or do what she wants, or things would get violent.

“J-j-jus-jus’ t-t-takin’ back what’s-s m-mine br-bro.” His instincts acted and then the gun was in his hand and aimed straight at her head before she could register what happened.

“Y-y-y’know wh-what-t, s-s-s-since you s-so rude to your g-guest, you c-c-can t-take me to the Av-v-v-vante docks or y-you-you’ll get a f-fuck-fucking b-bull-let in ya s-sk-skull.” She was no longer rude.

It would have been silent if not for the gentle waves around them. Blitz was looking directly at PoisonBerry, studying the rowing girl with scrutinizing eyes. She used to be so different, she was so confident, hard-headed and energetic. She used to give off an air of easy-going superiority that made anyone relaxed. The person in front of him was merely a pitiful disgrace in her body, if there was a way to get rid of this thing that possessed her and bring back his friend, he would take any opportunity he got. He hated how different she was now, and it showed.

“So, uh-“

“Sh-sh-sut-shut the f-f-fuck up, p-pl-please. I-I-I’m n-not in the m-mood to t-t-talk.” The rest of the it was spent in grateful silence.

When the two arrived at the town, the sun had barely risen, yet society was already awake. The mere idea of waking up this early disgusted them both and angered Blitz, but that meant stores were open. Which meant food, and though the thought of eating nauseated him, he was hungry, and he knew just where to eat at.

He walked with a purpose, if anger could be considered one. It certainly would have been a sight to see, a corpse walking with a girl so skinny she was a skeleton, both wore ill-fitted clothing. Blitz loved and hated the stares he got, on one hand, it was attention and their gazes were fearful, on the other hand, it was attention, and they were afraid of him.

When the two reached their destination, a small café tucked neatly away in the city, Blitz was thankful that there weren’t much people. He gestured for PoisonBerry to sit at a booth near the counter. He knew the girl at the register, but something told him she didn’t remember him. Before he could order though, another familiar face rushed in, a vampire girl whose admittedly had much healthier looking skin than his, she ordered tea and coffee. He snorted at the order, knowing that it was not born of indecisiveness, but of an ideology that screamed ‘Life is boring so do what you want and if you end up buried alive or in jail then you did not party hard enough.’ Quite frankly a beautiful philosophy to live by.

“Y-you tr-tryna’ c-c-cure a h-hang-hangover?” He leaned against the counter. She looked over at him, shocked by his existence, and smirked, pulling out a thermos. She unscrewed the cap and held it towards him. The contents of which assaulted his sense of smell. The thermos contained a mix of honey, blood, and vodka.

“M-m-ay-maybe j-just stick to c-candles, A-Amber.” He told her.

“Either you’re a psychic or a stalker, either way I’m outta here.” She exclaimed, pronouncing ‘either’ both ways. True to her word, she gathered up her things and left. The girl behind the counter snorted.

“Next, I guess.” The dark-skinned girl said, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“U-uh, y-yeah, I-I’ll have a sl-slice of st-str-strawberry c-c-cake and a t-t-t-tea for my friend and I’ll have  a dou-double-ch-choc-double-chocolate-ch-chip cookie and uh, the sw-sweet-test coffee you have.”

The girl scribbled down the order with a bored expression, then her eyes flicked up and she smiled.

“That’ll be $14.42.” She stood straight and cleared her throat. “But if you can guess my name you’ll get a discount.” She smiled lazily. He might as well have, considering he knew, both her and her twin.

“I c-c-can tell y-ya more th-than th-th-that. A-al-also I’ll p-pay for the va-vampire’s drink t-too, consider-considering h-how sh-she l-left bef-fore she- before she could h-h-hers-self.”

She pretended to ponder it for a moment, then held out her hand for him to shake his. She slid the order through the little window leading to the kitchen.

“Y-your n-n-name i-is Ar-Arti-Artimes, you ha-have a twi-tw-twin with b-bl-blue e-eyes named Apollo, and-and! - y-y’all  are fr-friends and c-co-workers with girl n-named Ch-Char-Cha-Charlotte C-Cooke!” She stared at his grinning face with wide eyes.

“Go sit with your friend, your order will be out shortly.” He smiled at her, setting down $9 and going to sit with PoisonBerry.

“Wha-what are you, like, a stalker or somethin’?” She asked with bewilderment. All she got for a response was a small hum.

“Like, how do you know so much?” She rephrased. He leaned over the table at her and spoke in a low tone.

“I-I’m a g-god.” He leaned back up. “A-anyway, af-aft-ter this I f-figured we sh-should g-go v-v-visit an old f-f-friend.”

“Or maybe we should make you go get a haircut because it covers your face.” She said back. He let out a chuckle and a small glare.

A girl with skin the color of cookie dough and caramel-colored curly locks of hair walked over to them, carrying their breakfast. Charlotte Cooke, the love of his life from before death, still looked as angelic as ever. She nodded her head along with whatever was playing in her head-phones and smiled at him as she set down their food. He clumsily searched his bag for some money to tip her with.

“Well, thank you sir!” Her soft voice was music to him.

“H-h-have a n-nice d-day!” He said as walked away. The two ate in silence, PoisonBerry giving him weird looks the whole time. They finished up and left.

“Alright-t, s-s-so, I a-ain’t g-gon-na-na get my h-hair c-cut in p-p-public p-plac-ce.” He said to her as they walked down the gravel roads.

“What, so, you gonna cut it yourself?” She asked as they turned a corner. He didn’t respond, in fact, the walk continued in silence until they reached a point where gravel turned to dirt and buildings turned to trees.

“Where are you taking me?” Her curiosity was starting to turn into unease. She started wondering how much she could trust this guy. Minutes went by with no answer as Blitz lead her down a twisting path that lead to nowhere. She asked him again and he responded with aggression in his stance and an off-putting calmness in his words.

“Y-you cl-clearly aren’t c-c-com-comfortable ‘round me, y-yet you con-continue foll-follow what I s-say. I d-don’t need-need you at this point, a-at th-th-this-s pl-plac-ce.” He turned to face her, and even though his face was visible, it still just as unreadable. “Th-th-there is n-no more g-gun t-to your head-d,” he spread his arms out “and there is n-no g-g-gun in-in my h-h-hand. Ther-the-there’s n-n-noth-thing stop-stopping you fr-from-from leaving.” She looked away, hugging herself with boney arms.

“I got nothin’ to go back to if I leave.”

“D-damned if you d-do, damn-damned if you don’t. Y-you’ve go-got-t-ten this f-far, c-contin-continue, o-or not, it’s-s your ch-choice, I d-d-don’t ca-care.” He continued down the trail, and against her better judgement, she followed behind, like a dog on a leash.

The house was exactly as he remembered it. It towered over the trees and to those unfamiliar with it, they would lose more than just their path. He always loved this place, and it loves him. He could spend eternity wandering its’ halls. His house lifeless, like he had been. Yet there was someone in there. He barged in, ready to tear the place to shreds with his bare hands to find them, to find this intruder and remove them from his home like a parasite from a praying mantis. Yet there was no need to, the person was right there.

“Oh, I thought you’d be home sooner.” With pale, cubby cheeks, red eyes, and long straight blue hair, Sundae had not changed one bit. And judging by the barking corgi that squeezed through her legs to lick him, neither Sundae nor Butterscotch had forgotten him. He picked up the Brit and spun her around, the two laughing like children. Butterscotch yipped happily. He put her down, cleared his throat, and told her what he already knew.

“Blitz, trust me, I’ve been keeping tabs on our dear friends, and I know how to get their memories back. Except,” She gestured to a confused PoisonBerry, “she’s been at sea.” She walked over to the green-eyed girl and took her angular face between her hands. “Plus, she’s changed the most. Whatever made her how she was, was purely thanks to you. She’ll be the hardest to restore. But, we’ll also need her for Midnight.” She lead the two into the house.

“W-w-well, h-how we g-gonna do it?” He asked her, hands in his pockets. A thought struck him then. One that shook him to his core. Had his brother forgotten him? Did his sister forget him? His head was clouded, his ears rang, and nausea consumed him.

“Blitz!” Sundae caught him before he fell. She looked to PoisonBerry. “Well come on then, help me out here.” The raven-haired girl hurried to them.

“What’s wrong with him?” She asked frantically. Sundae simply looked at her. “Is-is he having a stroke?”

“What- No. He, he’ll be fine, he just passed out.”

Blitz woke up a day later. Nausea filled his head and couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, he was numb and in pain all at once. He tried to scream, yet all that came out was blood and bile. He managed to lean over when he threw up. He knew it might be getting on his carpet, but at the moment he didn’t care. After emptying the contents of his stomach and lungs, he regained his senses a bit. His head pounded, and his body felt like it was on fire. He stumbled out of bed, thankfully not stepping in vomit, and limped to the bathroom. He fumbled around the mirror cabinet until he found his meds. He swallowed them along a mouthful of sink water. The room smelled like death, he smelled like death. He tore off the stolen clothes, grimacing when pieces of flesh went with it. He noticed now how his hair was in such a bad state. The brown locks were greasy, tangled, and covered his face. His skin, normally just pale and scarred, was covered patched of green and yellow rot.  He stumbled to his bathtub, turning the faucet on scorching hot and dumping an entire bottle of soap in it. He got in and dunked his head under, too. He felt his hand around the floor and found scissors and a comb. With shaky hand he began to cut and comb his hair. By this point the tub was beginning to overflow, but he didn’t care because there was a drain beneath it. Then he bathed himself. He scrubbed until the blistered. He didn’t want to leave this heavenly scorching heat, but the feeling of unease made him leave.  He turned the water off, unplugged the drain and went to the mirror. Eyebags, chapped lips, and a big nose greeted him. One eye was icy blue while the other nearly blind. His teeth were yellow and uneven, but he didn’t care as long he had them. He scowled at his reflection and left.

He combed his fingers through freshly cut hair while trying to recall the events of the past, what, day? He’d never been good at keeping track of time. He put on some baggy dark clothes and taking the vomit filled bucket, opened his window and dumped the bile out. Satisfied, he went to his desk and opened his journal. He scowled at the sticky-notes and carefully peeled them off the pages and threw them away. He flipped to a blank page and began writing.

Either he blacked out or zoned because when he opened his eyes the room was filled with the warm glow of the afternoon. He stretched his hands over his head and his stomach growled under his sweater. He groaned as he left the room. When he got to the dining room with a box of cereal, he saw Sundae surrounded by pictures and papers. He spotted his camera on the table, a cheap little thing he bought with what little money he had when he was a kid. His most prized possession, and Sundae kept it. He was overjoyed until she spoke.

“Blitz! I know who we’ll bring back first.” The black-clothed girl had only just noticed he was there. She picked up a photo of two girls dancing together under the un, not a care in the world. He remembered that day, he and Luci, a werewolf girl, had met Amber. He took the picture when the two were dancing to some upbeat jazz song that came on his radio.

“Wh-which one? He asked, hoping it would be Amber, as she might be easiest to find.

“Why not both? I know where they live.” Oh right, Blitz forgot she’d been stalking their friends while he was dead. This would be easy, they could get most of them done in a day. He gathered the materials they’d need, got PoisonBerry, and set off in a carriage to town.

Amber had a small apartment full of takeout boxes and unlit candles everywhere. The place was a mess and Blitz almost felt bad until he remembered that when he first met her she had been living in a doomsday bunker under a field. The curtains were closed, and the place was dusty and smelled like blood. Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind them and the candles were lit. A figure cloaked in shadows stared them down with glowing red eyes.

“A stalker you are, you should have stayed watching from afar.” Amber stepped into the dim light. PoisonBerry hid behind Sundae who stood straight-faced with her arms crossed. Blitz stepped forward, and of all the scents in the room, there was no cinnamon. The one missing was in his satchel. He pulled it out with a box of matches. He lit the candle right as the vampire struck. Fangs almost in his neck, she went limp in his arms and the light became blinding.

When their eyesight came back to them, they were under the warmth of the sun. Tendrils pure light came from the vampire’s chest. And with a burst of light, she awoke in his arms as the sun set. She let out a breathy laugh as she looked up at Blitz’s bewildered face. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed his cheek.

“Good ta’ see ya again, amigo.” She looked around and hurriedly sat up. “Where is our wolf?” She looked to him. Sundae cleared her throat and dusted herself off, leaving a shocked PoisonBerry laying in the grass.

“Your friend is in the circus, and the circus will be in town quite soon, just in time for the full moon. And since she joined recently, they have no idea.” She spoke

“S-so, what, she g-gets t-ta’ t-t-town, and w-wolf’s-wolf’s out t-to pl-play. A-and b-b-boom, j-just like-just like th-that, e’eryone’s-s d-dead.”

“Yep. So, if we don’t want a massacre on our hands, we gotta get her back quick.” Sundae stated.

When they got back home, Sundae and PoisonBerry started cooking, and Blitz and Amber started planning.

“So, as a wolf, they ain’t gonna be able to contain her. She’ll escape and look for a place where she can alone.”

“R-right, s-so we gotta-gotta he-her.”

“Do we got anything that’ll do anything like that.” Amber asked him.

Blitz went to his closet and pulled out a long chain.

“That’ll work.”

That night Blitz didn’t sleep. He thought of all that could go wrong and of his brother and sister. He had no idea if they remembered him, if they even still alive. Though he hated it, he was human, and humans feared the unknown. If his brother continued down his path of assassination, Blitz had no of knowing. Eventually, he gave up on sleep and decided to write instead.

He soon found that writing was a great way to pass the time when he heard birds chirping. Yet, right when he was going to leave the room, his body shut down. When he awoke it was obvious that his surroundings were not based in reality. The grass was a deep red, and thorny vines strangled anything that wasn’t grass. The sky was pitch black, yet in the great nothingness it seemed to all flow towards a single point. He followed the hypnotic movement of the inky nothing, each step calming and his movements languid and heavy. Eventually he found it, or rather, himself. The picture perfect of image of a younger version of him surrounded by sunflowers.

“Why, why do you put them through this? All you do causes them to suffer.” He scowled at the child, it’s voice alien and unnerving to him, its words dripping with poison. He stalked toward the child, it’s hair a blonde and tangled halo that he wanted to rip out.

“I don’t recall even speaking at such an age, child.”  He hissed, circling around it, ignoring how weird his voice sounded. “Why is it that you’ve summoned me back to the realm make-believe? To gloat about your pureness, your virginity and innocence? That won’t last you very long, you know?” His voice echoed in the small infinity.

“Nothing I do will lead me to becoming you.” It sneered at him.

“And yet, here I am, all you are is a reminder of the purity I lost, the innocence that got stolen from me.” The world vibrated and shook with every word he spoke, the sky melting into the ground, leaving an inky void everywhere. “I hate dreaming, y’know. And you, we, I hate being alone. And my friends keep me from loneliness, and you’re keeping me from my friends.” The last thing he saw was that child’s damn face, mocking him, and contorted in fear. It was an ugly sight, one he was glad to leave. Though when he came back to the real world, there was an overwhelming urge to leave. He wanted to leave. The thought had not yet crossed his mind before now, and it sickened him. Leaving meant all of his progress would be wasted. Leaving meant abandoning his friends. All those forgotten memories, wasted. Yet, he knew he would prefer for them not to know. As he packed his bag, every fiber of him screamed at him not to leave. He found himself unable to scream back. He left his home behind him, a weight lifted off his shoulders and a sickness in his gut. No one knew he was leaving. Except for PoisonBerry, who followed close behind him like a dog.

He took the long way to the docks on purpose, not wanting to go through the sunflower field. A small voice in his head told him wouldn’t be able to avoid it for long. He never could. When he got to the docks, the voice screamed at him to go back. The pirate ship he had left was there, crew members guarding his only escape. He heard a whimper behind him. Of course she was here, of course she followed him, she always did and now she was going to die. He tried to hide her in the forest edge, but it was too late. The captain, who he faintly recognized as PoisonBerry’s sister, spotted them. She called out to them, forcing them to step onto the docks, and right into their clutches.

“Well, ain’t this an odd sight, a corpse and skeleton.” The blonde walked to the pair, crew following behind. Their weapons were drawn and there was murder in their eyes. Frankly, Blitz was unaffected. It all happened so suddenly, one minute they were staring the others down, the next they were in a crate, being thrown into the ocean. Water was filling the space as they sunk. PoisonBerry was panicking, pleading, screaming tothe gods to save her. The only answer she received was the rush of water.

“Pray-prayer is f-f-futile, the-th-the gods-s are f-f-forbidd-den to answ-swer. W-we are al-l-lone in oc-cean and th-they m-might a-as w-well be d-d-dead to- to us.” His voice shook with irritation and his body shook with fear.

“This—This is all your fault! I’m going to die and it’s all thanks to you!” She screamed with rage. Hands flew to her mouth.

“Y-you’re the o-o-one who f-f-fucking f-followed m-me.” There was a shift in the pitch, he could see her eyes.

“You held a gun to my head!” Brighter. “You made me leave with nothing but the clothes on my back.” He could see tears now, glowing, angry tears. “And even when you did give me a choice, my only options were you or being lost and alone!” Brighter still, he could see everything in the box. “I-I chose—I chose you.” The green light became blinding, his ears rang, and his head ached, yet he didn’t look away.

“Welcome home, Nat-Natalie.” He whispered and closed his eyes. He felt bony arms around him, wetness forming on his sweater and sobbing in his ears. He cried too and clung to his friend like a child. “Y-you’re back—you—you’re back. You’re c-come back—come back to—to me!” They held each other tightly as if either one were to let go, the other would fade away. She pulled back from him.

“Midnight! We—we gotta get Midnight!” She stood up. He looked around, sunflowers surrounded them, and they stared only at him, judging, mocking. He closed his eyes.

“I-I g-guess Amb-ber and S-sundae got—got Luc-ci handled.”

The shewolf snarled in her cage as people began surrounding it. They took pictures and laughed at the beast. In the crowd came a loud noise. It progressively got louder as people started clearing away. Amber walked to the cage and placed the trumpet down. The wolf growled at her.

“They got cha’ caged up like some type o’ beast, huh.” She reached her hand into the cage and opened it. The wolf put her paw on the human’s hand.

On the other side of town Blitz and PoisonBerry dragged a blonde girl up a cliff. She was tied up and screaming muffled cusses and curses through the improvised gag. They made it to the top where the ritual was waiting. Blitz waited with the now panicked girl as PoisonBerry picked up a leather-bound book. Blitz shoved Midnight, the blonde, into the circle of mushrooms.

“Fe lat me hahn se fuite nam!”

The circle burned with a bright light and the witch was restored. The ropes had been burned off and Midnight stood. The lovers locked eyes.

“PoisonBerry?” She asked, her accent thick with emotion. Tears welled up in their eyes as PoisonBerry ran to her shorter counterpart. They fell to the ground, holding each other tightly and whispering to each other in their native languages.

Blitz watched on, breathless. It was like he had been a man dying of thirst, seeing this scene of two soulmates coming together was like gulping down water. It hurt like hell going down, yet the refreshing cold numbed it, making him forget everything else, if only for a second. He felt around his scarred neck for a piece of worn string. He found it and clutched the two rings tightly.

He once wrote in his journal about their dynamic. “Visually, they’re opposites. PoisonBerry is tall and almost concerningly thin, with eyes angled in a permanent scowl, pointed ears and nose and a sharp and angular jaw. Her body is boney and pale, her nails bitten down to the nub. (likely a habit she picked up from Blitzs brother) Midnight on the other hand, is short and curvy, with tanned skin. (Blitz’s brother would say she’s “thick”) Her jaw is square with an upturned nose. Her eyes are big and squared off, eyes burning with a bright orange-red flame that held so much passion. So, soft curves and boxy features stood in high contrast with angular and cat-like sharp features. They dress differently as well, yet both seem to have a strong preference for stripes. Midnight wears a lot of black high-waisted skirts and shorts, with flowing short-sleeved shirts, black and blue being her main colors. PoisonBerry wears mostly tight-fitting dresses and sleeved cloaks, blacks, reds, and purples dominated her choice of color, with the occasional splash of green. Visually, they’re opposites, but they’re both filled with a passion for life that I could never hope to have.” (frankly, he used to be jealous of that when he was little, now he doesn’t feel much about it)

When the three of them got back to the house they were met with a vampire, a werewolf, a demon, and an invitation to a masquerade. The group said their hellos and discussed dinner plans. (Lucy glared at Midnight the entire time, silently nodding along to the conversation) Blitz pointed out the moon hanging above and made them agree to have a big breakfast in the morning. While everyone else slept, Blitz fought to keep his closed. The invite they had gotten left a bad taste in his mouth. The invite had been handwritten in a script that he could barely read, fancy lettering with unnecessary loops and curves, but he knew exactly who wrote it. The invite was from his half-sister, somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if his brother had gotten an invite too. He really hoped not, their half-sister had put them through hell when they were kids, leaving them with invisible scars and (thankfully only on Blitz) actual scars too. So, for her to even think for a second that Ty would go was idiotic. He sat up in his bed, wanting to vent his anger out. He opened his curtains to let the moonlight in, lit a candle, and went to his desk. He opened a drawer, one full of gears and nuts and bolts and other bits and scraps he collected over the years. He set some of them on the desk, stared at them for a bit, hoping inspiration would come, then put them back. He opened another drawer and took out his journal. (he had made it when he was very into book-binding, plenty of pages that could act as whatever he wanted) He started taking an account of all that happened since he last wrote. He loved writing, it was a good way to clear his head and keep track of important and not-so-important details that he would surely forget otherwise. It was a way to escape reality, if only for a sec. And this time, escapism worked well, because before he knew it the sun was rising, his candle had melted into a pool of wax and there was knocking at his door. Sundae entered and then gagged.

“Smells like rot in here.”

He turned his chair towards her and lifted his bare arm, covered in varying levels of decay and scars, then gestured to himself, in a similar state.

“S-s-sund-dae, my-my b-body’s m-m-m-mending, it w-won’t- it’s-s gon-gonna t-take awhi-whil-le t-till it’s heal-healed.”

Sundae hummed and stepped in, closing the door behind her.

“Seems as though we’re the only ones awake, well, Amber might be, but who knows with that girl.” Sundae told him. Blitz made a gesture that said ‘well, you know her.’ Sundae hummed in agreement, leaning against the wall where the sun illuminated her features, giving her an almost angelic glow. Ironic, considering the two rather prominent dark red horns sticking from her forehead.

���Y’know, I found PoisonBerry and Midnight curled up together, making up for lost time, I suppose.” They laughed quietly to each other. (Blitz’s ended with a rather nasty cough) He walked to his dresser and took some dark colored clothes from the pile next to it. A quick sniff determined they smelled better than he did. He was buttoning up his shirt when it hit him.

“The-the i-i-inv-v-vite, M-mint s-s-sent-t it h-here, t-to us—to y-you! Sh-she re-rem-rem—she—she kn-knows you.” He curled up into himself. “Sh-she remem-remembers wh-who we are.” He whispered.

Sundae approached him carefully, acting as though he were a wild animal. He knew it was unintentional, but when the look in her eyes went from friendly to cautious, it stung.

“Blitz, relax, you’ll be ok. If anything happens, I promise it won’t happen to you.” She was trying so hard to be comforting, but in his mind, that promise was empty, it twisted like a viper in his thoughts, mocking and tormenting and cruel and manipulating. He knew it wasn’t, Sundae has always been his most trustworthy friend, but he couldn’t help it.

Slowly they stood together, and with shaky hands, he got dressed, slowly, but still.

They eventually got everyone up and ready. (PoisonBerry made the process more difficult than needed, but still) Blitz suggested they go to Pepper’s café. The walk there was peaceful aside from Blitz’s occasional coughing fits. As the group was walking in, someone walked out. The person rudely bumped shoulders with Amber, calling her a deadbeat lawyer. Blitz saw red. He told the group to go head inside and order. Reluctantly, they agreed. (though PoisonBerry sensed a fight and wanted to join, Midnight glared her down till she went with the rest of the group) He glared at the stranger. The person was, to put it simply, jacked. He had at least a head on Blitz, then again, most people did. (stunted growth along with being biologically female will make you shorter than most other guys) To anyone else, the person seemed to have the upper hand, but Blitz wasn’t planning to fight. He shoved his hands in his pockets and snarled at the stranger.

“I-if we were-weren’t-t i-in p-publi-lic I-I’d b-beh-head you.” The person snorted with laughter in response and Blitz lost control. He lunged at the stranger, his mind far away while his body acted on its own. He felt familiar arms wrap around him, pulling him back. The stranger’s face was a bloody mess. Taking one final look at Blitz, the stranger ran.

“Sir,” he looked up at the voice, and stared into aqua eyes. “I don’t tolerate violence at my establishment.”

“Sorry about him, he’s” He looked at Sundae, her hands in her coat pockets and her eyes filled with shame and embarrassment.

He pushed himself from Pepper’s grip and looked at her. Concern and anger were etched into her features. He dug around his jacket pocket and pulled out two necklaces that were tangled around his fingers. He opened his hand, palm facing down, and the sun and moon pendants glittered in the sunlight. He took Pepper’s hand and placed the necklaces in her palm.

“I-I—uh—h-hope this—th-this m-makes up f-for—for wh-what I-I’ve d-d-one.” He disconnected his hand from hers and nodded towards the door. He and Sundae walked in and sat down at the booth with the others.

“S-s-so, you-you’re law-l-lawyer?” He asked Amber, to get rid of the silence. She laughed, and time seemed to move again.

“Yeah dude, a good one, at that!”

“So, like, is candle-making a hobby or somethin’?” PoisonBerry asked, confused by the new information.

“I think she became a lawyer when her memories were false.” Midnight interjected. The conversation continued while Blitz and Luci stayed silent. Well, at least he was paying attention, Luci was chewing on the napkins. C.C. arrived with their food and drinks and Blitz locked eyes with her. He swore he saw some of recognition there. She smiled at him as she left, and he smiled back.  He saw Pepper rush into the kitchen while they ate. He didn’t expect her or her twin to get their memories back for quite a while, as even when he came back from the dead the first time it took a while for them to remember.

Then the bell jingled, and a lady came in who was obviously trying to conceal her identity, yet even with sunglasses and a hat, he knew who she was. He could smell not only the fear and anxiety radiating off her, but also the faint stench of sulfur. Her name was Lola Viper, and in her hand she held an invitation.