#but ahe starts to glow from her patterns like she's taking that power fully

[justadaddysboy]

Do you think he was able to give her his soul because of her demon heritage?

sword bf 💜⚔️

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Seek a Little Strange and Unusual

Fandom: Psychonauts Pairing: None Characters: Caligosto Loboto, Chloe Barge Summary: One day at the grocery store, Loboto overhears two parents discussing their...problem child. It's a very familiar sounding conversation. He may not understand why, but he won't let history repeat itself. Chloe isn't particularly fond of her human caretakers. The dentist who smuggled her out of the store is strange...but so is she. And he, at least, understands the importance of space helmets on alien planets.

[don’t make tumblr funnyposts about headcanons guys because you WILL become attached to them]

Cucumbers, lighter fluid, toothpaste, apple sauce, quick rise yeast, mineral oil...

Almost everything! All that was left was condiments. Except...had he written ketchup, or catsup? Did it matter? Of course it mattered, they were totally different things! Weren't they? Well, they had different names.

Lobot stared between the bottle of catsup and the scribbled list, trying to read his own handwriting.

"No, no! Put it down--Chloe put that down right now." 

Ooooh, drama! He loved drama. Loboto poked his head around the corner of the aisle in time to see a small child standing on their tiptoes, arms outstretched to the cereal boxes on the upper shelf. A brightly colored box of sugar pretending to be a nutritious breakfast was wrapped in a purple glow and descending, slowly. 

A woman materialized next to the girl. Her face was tight with anger and she snatched the box out of the air. Shoving it back on the shelf she hissed "What did I tell you? How many times do I have to say it, Chloe! Don't do that! Especially not in public! And I told you take that stupid helmet off when we're in the store!"

The child's response was unintelligible, muffled by the space helmet they were indeed wearing. He wondered what the big deal was. It wasn't the 1940's; nobody cared if you wore a hat in public anymore. Just look at him! He was wearing his showercap and no one had said a word! They just left the aisle as soon as they saw him.

“Take it off, now!” 

A man appeared and grabbed the woman's arm.

"Keep your voice down, people are going to come see what the fuss is."

The woman rounded on him, her expression one of frantic desperation. 

"I can't do this anymore."

I just don’t care anymore.

"I can't deal with this, the helmet and the moving things around--!"

He’s a monster!

"I know, I know--"

Soon we’ll be free of this devil child.

"I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this! If I have to deal with one more dismantled radio, one more time trying to get her to take it off for company, one more bent spoon--"

Every! Spoon! Bent!

"I've been asking around, and Johnson knows someone who can do a procedure that’ll fix her--"

They all agree on the diagnosis and what must be done.

He felt strange. Cold and hot and angry and...sad. The child didn't seem to notice the conversation. She was trying to float the cereal box back down again. She probably didn't understand what it all meant. She was young. Very young.

Younger than he had been.

He hadn't understood either, until it was too late.

The humans were arguing again. They were always arguing these days. Arguing about such petty problems, when they could be focusing on the whole galaxy around them. She ignored them. It wasn't like they listened to her anyway. How many times had she explained to the woman why she needed to wear the helmet whenever she left the hermetic seal of her room? It never mattered. 

The box of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs landed gently in her hands. Excellent. She would slide it into the cart under the frozen peas. By the time they got to the cash register, the woman would be bound by social convention to make the purchase, or risk making a scene in front of the cashier.

Chloe still hadn't figured out what making a scene meant. The term was definitely in regards to public behavior, but was applied to anything from yelling in public to silent refusal to remove her helmet. Human rules were so strange and arbitrary.

The boxes in front of her rustled. Chloe tilted her head to one side. Odd. Sometimes things around her moved on their own, but usually she got that strange tingle in the back of her head when they did. She wasn't feeling it now.

The boxes of cereal parted, excess tumbling off the ends of the shelves. Two small lights gleamed in the newly made gap. One red, one green.

A metal claw shot out, grabbed Chloe by the shirt, and hauled her through.

She had half been expecting to be pulled into another dimension, but instead she was just in the next aisle. There was no time to feel disappointed before she was dumped unceremoniously in a grocery cart. Someone loomed over her, but Chloe only got the impression of blue skin and flowers before the stranger scooped up half a shelf's worth of bags of macaroni and dumped them on top of her.

It didn't hurt. She could breathe fine with her helmet protecting her face--see, she wanted to say, I told you I needed it--but she couldn't move very much. The cart rattled and bumped, one wheel squeaking obnoxiously. They paused briefly, and Chloe considered shouting for help, but didn't. She wanted to see where this was going.

So she stayed quiet and still, holding the box of cereal to her chest as a cheerful voice cried "No need to do your beeping scans! I know what I bought! Keep the change!"

Then they were off again. The sounds around her changed as they left the store and rattle bumped their way through the parking lot. She heard a trunk open up, and decided now was a good time to figure out what was going on. She had no interest in riding with the groceries.

Chloe made the purple glow around her hands and pushed until the groceries around her lifted enough for her to move. She popped out from beneath the macaroni like a beach ball being released underwater.

The stranger was. Strange. Very tall. The lights Chloe had seen were his eyes--or rather, small tubes where his eyes should be. They twitched and turned independently of each other. He was smiling at her, and his smile seemed to stretch much, much further than most human smiles.

He was wearing a labcoat and a shower cap.

"Hello!" he said. "I'm going to kidnap you and raise you as my own so your parents can't stick an icepick in your brain to take away your psychic powers!" He tapped his chin, brow furrowing. One of his arms was made of metal, and ended in three claws. "Although I already did that first part, so...I have kidnapped you and am going to raise you as my own so that your parents can't stick an icepick in your brain to take away your psychic powers!"

Chloe considered this with some alarm. She didn't know what an icepick was, but she was sure she didn't want anything stuck in her brain. Psychic powers? Ah. That would explain the purple glow. Her caretakers had been very frustrated by it. But could she believe that they would stick things in her brain just so they could be less frustrated?

Yes. She could believe.

Her chest hurt. The macaroni was heavier than she first thought.

"Will you let me wear my helmet?" she asked.

"Of course!" He patted his showercap. "Headwear is a very important personal choice!

Chloe thought some more.

"This is acceptable," she said, and lifted her arms. The stranger stared at her. Neither of them moved for several seconds.

"What are you doing."

"You need to lift me up."

The stranger stuck his hands under her armpits and did so, holding his arms fully extended out in front of him. She dangled in the air, up, up, so high up, higher than she'd ever managed on a swing, and without the heavy weight of rope and swing seat to remind her she was pinned to this mudball planet. She felt weightless, floating, a dizzyingly wonderful feeling.

They stayed like that for several moments.

"Is this what parenting is?" the stranger asked. "It's a lot easier than they made it sound."

Chloe was so high up, her vision extended over the sea of cars, and she spotted her caretakers--former caretakers--rushing out of the grocery store, looking around wildly.

"Put me down," she said. She would have liked to stay up there for longer. For hours. Maybe she could get him to do it again later. The man used to do it all the time, before the arguing started. The stranger set her feet on the pavement, and began to toss the cart's contents into the trunk without any care for fragility. He did not seem particularly rushed or concerned, for all that he said he was kidnapping her. And wasn't kidnapping illegal?

The car was nothing like the sleek blue sedan her parents drove. The man washed it obsessively, and acted as if you had removed an organ if you so much as borrowed a single sparkplug, even if the project was important.

Not only did this car look as if it hadn't been washed, ever, it also looked like it might dissolve if you tried. It was mostly rust held together by duct tape. The car was decorated in strange patterns picked out by objects hot glued to the sides: rubber ducks, dice, plastic flowers, and many, many teeth. From the looks of it, mostly Odocoileus virginianus and Procyon lotor, although she had to wonder about some of the molars.  

"Chloe!" someone shouted. "Chloe, where are you!"

Chloe opened the door of the car and climbed inside. There was a moldy grey blanket on the car seat. She unfolded it and draped it over herself. It smelled like seaweed and toothpaste. She tried to look as much like a non-child lump as she could.

The trunk closed. Through the thin blanket she saw the shadow of the stranger--her new caretaker--lean over her. He wound all three seatbelts across her, pinning her to the seat.

"Safety first!" he said.

The car's engine whined and groaned and the calls got closer. They wouldn't be able to see her under the blanket. She was hidden. It was safe.

All the same, she felt a rush of relief when the engine finally growled to life. The car shot backwards and then came to an abrupt halt with a crash and the tinkle of glass. The seatbelts held her so fast Chloe didn't even move.

"Whoopsie!" the man said. The car lurched forwards and came to another abrupt halt with another crash. "Sorry!" Forward. Smash. "Oopsie daisy!" Back. Crash. "Almost got it!"

This time when the car sped forward, it did not stop, although Chloe did hear a scream and a bump as they turned a sharp corner.

"There we go!"

Chloe waited a few more minutes before working her arms free and pulling the blanket down from over her helmet. The car was zipping down the road, swerving violently between the other cars. In the space of three minutes they shot through two red lights. Her new caretaker was humming an offkey ditty to himself, as if he was taking a casual stroll through the park.

"Who are you?" Chloe asked.

"I am Dr Calligosto Loboto! The greatest dentist in the world!" He threw out an arm dramatically and his claws punctured the roof of the car. She could see many similar holes clustered in the same area.

"My name is Chloe. I hail from the planet Cygnus A."

"Ooooh, you're an alien! That explains the helmet! You better keep that thing on, I don't want you suffocating in our atmosphere!"

Chloe couldn't name the feeling in her chest, except that it was a good one.

"That's what I kept telling them! Just because I can breathe your air doesn't mean it doesn't have a detrimental effect on my lungs!"

"Of course!" the doctor said, genuinely annoyed. "That's Alien 101! Boy, your parents are weird."

"They aren't my parents," Chloe said, firmly. "They're my human caretakers. They were looking after me while I'm on the planet. Someday my real parents will return for me, and take me back to the home planet."

"Makes sense to me! I wonder if that makes this less of a felony."

[burning-clutch]

Shielded From The Truth

Cross posted on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30441042 -.-.-.-.- Warnings: Mild wounds. Number two in the phic phight! When his parents put a shield up around Casper high to keep the ghosts out, and it means that Danny’s day hardly goes to plan. And he was so close to being on time for once too…. PHIC PHIGHT 2021 For team ghost! -.-.-.-.-.- Prompt by: Silverwing013 Danny's parents have kindly offered to set up a ghost shield generator for Casper High. Hijinks ensue as Danny attempts to handle the situation. 

-.-.-.-.-.-

Danny groaned as he only half listened to his parents rattle off whatever ghost nonsense they were going on about as he ate his breakfast. A bowl of dry cereal because the milk was contaminated and he really didn’t want to chance it giving him more than a stomach ache. This had become the norm this week it seemed as his parents seemed invested more than usual into the ghost shields that they had been working on and improving.

Why only shields? They would be installing one in the school soon… but beyond that? He wasn’t sure. They probably told him, sure, but being a teenager and one that had parents that hated half of him, had the effect of making him only lightly listen to the weapons and things that were meant to fully kill him off. That and at least the ghost shields weren’t usually a hindrance to him, in fact, they had proven themselves useful on a few occasions.

Plus he had the added advantage of being able to simply return to his human form and slip through the shield with little issue. Given his parents had no knowledge of half ghosts existing, at least he hoped not, they shouldn’t be designing a ghost and human shield. After all, that would defeat the purpose, right? It wasn’t as if Amity really had any human threats anymore.

Well, regardless of the eccentricities of his parents he could at least take some comfort in the fact that Skulker couldn’t simply attack the school to get to him any longer.

Small mercies he supposed.

Danny blinked as his father said something to him before slapping him on his back causing the teen to practically choke on his cereal from the force of the smack. “Isn’t that just great Dann-o?” the large man exclaimed happily before looking at his son expectantly. Oh great, he wanted him to ask something? Great.

“S-Sure” Danny choked out as he flailed, grabbing in front of him for the orange juice he had nabbed from the fridge, it thankfully hadn’t been in there long enough to start glowing… yet…

He shook his head as he finally got his breath back without inhaling dry cereal pieces into his lungs. When he was sure he wasn’t going to sound like some dollar store squeaky toy he tried to ask his parents a question, always a dreadful time if he were honest, but hey, he would usually be late for school anyway.

“So this will go around the whole school?” Danny tried weakly.

“Yep! And the best part is it’ll sense where there's an evil ectoplasmic entity nearby and spring up instantly! We made sure there won’t be a ghost within Twenty feet of the school before that puppy jumps up to the rescue! Like a big Fenton airbag!” Jack exclaimed all too enthusiastically for what the current time in the AM should allow a normal person to exhume.

Danny hummed noncommittally and sent a glance of ‘help me’ to his sister, who, in turn, rolled her eyes at her little brother. “And the shield even uses the ghost’s power to run the shield right?” Jazz asked side eyeing her father from her own spot not wanting to fully engage in the conversation they were having.

“Oh, yea! That’s the best part!” Jack practically cheered out.

“And the stronger the evil skum is the faster the shield will react and sooner it will be picked up. It will only go off on a level three or higher.” Maddie explained with a pleasant smile as she sips at her coffee.

“And we got it all finished last night to be ready for you kids today” Jack added happily.

“Hooray, more fun on a Monday” Danny sighed out into his last bites of cereal. Jazz snorted but didn’t comment, though Danny blew her a childish raspberry.

Jack continued to go on about the more intricate details of the shield they had put up though only one thing really caught his attention in the spiel, “-And Vladdie helped with the funding to outfit the school! Even helped us get the materials we needed to make such a large shield!”

“Ah, there it is…” Danny groaned letting his head fall forward onto the table in instant defeat.

“Danny! I really wish you would learn not to stay up so late playing video games! Look at you! If I get another call from one of your teachers about you sleeping in class-” Maddie started only for Danny to cut her off jumping to his feet.

“Yep! Thanks for that, mom! Look at the time! Love you bye!” Danny prattled off quick as could be before grabbing his book bag by his feet and bolting like a scared rabbit. After all, if his mother never finished that sentence when he inevitably fell asleep he couldn’t be grounded… she never officially gave him the last warning…

That’ll work, right?

It wasn’t long when he was out of the house that he was at his usual waiting spot for Sam and Tucker. Unsurprisingly, Sam got there first though they didn't have to wait long for Tucker to lumber forward, half asleep to his friends, and together they made their way towards the school as a unit.

Things seemed well enough until he got onto the stairs leading up to the main doors. That was when all hell broke loose. A deep alarm sounded before his father’s voice rang out from the speakers, in his over the top cheery way that only Jack Fenton knew how to pull off.

“Attention kids! Guess there’s an evil spook nearby so we’re deploying the shield! This ghost protection was brought to you by Fenton-works and sponsored by your mayor!”

Danny frowned. “My ghost sense didn’t go off…” He mentioned quietly to his friends.

“Maybe the shield sensors are more sensitive than you are?” Tucker asked with a frown.

“Since when?” Sam argued incredulously.

“Well who or whatever it is, it isn’t bothering me right now and no one’s screaming, no one’s panicking, so it can wait. I’m actually going to be on time for once!” Danny says waving the notion off.

He continues his trek up the stairs and towards the doors of the school, though when he reaches the threshold of the shield he finds himself having to really push hard against the thing. It was like hitting a wall of foam or Jell-O. He could push through if he pressed hard enough but it was not pleasant or as easy as going through the air.

Once through the initial shield wall, he blinked slowly feeling sluggish and as though all his limbs were moving through water. He even sort of felt like he was having to ‘swim’ as he walked like he was both heavier and lighter than he should be, but unable to find that buoyancy happy middle ground.

“Dude…” Tucker said smartly as he frowned at his friend’s almost slow motion, yet stop motion like movements. It was eerie, to say the least, not to mention the more pressing issue that he noticed right off the hop, “Your eyes are shining, man. And your, um… Neck...”

Sam, ever prepared for whatever bull their lives seem to throw their way, slipped her bag around to her front and offered Danny a pair of sunglasses, which the halfa put on promptly, along with the spider webbed patterned black and silver scarf.  “I mean, it’s better,” Sam argued, not even giving Tucker's look of disapproval her full attention.

“They’re spider glasses.” The boy states with a shake of his head. “Not really digging the whole-” Tucker waved his arm about Danny’s head in little circles, “-pseudo goth thing” he finished finally. Though he had to admit it was at least marginally better than seeing his friend’s glowing eyes and the electric scars showing up on his neck and disappearing under his shirt collar.

“Better?” Danny asked out sluggish, his voice almost sounding like it was being drawn out on a tape deck that was starting to lack battery power and not playing at quite the proper speed making the pitch and timing slower and lower.

Sam and Tucker shared a look before offering a thumbs up to their friend, both deciding it better not to address… whatever that was… The look they shared between one another spoke of their mutual hope that this would perhaps be one of those problems that simply go away on its own.

Ignoring the problems they have usually makes it go away… Yeah, that always works out.  

Danny makes a grab for the door to pull it open again, having that weird slow stop motion effect, like he was flickering between blinks rather than making a smooth motion forward. “Ehm, maybe don’t move around too much man… it’s um… creeping me out.” Tucker offers helpfully.

“Huh?” it took Danny a minute to process, as while he looked slow to them they seemed to be hyped up on caffeine to him… “Why are you talking so fast?” He wondered, his head almost appearing to glitch into a tilted and confused look.

“I think the ghost shield is making you go all slow motion. Just stop talking.” Sam says forcefully before letting out a shudder of her own.

Sam and Tucker share a glance before they each grab onto one of Danny’s arms and half drag him off to his locker. Despite his friends’ efforts he still got many looks shot his way, and a couple of people started whispering to one another as he passed by them.

“How is this going to work if I’m already weirding everyone out?” Danny asked, voice still sounding like a slowed record as he blinked sluggishly and his head jerked almost unsteadily from side to side. From his perspective, everyone was speeding along and talking at 1.5 times the normal speed.

“Maybe I should look for the ghost that triggered this, maybe Tuck, can you look into this mess?” Danny asked after a moment of trying to figure out what was being said around him through the noise of the hall.

“Yeah that might be best…” Sam responded shifting from leg to leg as she locks eyes with a basketball jock who was staring at their group incredulously.

“I got you, man, I’ll change everything to present and, block any ‘call home’ recommendations.” Tucker pipped up already pulling out his PDA to set that up preemptively.

Danny nodded and let out a hum before glitching his way out the nearest exit and out of the shield’s bounds. Once he slipped back out through the barrier, strangely enough, a harder feat than it was getting in, but that wasn’t a problem he wanted to focus on, he already blamed Vlad so he would simply continue to do so until the fruitloop showed himself.

As soon as he was through the green line of the shield Danny practically fell forward in relief. That stifling feeling now gone from his core and bones making his movements fluid and normal, well as normal as a clumsy half ghost could be anyhow…

It was a moot point and not one Danny wanted to think on too long. He gave a quick “thanks” to his friends, before diving between the dumpster and the school’s bricks, transforming into his ghostly alter ego and taking off into the sky. He would do a few laps around the school and city as he looks for whatever ghost set off the shield.

-BREAK-

It wasn’t until lunchtime Danny returned looking much more windswept and all around more miserable. He entered the courtyard through the side joining his friends out on the picnic table they had claimed.  He made it over to them, flopped down on the bench next to tucker with a groan before his head smacked into the table before him.

“You find them?” Tucker asked around whatever horrid monstrosity of a sandwich he was eating, spewing bits of half chewed bred at Danny’s head.

“No” Came the muffled reply, filled with tired disdain.

“No ghost sense?” Sam wandered, flicking the bits of bread from Danny’s raven hair and back towards Tucker.

“No”

“Huh… You think it was you who set off the shield?”  Sam wondered with a thoughtful frown.

“When I went into the back end of the generator though it wasn’t supposed to go off for anything that low, Danny in human form is like a two at best,” Tucker argued spinning his PDA around to show what he’d found when he hacked into the motherboard of the Fenton’s latest device.

Danny groaned. He supposed had he listened to his parents he could have been more prepared for whatever lunacy his parents’ decided to toss his way but alas, his short attention span and teenage rebellion and lack of caring got the best of him yet again.

Joyous of joys.

He tuned out his friend’s back and forthing for a bit, wondering if he could get away with smashing the device as Phantom when Tucker had his a-ha moment of discovery. Danny turned his head and raised a brow at his friend who was furiously typing away at his device.

“You were right about Vlad, Sam”

“Naturally,” She agreed.

“Well, he had an over right line here specifically set for Phantom’s ecto- signature,” the boy states running his finger along the line of code he’d found in the program.

Danny’s mood instantly brightened at that. “So then we just get rid of that bit right? And BAM everything’s fine?” He asked. “Man, what happened to me? Why do I want to get into the school again?”

“To keep up the illusion of normalcy on this mortal plane.” Sam supplied stabbing at her salad a little more forcefully than she probably needed to.

“Eh, yeah, I suppose.” Danny agreed with a lacklustre shrug.

“There, that should do it” Tucker spoke, interrupting whatever tangent Sam was getting ready to spew off about how normalcy was only an illusion created by corporations or some other such thing.

“And just in time The bell just rang,” Danny says with a small grin clasping a firm hand onto his friend’s shoulder. “Nice one Tucker!” he cheered as the trio made their way over to the doors that would lead them back into the cafeteria.

Unfortunately, as soon as Danny’s hand hit the door handle the shield once again sprung to life, though this time, instead of simply having a hard time passing through the shield, he was thrown back across the field earning a cry from several students who were following the trio.  

“Grapes of wrath Mister Fenton!” Lancer, (of course it was Lancer) shouted out in worry, his shout even carrying over the prerecorded message containing his father’s voice. Lancer half jogged half waddled over to Danny who blinked up blearily to his teacher, eyes flashing green for the briefest of seconds before draining back to blue.

“Leave it to Fen-turd to get himself possessed.” Dash snorted from behind the pot bellied teacher earning a few nervous glances between the small crowd of gathering students. The mutterings of the students didn’t take long to start up after that.

“I’m not possessed,” Danny argued, though, it was rather hard to make said argument when the palm of his hand was burned and leaking ectoplasm from where he had touched the door.

“Course he’s not possessed! He’s a ghost himself!” Wes shouted pointing an accusatory finger at the youngest Fenton.

Danny glared. “Not the time Westly.” He muttered under his breath as he was hauled to his feet by his friends. He tried to brush himself off only to end up smearing the ectoplasm from his hand onto his jeans, leaving a luminescent streak across his thigh.

Seeing his chance the ginger jock was all too eager to point it out. “See look! He’s bleeding ectoplasm!”

“No, I’m not! It’s from the shield! it sputtered out at me.” Danny tried to protest, though even in his own ears it sounded like a weak argument.

“Really?” Wes argued and marched over to the shimmering shield. The teen waved his arms about freely in the shield’s range hopping back and forth pointedly across the line of the barrier before showing his hands and clothes were completely clean of any glowing goo. “See! Ghost!” he accused again after he did a little pirouette to show his lack of ectoplasm.

“Yeah? Well, it sputtered at Danny only ‘cuz it turned on with him in the threshold.” Sam tried to argue back glaring at the ginger, venom in her gaze.

“Well then, why don’t you just walk through the shield Fen-toad?” Dash said with a smarmy grin, ever eager to get his own jabs in and seemingly not wanting to be outshined by the ginger conspiracy theorist’s bullying of his favourite punching bag.

“Fine” He spat back bitterly and marched up to the shield with a huff.

Sam and Tucker exchange a glance with one another as Danny presses his hand into the shield again. Thankfully this time there wasn’t anything that blows him back but he also really had to try and push through the shield.  

Danny could see out of the corner of his eye Wes’s smug grin as he grunts and does his best to push through the shield. His persistence is rewarded and he falls to the ground on the other side jumping up and giving a quick ‘HA!’ as he faces the small gathering crowd of students shifting uncomfortably just beyond the shield.

Sam had a look of exasperation and she looked like she was trying to restrain herself from face palming. Tucker on the other hand had no such restraint. He was almost over eager to bury his face into his hands.

From Danny’s perspective, he simply smacked into the ground and stood back up, but from the other students’ perspectives, Danny fell into the shield but instantly slowed down, looking as though he were falling with the moon’s gravity rather than the earthly speed everyone was used to. It also didn’t really look to them like he had hit the ground, instead glitching his body back into an upright position before cheering in that low slow motion state as he had earlier.

And if that wasn’t damning enough his eyes were glowing a lovely shade of ectoplasmic green.

Wes smirked, seemingly very smug and content with himself and this development. “See told you all he was a ghost!”

“T-that’s enough Mister Weston… Right…” LAncer muttered to himself a few moments watching as Danny seemed to glitch about as he cheered before seemingly realizing something was wrong. “I think there was a procedure to depossess a student…I bet the teachers in Bridgestone don’t have to exercise their students in this manner…” He complains. Sure they had gym class and he would appreciate the pun and irony if he wasn’t so tired.

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” he muttered, ignoring the look of panic that spread across Danny’s face.

It took some doing, a lot of flailing limbs and pressing himself against the damn shield, but Danny soon was through back out and free. His eyes still glowed brightly as he stared at his classmates looking very much like a deer in the headlights. Eyeshine and all might he add.

A few of the students were snickering, because only in Amity park could one get possessed by a ghost and have it come across as though someone had merely said something embarrassing or misheard an instruction and was now staring blankly ahead.

“Er….” Danny stared at his classmates half panicked before simply vanishing from view.

“Moby Dick!” Lancer exclaimed, almost dropping the book he was thumbing through from the Fenton parents. Sure it was a ghost, and could potentially be dangerous, but it wasn’t attacking so there wasn’t really anyone panicking.

Instead, the teacher simply felt tired. “Right, I’ll call the Fentons and let them deal with this, Everyone back inside I do believe the lunch bell rang already!” the teacher called out shooing the students into dispersing.

Danny stood there invisibly and holding strong as he internally groaned. At least they thought he was possessed, that could be easily explained away but he was not looking forward to trying to explain it to his parents…

Still maybe if he gets ahead of this…

It was with that thought in mind that he bolted away into the treeline beside the school, transformed and headed off to his home landing in his bedroom only a few minutes later. He went human, back intangible and invisible came out the door, made sure the coast was clear before speeding his way down into the basement.

He just made it down the stairs startling his mother and father who blinked at him curiously, when the phone rang cutting off his mother’s “Honey? What are you doing home so soon?”

“It’s the school calling Mads,” Jack says, sounding disappointed as the large man sent a look of disapproval to his boy.

“Wait!” Danny jumped forward answering the phone and instantly hanging it up.

“Daniel!” His mother exclaimed abashedly.

“I wanna explain first! Do you know how all your stuff goes off on me? Well, the shield at school started doing that and they think I’m possessed! I’m not, it's just the… ya know…” Danny rambled off hurriedly hoping against hope that his parents wouldn’t try to send him to decontamination … again… (Thanks to his ghost half, it burned in places he didn’t ever want to burn)

“You’re possessed Dann-o?!” Jack exclaimed instantly pulling a Fenton gun from somewhere on his person and brandishing it towards his son.

Danny threw his hands up and waved them placatingly at his father. “NO! Just the normal stuff! The contamination from the portal accident set it off. I got too close to the sensor!” He says quickly ignoring how his parents seem to flinch slightly.

His parents shared a look before his father seemed to deflate, seemingly upset at the fact his son wasn’t possessed. “I thought we fixed that... “ Jack says with a frown. “But, we can’t let the school know we may have messed it up! I know we’ll just run the tests again and fix it in the night!”  

“Yeah, that would be- Wait what?” Danny blinks. Why couldn’t they just go down and fix it normally? Of course, his parents had to be weird about this too. “Thanks… Is there anything you need from me to help?”

And with those words said he almost instantly regretted it. “Well… We would really like to know why your ecto signature lines up perfectly with Phantom’s but perhaps that can wait.” Maddie offered with a small amused smile.

Danny sputtered at that, “Wh-What?”

“We set up a monitoring system so we can tell which ghosts most frequent the school… Phantom was the one that triggered the shield twice today. There actually wasn’t anything else that did,” Maddie explained with a deepening frown.

“You sure you’re not possessed, son?” Jack asked again this time sounding almost defeated in how, well, normal a volume he asked that. The hidden meaning was all too obvious especially after he mentioned his accident…

They thought he was dead! The portal killed him! And as the growing pit of dread grew into Danny’s stomach he couldn’t help but feel awful knowing they were correct in that assumption, well at least half right anyhow.

“Yeah… I’m… I’m me…” Danny managed out his voice cracking

“O-oh hun....” Maddie sniffed.

“But it’s not I… I’m me, I promise and I’m not all dead. I still have a heartbeat and everything!” Danny argued or rather tried to as his mother was quick to kneel before him taking his face in her hands as tears bubbled down her chin.

“Mom really I’m like … half at most. More human with a side of ghostly abilities ya know?”

“Oh, it’s okay Dann-o… You're still my son, I know ya are. It’s been almost a year since that accident and you’re mostly still you.” Jack said. “Just worse grades and more hormones and-”

“Thanks, guys really,” Danny sighed in relief both at dodging the potentially awkward birds and ghostly bees talk as well as the tepid acceptance he was getting. Awkward though it may be it was still acceptance nonetheless.  He was happy for it just the same.

“Maybe while we work on fixing up the shield to ignore Phantom’s signature you can tell us about some things?” Maddie asked sniffling again as she looked over her son’s face trying her best to hold herself together and not outright bawl at the thought she had killed her youngest child.

“Y-yeah… I’ve been wanting to tell you about this for a while now but, well, ya know…” Danny offered uselessly.

“I think it’s us who should apologize for that, son but maybe we can just all go get some triple chocolate fudge milkshakes and go deal with that shield after dinner?” Jack offered with a smile, ever the one to break up tension.

“Yeah, yeah… that sounds good.” Danny agreed. Well, it wasn't how he was expecting this to go, but he was kinda glad it ended up like this. Maybe now they could repair their strained relationship.

As Maddie ruffled up Danny’s hair the teen offered her his first genuine smile in almost a year.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Total words: 4245 Complete

[changingourdestiny]

Season of the Hunt Part 5: I Promise

Summary:

While investigating the EDZ, Crow show’s Blaze a hideout of his within the ruins of the dam. There, Crow opens up to Blaze about his feelings towards his past.

Previous Part: Here

Next Part: Here

“I must say, you and Crow have very similar…er, flying styles.” Glint commented as Blaze and Crow transmatted into the EDZ. “Believe it or not, Rae’s worse!” Blaze laughed, “You’d be surprised how many times Ghost has scolded her for flying too fast!” Blaze glanced around the ruined remains of Trostland, “So where to?” “The Traveller sent us coordinates that seem to lead to the dam.” Crow replied. “Then lets go to the damn dam!” Crow let out a small chuckle at Blaze’s poor attempt at a pun, “That was awful.” “They only get better from here, bud.” “She means worse!” “Firefly!” Crow laughed as Blaze scolded her Ghost, which caught her off guard as she hadn’t ever heard him fully laugh. Not in Crow’s lifetime anyway. She couldn’t help but smile, happy that Crow was seeming to become more comfortable around her. “Anyway, let’s go before the Taken welcoming party show up.” “We’re going into the deep inside, so there should be less activity.” Crow nodded, “Follow me. I know a shortcut.” Crow lead Blaze through a series of old ruined buildings. “Do you come out here often?” Blaze asked. “Not as much since we met, but I used to when on assignment.” Crow replied, “It’s quiet out here. No one to bother me…hmph, or for me to bother.” That’s when Blaze realised it. Crow has bound to have run into other Guardians before being found by Spider. Guardians who weren’t as forgiving or willing to move on as she and her Fireteam were. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what he had gone through since being revived by Glint. “Watch your step.” Blaze was brought out of her thoughts as she and Crow arrived at a large, broken pipe, “It’s through here.” Crow entered the pipe and slid down it into another ruined area of the dam. He turned around to make sure Blaze had made it in. “…whooooooOOOOOOOOHOOOOO- WHOA!” “ARGH!” Blaze came flying out of the pipe and crashed straight into Crow, the two tumbling to the floor. “Ow…sorry…” Blaze groaned, rubbing her head. “Um, Blaze?” “Hm?” That’s when Blaze noticed she was laying on top of Crow. “A-ah! Sorry!” Blaze quickly got off him, her face a dark blue, as she helped him up. “It’s alright.” Crow replied, “Be careful up here, we need to cross on a thin pipe.” “R-right!” Blaze grinned, trying to hide her blush. ‘Blaze, you idiot, you’re supposed to be over this!’ Blaze scolded herself in her head as she followed Crow across the pipe. She brushed it off as seeing things, but she swore she had saw him blush too…

As they made their way further in, Crow suddenly stopped, “Hey, do you mind if we take a detour? I want to show you something.” “Sure!” Blaze replied as Crow led her through a debris filled hallway and into a room that was visible through a fallen-in wall. “Don’t mind the mess. Glint’s a terrible maid.” Crow joked. “What is this place?” Blaze asked, glancing about the objects scattered about the room. “This is just where I come to…get some distance when I need it.” Crow sighed, “Someplace to call my own.” “It’s his Crow’s Nest.” Blaze could hear the smile in Glints voice as he popped out beside Crow. “It absolutely is not.” Crow glared at Glint who went back to hiding in his hood. Blaze looked around the room before her eyes landed on a cluster of wine bottles. “Crow, do we need to have an intervention?” Blaze chuckled. “I didn’t drink that by myself.” Crow rolled his eyes, “In fact I didn’t have any of it. After Glint brought me back to life, I quickly came to realise that Guardians recognised me as whoever I was before.” Crow paused for a moment, “They…weren’t always kind. So I took to wearing a helmet to hide my face. Before Spider.” “Unfortunately, not all Guardians are good people.” Blaze sighed, “There have been Guardians who’ve used their powers for ill or have given into temptation. Some are just straight up cruel.” “Guess I was lucky to get a kind bunch.” Crow smiled. Blaze smiled back before something caught her eye, “Hold up.” She walked over to a blue bowl with golden markings on it, “These are Dawning patterns.” “Oh, right. Glint gave this to me.” “It was a gift.” Glint added, “It was the Dawning. Your first Dawning.” “This year’s Dawning should be starting soon.” Blaze suddenly had an idea, “I should see if Rae can convince Spider to let you come to the Tower for Dawning! You’d love it!” “As much as I appreciate the offer,” Crow sighed, “I fear I might not be welcomed by the Guardians there.” “In the words of a certain kind old lady that comes to visit us, ‘The Dawning is for everyone’. That includes you. And if anyone tries to say otherwise, they’ll have me and my flames to answer to!” Crow seemed surprised at first before giving a small smile, “Thank you.” Blaze grinned back in return before noticing the sheet underneath the bowl. Crow followed her gaze to it, “My first memories are of waking up under this shroud. The first thing that was mine.” He placed a hand on it, “It was comforting somehow. I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away. Someone cared enough to lay me to rest. I meant something to them, whoever they are, and that…means something to me.” Blaze tried not to let Crow the sombre expression that had sneaked onto her face. She remembered how much she had to pester Petra to allow her to hold a proper funeral for Uldren. If it weren’t for Jolyon also proposing it, she probably never would’ve succeeded. Blaze wanted to tell Crow so desperately who she was, but she knew it would only hurt him. Besides, he wasn’t the same person she had fallen for in her past life. It wouldn’t matter. So why? Why did she feel…? “I’m not stupid.” Blaze was brought back again by Crow, “I know…the person I used to be, he did something terrible. I can feel it when people look into my eyes and see him. The way Rae and Adam looked at me when we first met. I don’t ever want to know him. However…” Crow looked to Blaze, “The look you gave me was…different. And I couldn’t figure out how. That was…” Blaze watched as he removed something from under his cloak and hand it to her, “…until Rae told me your name.” Blaze looked down at what Crow had handed to her and let out a small gasp. A silver ring with a fire agate, the words ‘Blaisel Kiria. My phoenix’ engraved on the inside, hanging from a silver chain. “You kept it…” Blaze muttered. “I asked Rae about it. She said it should be up to you if you tell me or not.” Crow continued, “Like I said, I don’t want anything to do with who I used to be. But…I feel like giving this back to you might at least give you respite.” Blaze stared down at the ring, thinking over her choice of words carefully. “I…” she began, “I’m not too good with words. Saying comforting and meaningful stuff is usually Rae’s department. I just add the optimistic side-commentary.” Black chuckled, “But the person you used to be…we were close back then, until…something really bad happened. I know you’re not him. I came to terms with that a long time ago.” Crow gave a nod. “But who you were doesn’t matter.” This caught him by surprise as Blaze continued, “What matters is who you choose to be now. That person died a long time ago. He’s gone. And now you’re here. Only you get a say in who you are now. Not me. Not Spider. Not any Guardian. You.” Blaze smiled, “And I’ll be right here if you need me. I promise.” Crow searched her eyes for any deception or misleading, but all he saw was genuine honesty and kindness – something he had rarely seen in any of the Guardians he met. It was Blaze’s turn to be caught off guard as she was suddenly enveloped in a hug. “…thank you.” Crow’s voice was barely above a whisper – Blaze probably would’ve missed it if she wasn’t paying attention. Blaze smiled and gently hugged him back, “You’re welcome.”

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

“Somethings happening.” Glint alerted, “I’m detecting massive gravity distortions in the dam!” “I know. We can see them!” Blaze and Crow watched as large boulders floated about the large room. “Savathûn likes zero-g apparently.” Blaze half-joked. “You think she’s capable of this?” Crow asked. “It’s Hive. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had means to make the entire Last City float. Here I thought doing the impossible was more of a Paralight trope.” “That would explain why you’re so good at taking them down.” “Taken welcoming committee inbound!” Firefly chirped as the tell-tale glow of incoming Taken appeared. “Shall we?” Crow offered his hand. Blaze smirked, taking his hand, “Hell yeah!” The duo jumped down as the Taken appeared, weapons at the ready.

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

“You could nearly hear what that last Taken was thinking when you threw that grenade! ‘Nooo! Why would Sava-loon send me to such a horrible fate?! Curse you, Blaze and Croooooooooow!’” Blaze yelled dramatically as she reloaded her gun. “You’re so strange.” Crow laughed. “Hey. I’m one of the more normal people in the Tower. You think I’m strange, wait ‘til you meet the grenade-obsessed Titan that is Shaxx!” “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Blaze stuck out her tongue as she holstered Firelight, “So now what?” “As we finished that last Taken, I…felt something.” “Was it actually saying that telepathically to you?” Crow stifled a laugh, “Blaze, I’m serious!” “Sorry, sorry! Go on!” Blae giggled. “It was a yearning. For change…for adventure.” Crow smiled awkwardly, “It feels childish, but it’s like the gun – or maybe the Traveller – wants us to experience triumph.” “It might have something to do with elevated states of emotion.” Glint added, “Like you need to attune your minds to a specific wavelength.” “Like a happy radio?” Firefly asked. “Something like that.” “I think we should try.” Crow asserted before turning to Blaze with a determined expression, “Together?” “Together.” Blaze smiled.

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

“There’s increased Taken activity here.” Glint alerted as Blaze and Crow traversed the grove once more, this time staying together, “It’s going to be much more dangerous than last time.” “Good thing we’re here to back you up.” Crow added. “Yeah! Savathûn’s got nothing we can’t handle.” Blaze smiled, brimming with confidence, “C’mon. The shard should be right…over…” Blaze’s smile fell as they turned the corner. Where the shard once was, was now a large orb of Taken blight as Taken began to appear. “What have they done?!” Crow exclaimed, “What are they doing?! We have to stop this!” “I’ll take left side, you take right!” Blaze called out as she made a dash for the Taken on the left of the blight while Crow began shooting at the Taken on the right. Blaze sliced through some of the smaller Taken with her dagger before focusing on some of the larger ones with her bow. “Blaze, behind-!” Crow’s voice didn’t reach her on time as Blaze felt a searing pain in her back while being thrusted forward into the rocky wall. A loud snap was heard, but it didn’t come from Blaze. “Oh no, NO!” Blaze exclaimed as she picked up her bow. Or rather what was left of it. It had snapped in half from the force with the fiery feather snapped from the chain holding it to the bow’s frame. She failed to notice the large Taken captain about to fire at her from point blank. “BLAZE!” Blaze felt a wave of heat as the Taken screeched out in pain. She looked up to see it growling at something off to the side. Across the way was Crow surrounded by a fiery golden glow with a furious expression and a flaming handcannon pointed at the Taken captain. Not just any hand cannon, though.

Hawkmoon.

To Be Continued…

[lady-charinette]

Soul Searching - Caius & Lightning Fic

She felt his presence before she saw him and he was right where they had last met, she recalled.

Leisurely on the throne of Etro, as if he belonged there, sat Caius Ballad.

Shrouded in wisps of darkness, he looked different for reasons she couldn't explain. Perhaps it was the heart of chaos missing, perhaps it was the fact his merging with chaos itself had changed him or perhaps it was an entirely different reason.

Despite 500 years of not seeing him, she gripped her blade tighter, eyes alert and body tense in preparation, after all, if she knew one thing in this strange new world she was destined to save, it was him. Countless of endless fights at the shores of Valhalla created a deeper understanding of one another than she would have gotten had she met him under normal circumstances, not that she wanted to dwell on that possibility too long.

His gaze seemed tranquil, dark eyes taking in her form, particularly her apparel and her new sword, no longer blessed with the divine powers as Etro’s champion.

His voice was the same as all those years ago, but Lightning swore there was something different about it, “I suppose I should call you Bhunivelze’s champion now or was it Liberator?” his smirk, that familiar smirk, offered a strange source of something akin to comfort in the strange world she had been thrust into after her 500 year sleep in crystal statis.

She huffed, falling back into their age-old familiar banter before battle, “Whatever you call me, it won’t change my focus.”

500 years ago, amusement would have lighted the warrior’s eyes, but now they were dark, guarded, “Ah, yes, your focus.” His gaze met hers again, “That’s why you are here.”

She was right to assume his senses hadn’t dulled the slightest during her crystal sleep, nor his combat abilities, for in one second he was still sitting sprawled on the throne and in the next, she felt his presence directly behind her.

This was usually how they started one of their stalemates and her body reacted out of pure instinct and the familiarity of it all, feet bracing firmly on the floor and arms and body pivoting to swing her blade back.

She was surprised when her blade met thin air, when the familiar metallic ring didn’t sound in her ears when her sword clashed with his in a stalemate.

She staggered slightly, quickly composing herself to turn around, watching the small smirk play on the man’s lips, now in front of her.

“That again? I suppose it’s been a long time.” she thought his sword would manifest at any given moment, but it did not and his intentions confused her more than anything. “These aren’t the timeless shores of Valhalla, Warrior Goddess, I will not fight you here.”

Yet.

She could hear it in his voice, he would fight her, just not now.

Lowering her blade for the moment, Lightning assessed him, “Save your breath if all you’re spewing are lies.” her gaze narrowed, “I wouldn’t be here if you do not wish to fight me.”

Again, those purple eyes darkened with contempt and it oddly infuriated her, “Time is different.” he began, voice calm, all previous amusement gone, “This world is different.” His gaze locked onto her and she stood her ground fiercely by glaring at him. “But the outcome is the same.” she pointed her blade at his throat then.

“Are you still insisting on destroying the timeline again?” her voice was hard, jagged shards of ice, “You’ve destroyed it once before and set chaos free to roam the world.” her gaze narrowed, “You should have achieved your goal so why are you still here?”

Slowly, he lifted his hand and it effortlessly glided through her blade in a brief twirl of smoky shadows, tendrils of darkness morphing back into its original form. Her gaze followed the movement, eyes meeting his steady gaze as he side-stepped her blade and walked slowly around her.

“As you can see, I’m no longer of this world,” Lightning lowered her blade but in no way her guard, listening carefully for his footsteps and breathing pattern to determine an incoming attack. “I no longer possess the heart and with my sacrifice and the world’s end, my body has become one with chaos.” Lightning’s brows furrowed, “It was Yeul’s desire…” his voice softened briefly at the mention of the seeress and Lightning swore she detected the same fond tone she usually heard in Sazh’s voice whenever he talked about or to his son.

He suffers, because of us. Savior, can you save him?

Shaking her head, she looked at him, “Now that we’ve worked that out, who is the girl that’s been following me?”

Caius paused in his slow pacing, behind her and she sensed his confusion, “A girl?”

When she turned around, his gaze was questioning, “The moment I’ve awoken from my crystallization a girl named Lumina has been tailing my every move. She claims she is neither friend nor foe and on occasion, she helps me on my journey.” she looked away, brows furrowed in confusion and her next words were whispered, “She reminds me of my sister.”

The warrior behind her remained quiet and she couldn’t help but grow impatient, “Well?”

Finally, Caius shook his head, even if she couldn’t see, “I have no knowledge of her.”

The answer was too short for her liking, “I think she is a part of chaos, how can you not know of her existence?” her voice grew hard, exasperated with him already.

Caius snorted softly, “What reason would I have to deceive you, savior? This is no longer Valhalla and neither of us serve as obstacles in the other’s goals.”

Her gaze narrowed at his tall form, “You keep saying that, but you still want to drive your sword through me, is that not it?” her own grip tightened around her weapon, “I stopped questioning your motives long ago and I’m not about to begin now.” she raised her sword to point the tip at his face.

His face could have been made of stone, expression unreadable and that small fact unnerved her.

Caius was expressive, open with his emotions, he usually used those in his fights with her and back then she was able to read him like an open book.

Now, he seemed like a stone surface, gaze carefully blank and his eyes like the depths of cosmos – endless and hiding an infinite number of mysterious.

She straightened her stance, “Tell me savior, what reason would you have to come here?” his eyes narrowed slightly, a familiar expression of ire, “There is nobody here for you to save.”

Lightning found it strange uttering the next words, but she did anyway, “On the contrary, there is.” her gaze remained firmly fixed upon him and he released a low, hollow chuckle, something that unnerved her further.

“Does my victory still sting? Do you seek vindication? There is no other reason for you to waste your precious time on me.” he slowly walked within her field of vision, careful to not appear threatening, “Your wish to save me is misguided at best.”

She snorted, “It’s for Yeul’s sake, she asked me to.”

Caius shook his head slowly, “I refuse.” his eyes met hers again, “I’m well aware of your limitations, Savior. Those who do not seek salvation cannot be saved.”

This time Lightning shook her head, advancing forward with her sword raised, “I’m not asking for your permission, whether you want to or not, I’ll do what Yeul asked of me.”

Caius rose an eyebrow, having not expected her fierce words.

He fought the strong urge to attack her and instead, he smirked, “Even if one Yeul wishes for my salvation, another demands the opposite. There are many Yeuls here in the chaos and all of them harbor different wishes and demands, it would be impossible to please them all.”

Lightning stepped forward, “Then let’s start by pleasing the one that asked me to save you!” she raised her sword to strike him down and was met with a solid resistance in the form of his massive sword, having materialized from the chaos surrounding them to bend to its masters’ whim.

“I see your determination to fulfill your duties has stayed the same, Warrior Goddess,” he pushed her back with brute force and she backflipped into the air to land on her feet away from him.

It looked like he was ready to fight.

“I see your stubbornness hasn’t changed over the last centuries.” she frowned when he brought his sword in front of him, the Eye of Bahamut glowing cruelly at her.

She braced herself for an attack when he suddenly threw the massive weapon into the air, thinking he must have acquired new abilities since the last time they fought.

She watched its descent toward the ground, but nothing happened and her eyes widened when Caius didn’t move an inch from his spot.

The sword bore down cruelly on its wielder, impaling the complete length of his body as the harsh impact was met with a pained, strangled yell.

She took a step back out of reflex, watching the copious chaos leaking from the fatal wound on his body.

The chaos swallowed him, until only his sword remained, but a moment later, Caius himself materialized out of thin air, the cruel fatal wound on his body having never existed.

With fluidity, he grabbed the hilt of his sword again and rested the tip against the ground, “How…?” her words betrayed her emotions, or what was left of them.

The warrior smirked and it was anything but smug, “One Yeul may wish for my salvation, but another demands for my rebirth.” he spread his arms out, “I told you, you cannot take my soul.”

Caius elaborated further, watching the chaos fully manifest his hand in front of him, “With every rebirth, her soul divides into fragments, melting into the ocean of chaos.” She watched the distantly familiar anguished expression on his face, an expression he got whenever he talked about Yeul.

She felt an odd sense of normalcy seeing the open emotion on his face, “She is one and many. A walking contradiction. Yuel may wish for my freedom, but demands my company as well. I am but a willing captive, here to guard, to care for her. She is but a child, a child needs to be looked after, especially in a place such as this, filled with chaos, with emptiness. The thought of companionship a mere illusion, I’m the one intending to turn that illusion into a reality for all eternity.”

Lightning swallowed, unease settling into the pit of her stomach, “So, this is it? You plan to stay here with Yuel and get destroyed? Is this your atonement for everything you’ve done?” she felt surges of energy coursing through her, it reminded her of anger, but she wasn’t sure she was capable of feeling much at all.

Like an empty shell.

Just like him.

She watched the way he smiled and chuckled with disdain, “Atonement? You call my sin destroying the world, wherein my real sin lies in not being able to grant Yuel the freedom and life she deserved.” Caius dipped his head down, staring at the dark marble floor, “For that sin, I’ve already surrendered my soul, all that remains is to cast this body away as well, to linger in the chaos with her for all eternity.”

The savior couldn’t deny feeling a sense of pity, especially when he mentioned Yuel being a child to be looked after, it reminded her of-

Serah.

Caius looked at her then, catching the familiar look of longing and heartache in her eyes, a lingering trace of the human emotions she lost.

“If you truly wish to have my soul,” Caius was walking towards her abruptly and Lightning took each step back for every step forward he took.

Just before he would’ve collided with her, his body vanished in tendrils of chaos, the only reminder of his previous presence.

Only his voice echoed from somewhere in the vicinity, like an echo, “-You must find it at the time before the end began first.”

Lightning tried to steady her breathing, gaze returning to the familiar throne Caius had sat on, the throne she had prayed to before and after each battle in Valhalla.

The throne of a dead goddess.

When Lightning turned around to leave, there was a familiar cackling behind her, “Well, well, well, look who’s here helping the enemy? I thought you guys hated each-other’s guts, but now you’re saving him?”

Lumina.

“What do you want?”

“Oh, don’t glare at me like that, Light. I’m just here to enjoy the show, this part’s the most interesting so far.” She giggled in amusement, swinging her legs that hang off the side of the throne.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? You’re gonna go and save his soul, I don’t know why, which makes it all the more exciting, since you’re running on borrowed time, but it should keep the game alive!” she cupped her face in her hands, watching the savior with interest.

Lightning glared at her with annoyance, “Don’t confuse my service as anything but my duty. I swore to try and save as many souls as I can, in this time, I can barely tell anymore who’s friend or foe.” She remembered her confrontation with Noel, the young hunter having turned into a dark recluse, the likes she’d never seen before.

Lumina frowned suddenly, displeased, before she vanished into thin air and the throne was once again empty.

Still, Lightning gave a respectful nod to a dying memory, before she left the ruins with a set mind and a promise to fulfill.

[uas-art]

Title: Aren't You...? Rating: T Summary: For every advantage not having a secret identity had, there was always a disadvantage he had to deal with as well. Ships: Jyle mentioned past Kydi Other: Superhero AU

Read on ao3

~~~~

The train car was mostly empty, which left Jimmy somewhat disappointed. Sitting around on the train to people watch gave him some of his best bits.

Where would the name 'Jimmy Valmer' be in the comedian circles if he didn't have his Bible Throw Down story?

Of course, the story itself had some embellishment to it, but it wasn't fully made-up. Jimmy was witness to two old women getting up in each other's faces, and one of them did raise her Bible to smack the other, but the fight didn't escalate as far as Jimmy's routine claimed.

Fastpass stepped in before that could happen.

He shouldn't be too surprised at the emptiness of the train, really. It was late, and this train didn't run between any major factories or nightclubs.

The only other passengers were a person sleeping in the corner, a bottle in a paper bag between her shoes, and another person sitting in the middle of the car, staring down at his phone.

Jimmy slipped into a seat and took off his crutches. He set them beside him before leaning back and shutting his eyes.

Maybe this was a blessing, more so than the Bible Throw Down, even. Some quiet time would do him good.

It seemed that lately, the city was more chaotic than normal: crime was on the rise, villains with superpowers kept popping up, not to mention the recent bout of fights and arguing amongst the city's heroes.

Just a week ago, Mosquito and ToolShed got into a spat over something or another and fucked up a local park. The media was still having a field day with that story.

All the heroes have been staying on their best behavior since then in an attempt to keep their reputations on the up and up. Jimmy included. That was the main reason he wasn't running home. The last thing he needed was the tabloids getting wind that he had gotten another speeding ticket or that he'd broken traffic laws again.

"Um, hey, excuse me?"

Jimmy opened his eyes. The person who was sitting in the middle of the train now stood in front of him.

"Yeah?" Jimmy shifted so he was sitting up straight.

"Are you..." The person paused a moment, and Jimmy reflexively tensed for what was coming.

'Are you the Fastpass?’

For every advantage not having a secret identity had, there was always a disadvantage he had to deal with as well. This particular disadvantage was his least favorite.

Everyone knew him as 'Fastpass', the speedy fighter for justice first and foremost, not 'Jimmy Valmer,' stand up comedian, or 'Jimmy Valmer,' newspaper reporter. Jimmy was proud of the good he'd done as Fastpass, but the fact it erased all his other accomplishments annoyed him to no end.

There wasn't much he could do to prevent it though, so instead he prepared for the onslaught of usual questions.

"You're Jimmy Valmer, right?"

Jimmy blinked. His brain froze a moment before the word sunk in.

"Y-yes. That's me!" Jimmy brightened. He held out his hand with a grin. "And you?"

The person grinned back before taking his hand and shaking. "Kyle. It's so cool to meet you."

"Likewise," Jimmy replied, "I love meeting fans!" He paused a moment, before picking up his crutches from the seat beside him and moved them so they were between his knees.

"Wanna take a seat and ch-chat?" He patted the seat beside him.

Kyle looked apprehensive until Jimmy flashed an encouraging smile, then he slipped into the seat.

"So, what brings you out on this glorious night? The am-amb-ambiance of the train or the company?" Jimmy waved his hand to the train drunk in the corner.

Kyle covered his smile. "I'm heading home from a friend's house, actually. He just moved out from his ex-girlfriend's, and he's still getting over it."

"Ah," Jimmy nodded, "A br-broken heart can change a good man in so many ways."

Kyle snorted. "He'll get over it. He's just pissed a friend told his ex something he'd said in confidence about her." He shook his head.

Jimmy rested his chin on his crutches. In his mind's eye, he replayed the argument between Mosquito and ToolShed. Apparently, the argument started after Mosquito mentioned some less than savory information about Shed to Call Girl.

It was almost funny how something so ordinary could cause so much damage among super powered men.

"I hope he and his friends, girl or o-otherwise, can work everything out." Jimmy offered.

"Yeah," Kyle sighed, a forlorn look crossing his face.

"Something the matter, buddy?" Jimmy asked.

Kyle jumped. "Oh! No, no, I just--it's nothing. Personal stuff. A stranger like you wouldn't want to hear about it."

Jimmy turned his head to the side. "Strangers? We know each other's names, that makes us p-prac-pra--pretty much family." His eyes twinkled. "You can expect me over for Christmas dinner with how close we are now!"

Kyle chuckled and shook his head. "I'm Jewish, actually."

"Oh, Hanukkah then," Jimmy corrected. "I'll show up all eight nights and bring a cheese p-platter. Besides," he elbowed him, "if something is bothering you, talking tends to help, if you want."

Kyle chewed his lip a moment. "This isn't going to be used in any of your shows if I tell you?"

Jimmy crossed his heart. "I would never. Scout's honor."

Taking a breath, Kyle slumped forward a bit. He ran his hand through his thick, red curls.

"My own girlfriend broke up with me recently as well." He admitted.

Jimmy frowned before reaching over and setting a comforting hand on his should. "I'm s-sorry. That must be difficult."

Kyle shrugged a little. "The reason I know who you are as a comedian is that I took Heidi to one of your shows for her birthday. She really likes your anecdotes." He smiled softly at the memory for a moment. "I'd only knew you as a superhero until then, but you're really funny."

"Out of the spandex and in, Jimmy Valmer loves to make people smile." Jimmy dropped his hand to his lap. "So, if you don't mind telling me, w-wh-what happened between you two?"

Kyle's smile fell. He looked down at his hands. "An old...'friend' of ours convinced her of some things about me that aren't true." When he said 'friend', he clenched his jaw for a heartbeat. "So, she left me, and I'm one hundred percent sure that jackass only told her what he told her because he's still in love with her."

"She and you're ex-friend were a thing?" Jimmy asked.

He nodded sharply. "Unfortunately." His hands clenched into fists. "It's not fair. I'm a thousand times better for her than him. He's just a manipulative asshole!"

For just a fraction of a second, Jimmy swore he saw Kyle's eyes flash with a red glow. There was something familiar about it, but he couldn't place it.

Jimmy pushed the thought aside before he spoke. "I wish I could give you some advice here, but I th-think anything I have to say, you've probably already heard before."

Kyle let his shoulders slump forward. "You mean that sometimes people fall back into bad patterns? Or that bad people can hide how terrible they are?"

"Well, I was going to say you should try not to beat yourself up about it," Jimmy told him. "If this asshole is as bad as you say, then he wants you to feel t-terrible. If you instead stay strong and keep going on in your life, then you win."

Kyle blinked a few times as he mulled over Jimmy's words. "Yeah." He said slowly. "Yeah, that makes sense."

Jimmy flashed a smile. "And when everything c-cr-crashes and burns for him, Heidi will see you're still going strong and want to come back to someone who can actually be there for her."

Kyle's eyes sparkled. All the sorrow that plagued his posture seemed to lift, and he raised himself up straight. His lips turned upwards.

"Yeah, you're right. Heidi will see Cartman's an asshole sooner or later. Even if she doesn't want to date me anymore, at least I can be there for her to help, right? I'm still her friend, regardless."

"Hell yeah!" Jimmy pumped his fist up in solidarity.

The two shared wide grins before the train jerked to a stop. Kyle raised his head to look out the window to the station.

"Oh, it's my stop." He sounded a little disappointed. "I have to get home."

"Before you go!" Jimmy patted his pockets before pulling out a small notebook and pen. He flipped to a clean page then scribbled down a note before ripping it out.

Kyle took the note from his outstretched hand.

"What's this?"

"A ticket. If you ever need a smile, bring that to any of my shows," Jimmy explained. "Don't worry about security not letting you in. They know I do this all the time."

Kyle looked at the note then up at Jimmy. He nodded before folding it up and slipping it into his pocket.

"Thank you." Kyle waved as he headed out the door. "I'll be sure to drop by sometime soon."

"I l-look forward to seeing you!" Jimmy called, though the doors had already shut. He leaned back.

He wondered if Kyle would make up with his ex and start dating her again. If not, Jimmy thought he wouldn't mind trying to take Kyle out for a date himself. Someone like that didn't deserve to spend nights alone.

Especially when they didn't pigeonhole Jimmy as just a superhero but as a living, breathing, hilarious person.

A smile formed on his lips. He'd forgotten how nice it felt to be recognized for his personal talents, and not just his speed.

If Kyle showed up at his show, Jimmy vowed, he'd make sure he got a front row seat.

~~~~

AN: I headcanon in the superhero AU that at the very least Jimmy is Iron Man-ing it up and is totally out with his super and civilian IDs.

[twitchesandstitches]

Powered Up Toga

A slight sound, the ghost of a noise, alerted Midoriya Izuku to another presence directly around him. He was used to much larger bigger presences since he had started empowering his friends with the power to be the best and biggest heroes they could possibly be, and so looked instinctively upwards. Perhaps he expected to see a pink thigh wider around than a building, or a green wall surmounted by hair, but he saw only the open sky, and a skyline adjusted for all the giant heroines going around.

“Not so high!”

Izuku’s gaze realigned downwards, towards eye level. He swiftly looked back up for the sake of decency, a very large and almost completely exposed valley of cleavage right in front of his eyes. “Miss Yaoyorozu!”

The dark eyes of what appeared to be Yaoyorozu Momo looked down at him, one heavy sheath of hair flowing over her face so that her vision should nearly have been obscured. She almost broke into a wide, toothy smile at the sight of him before instantly forcing herself to look neutral; she looked so pleased to see him! “Deku!” She said brightly.

Deku took a few steps back. Momo was… well, a lot taller than him, if perhaps not as gigantic as the likes of Mina or Tsuyu had become thanks to him, and he found her rather intimidating. Something was a bit odd. “Is something happening?” He asked, rather concerned. She was using his hero name…?

She stopped, her face becoming neutral once more. He relaxed, a bit. That was more like the Yaoyorozu he knew. “I have a favor to ask.”

He nodded. “Sure thing?”

“If you could…” she put a finger to her lip, head tilting downwards, coquettish and flirty. “Would you please give me a power boost?”

Izuku blinked. “Um. Oh!” He fidgeted, and Momo stared down at him, no particular visible emotion, just… quiet. Waiting. He squirmed some more, blushing brightly and even tearing up a little bit. “I mean… If you want… I could…” his voice dropped. “If you’re… sure…”

She bent over, and a finger braced against his chin, tilting his head up to meet her eyes. “I am absolutely sure, sweet Deku.” her tone was loving, sweet, and far too familiar for her.

Izuku was blushing hard now, and not in a position to think much on that. He’d imagined this would happen eventually, of course! The… empowering bit. Not whatever else was going on here. “Of course!”

“So. How do you do it?”

“Um. You have to eat something with my DNA. Like a hair, or…” he paused thoughtfully, trying to think of something perhaps more refined.

Momo smiled, showing far more teeth than was necessary. “Or saliva?”

“Well. I guess so, but-”

Momo’s hands gripped his shoulders as she picked him up, pinning him against a nearby alleyway wall, and he had time for a single squeak of surprise before her mouth clamped around his lips. “Mmm~!” She murmured, hot wetness and pressure swelling around his mouth.

She moved close against him, so that there was not even an inch of air between them. Her large breasts pressed heavily against his front, her thick body sliding onto his fit, smaller frame, friction quivering warm and hot and wild.

His mind went blank. He succumbed, obligingly, and a stray thought came to him why do i feel the pathway opening up, this isn’t really how our friendship goes, and it shut down as the power of One For All flowed through him. Nine generations of stockpiled power flooded through him, into her.

Nine generations of heroic willpower, and the wish to protect everyone came into the girl that appeared to be Momo Yaoyorozu.

Her kiss deepened, and she began to visibly grow larger, her body shifting faintly like sculpted clay, and she trembled as the new power settled into her. Her kiss lingered, for much longer than necessary. She squeezed him, her hips sliding almost possessively against him, like she didn’t want to move away. She moved like someone doing her best to declare him her personal property with body language alone.

Eventually though, she had to breath, and she let go with a pop. She moved away, and the warmth of her body, the softness of it, stayed on his mind as he hit the ground to his knees. She bent over, breathing hard, her eyes wide and veins glowing faintly in colorful patterns. Slowly she stumbled away, and something strange happening to her legs made her gait uneven and awkward. “I’ll be - seeing you later, Deku~” she managed, winking at him, and grinning toothily.

Izuku stared blankly as she left, and fled deeper into the alleyway, turning out of side. He thought he saw her body warping like clay. A sudden, horrified suspicion dawned in his mind, reinforced as running steps came from behind him.

He awkwardly stood up, turning as Momo Yaoyorozu came running from the other end of the alleyway, in from the street. “Midoriya!” She cried out, hurrying to him. She checked him up and down, patting him in a professional way, perhaps checking for injuries. “Are you all right!?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine…!”

She relaxed, very slightly. She firmed up, and said, “Did you see anyone who looked like me just now!?”

“...I think so. I just saw you, and you wanted-” he stopped, blushing brightly.

Yaoyorozu looked at the ground, hugging herself awkwardly and blushing nearly as hard. “Oh no…” she said softly. “Where did the person who looked like me go!?”

“Down the alleyway!” He pointed, and they both began to run, the same suspicions in their minds. “What’s going on!?”

“Last night, my family’s private medical store were ransacked, and some of my blood went missing! Needless to say, we assumed that one of the League of Villains was behind it, considering that blood was involved, and since people were seeing someone looking just like me goign around here-”

Izuku’s eyebrows met together in a patented Heroic Grimace. “You don’t mean, Himiko Toga!?”

At that moment, with an absolutely astounding grasp of drama, the buildings around them began to shake.

A yellow mass grew from the buildings. That is to say, it was pretty clear that it was hair, or shaped like it. The substance looked more like wet clay, or some kind of thick liquid, gleaming a warm gray color in the bright sunlight, and it shimmered with the green of Izuku’s own manifestation of One For All.

It grew larger, and larger, and much larger, slowly transforming into a more humanoid form. Thirty feet tall, and then forty. Fifty feet, putting on additional feet by the second. Sixty feet, then seventy, and she was still growing.

The mass of shifting substance took on a very feminine shape. An absurdly over-proportioned one, if you counted by the kinds of figures going about before Izuku started empowering people and discovered that it had some additional effects on certain body types. The hips swelled out massively, blocking out the sun in a sort of sideways infinity shape, the section of clay-stuff below them separated into very wide and well-shaped legs. The chest blossomed, and then erupted outwards, into breasts so massive it out to have completely unbalanced her in seconds. But they kept growing, as she kept getting more giant-y, and fortunately for the sake of modesty, she was not nude, her body generating a kind of flesh-toned skintight bodysuit. Perhaps it was for Izuku’s sense of modesty, since the woman herself had never been known to care about that.

The mass of claw finally resolved into a more clearly human shape. A variety of strange appearances and mutations all manifested, briefly before she took on a more familiar form. Of course! She can transform into people if she drinks their blood, and with her Quirk powered up… maybe she can shapeshift more freely! Izuku theorized fast, and then there was no more thought as Toga fully materialized, now over a hundred feet tall and leaning out sensually over the nearest building, using it and a few nearby ones to support her breasts. They were creaking beneath the weight.

“Thanks so much for your gift, my little Deku,” Himiko Toga purred, her voice rumbling. She now looked very much like a classical vampire queen out of a Western film… if you accounted for the pig tails, at least. She smiled loosely, showing off a mouthful of massive fangs individually longer than a car.

She liquified, suddenly vanishing from sight, and the streets flooded with her mass, and the sewers rumbled as she forced herself into them, and towards whatever boltholes the League of Villains had prepared for her.

Izuku stared blankly. That kiss was still occupying his mind, and he was having a hard time trying to force himself to focus on the dangers instead of how cute Toga was when she wasn’t an active peril.

Momo grabbed his shoulder. “Midoriya! We must return to the school and tell the authorities!”

“Right, right!” Izuku said, shaking himself. He bit his lip. “I just hope the other effects of One For All imbuing get to her as well…”

On her way to a place to recuperate, and show off her new gains to the whole League, Toga merrily cackled to herself in the sewers. “I did so well! I have a little bit of Deku’s power in me, now! Nothing can stop me from taking him for my own, nothing~”

She passed a small rat, it was limping.

She halted in her track, partially forming to loom over it and occupy the whole sewer with just a small part of her body. “Aww,” she said, gently picking it up without any forethought. “Do you need some help? Should I get a little bandage for you? Ah, perhaps I could sing you an inspirational song-”

She paused.

“Wait. Why do I suddenly want to be really helpful and give inspirational speeches to everyone…?

[thinkofduty]

[ Snowfly ]

The shuttle drops Orella and Sylvan far to the south of Dalmasca, through the harshest points of desert - yet they land some distance away still from the first few trees that make up the jungle.

(Sylvan Rain) The forest itself was incredibly thick. She could barely see a more than a few feet in front of her. Sylvan wasn't normally one to be alarmed but this certainly had her on the defensive. "Gods.. This is.. certainly something.." she says pushing her way through branches and leaves.

(Sylvan Rain) A twinkle in the sands catches her eye and she leans forward attempting to get a better look at it. "What's this..?"

(Orella Steelhand) "..." Orella doesn't exactly know what to make of the wall of trees. Foreboding doesn't quite seem like a great enough word for it. It's with some trepidation she wrenches her glance from it and over to Sylvan, although seeing her reaction she follows her gaze.

(Orella Steelhand) "What is it?"

(Sylvan Rain) "It's a stone of some sort.." She tilts her head and kneels down looking at it curiously. Her hand hovers above it but she hesitates.

(Orella Steelhand) And Orella walks past her, walks past the twinkle that she barely sees. "Come on. We're here for a man, not a stone."

(Sylvan Rain) Though she can't put her finger on it there's something almost pulling her toward it. Again, she hesitates, but she does pick it up.

(Orella Steelhand) Orella hesitates at the line of trees, lost in her own thoughts for a moment. When she talks, it sounds faraway, as though her mind isn't fully on whatever answer she's after. "You said you could track...?”

(Sylvan Rain) She nods, reaching out with her senses in order to see what may be out there in the forest. Hopefully, it was Grissom. "Let me see what I can sense.."

She can sense a noticeable presence to the south, and looks around.

(Sylvan Rain) "This way, it seems.." Sylvan was a bit surprised. She didn't have much trouble sensing him, if it was indeed him.

As the two women step into a clearing, the path suddenly shifts. Sylvan's sense of Grissom fades.

(Sylvan Rain) ".. I could just.. destroy it all." She looks to Orella, shrugging.

He now feels far away - and somewhere much further off to the east.

(Orella Steelhand) Orella's following Sylvan's lead, and following rather close on her heels. The wood's so dense she doesn't want to be left behind, and in a place like this... "I fear," she says softly, "my sword might be a little too large to swing properly in this place."

(Orella Steelhand) She twists her mouth, not happy with this turn of events. It feels claustrophobic, being here, so small, so overwhelmed, so-- "That'd take too much time," she says, though she's not averse to the idea. "Ugh- how in Rhalgr's cursed name are we meant to tell where the hell he is?"

(Sylvan Rain) She suddenly turns feeling the shift in his presence. ".. Wait. He's on the move.. east. It's possible I could lose him if he gets too far."

(Orella Steelhand) "Move." and Orella's striding ahead, stops, turns to look at her. "Come on. Don't let him get away."

Gradually, they hear something else come into view: harsh footsteps crunching on leaves.

(Orella Steelhand) At the sound of footsteps, Orella bristles, and throws a hand out to grab whatever part of Sylvan she can reach. "Down," she hisses. "Is it him?"

Whoever it is may or may not be Grissom - but it's a Garlean soldier in the garb of the IVth Legion. They're staggering, crying out.

"F-Follow the snowflies. Follow the snowflies. They gather where the dark runs strongest. Follow the snowflies. Follow the snowflies. Follow the snowflies..."

(Sylvan Rain) "You hear that..?"

(Orella Steelhand) Orella turns to Sylv, looking severe. "You stay down. Hidden. Don't call out, don't make any indication you're here. Got that?"

(Sylvan Rain) Sylvan shrugs and sighs, figuring she has some sort of plan. "If you say so."

(Orella Steelhand) Orella nods at Sylv firmly, and then stands, carefully moves out of cover, and approaches the soldier. "You," she says coldly, in the harsh tongue of Garlemald. "What's your situation, soldier?"

"He... he…Tell Gabranth he was wrong. Tell him we... we shouldn't be here... he's not worthy, we're none of us worthy..."

(Sylvan Rain) ".. I am.. starting to think this won't be a simple capture."

(Orella Steelhand) She frowns again, takes a step forward, and appropriates what she hopes is a tone a commanding officer might adopt. "Pull yourself together, man. What happened?"

"Grissom's gone mad. He killed the others... I think... I saw him..." The soldier only blubbers here. "Need to get home."

Orella Steelhand motions at Sylvan to join her. Clearly, the man's no real threat, and the soldier coughs up a gush of blood, choking.

(Orella Steelhand) "We're here to deal with him," she says, a little softer. "Where is Grissom?"

(Sylvan Rain) Sylvan says nothing, but suddenly remembers the stone she had picked up. Her eyes wander down to the pouch she had put it in, and suddenly she had a thought that almost made her stomach drop. Could it be..?

Sylvan Rain seems lost in thought.

The soldier merely points a shaking hand toward the path from where they had just come. "Follow the snowflies. Follow the snowflies..."

And soon you see them, everywhere: tiny little insects moving about in swarms, far above your heads.

(Sylvan Rain) "Where the hells did those come from..?"

Orella Steelhand sighs, even as she follows his direction, and lets him go with a surprisingly soft "On your way home, soldier."

The soldier nods, coughs again, and expires; they fall to the forest floor and immediately dissolve into aether.

(Sylvan Rain) ".. I do not like this. I cannot even sense a trace of his aether left in the ground or trees."

(Orella Steelhand) "Nothing at all?"

(Sylvan Rain) Again, she reaches out around her. This time she reaches deeper into the aether. "There is.. something puzzling. A feeling in this place that is unsettling."

(Sylvan Rain) "I suppose all we can do is follow the flies.."

The woods get deeper and darker still, and sure enough, the snowflies grow in number as the forest deepens - though they follow no natural pattern that you can see.

(Sylvan Rain) "Are we certain we are not in one of the Seven Hells?"

(Orella Steelhand) The more they walk, the more irritated Orella's becoming. "Could very well be," she grumbles, and stops. "Can you sense him? Anywhere? At all? Fuck off," and she swats at one of the many, many snowflies.

The wood itself is so oppressive, so stifling that it cannot be improving their moods. There's something horridly eerie about it, particularly as the place gets darker and denser and fuller with flies. Until all you can hear is buzzing, and no sound remains of the leaves.

(Sylvan Rain) It seemed their dearly departed soldier friend was at least telling the truth in some capacity. "The good news is it seems he was not lying about following the flies. The bad news is I notice that the sounds around us aside from the flies are.. fading away.." She pauses, going no further.

The Leo stone, sensing Sylvan Rain's discomfort, softly glows. She staggers.

(Sylvan Rain) ".. What was that?" A sudden feeling ran through her body that momentarily caused her to become weak.

(Orella Steelhand) Orella sighs again, squints up at the flies. "Alright, I've had enough of this," she mutters, and takes another step forward, and takes a deep breath to yell. "SHOW YOURSELF, GRISSOM."

Everything goes still. It's utterly silent - like a Gyr Abanian crypt.

(Sylvan Rain) Sylvan takes a few steps backward. "This is.."

Then there's a low, unearthly groan, like a settling tree, and something massive in the distance stirs.

Orella Steelhand draws her sword, not at all content with having so little space to swing, but wanting its comforting weight anyway.

It's a dragon covered in moss and rocks, its teeth ground almost to nubs - and it turns to the two women and roars.

(Sylvan Rain) ".. Lovely." Fighting in here would be a problem. Even if she did let loose and destroy the tight space around them it would catch flames and then things would be worse.

(Orella Steelhand) "Oh, for-" and she grits her teeth. "Fuck. You don't think that's Grissom?"

The creature raises a heavy paw as if to knock them both from their feet.

(Sylvan Rain) "I am thinking it isn't!" This situation was looking unavoidable. Sylvan centered herself and took in a deep breath. She gathered what aether she could from the surrounding area to empower her and she moves off to the left quickly.

(Orella Steelhand) Orella doesn't even hesitate, just throws herself aside, sword still out. It snags on a branch, but she's not willing to leave it behind, and she tugs it sharply through the bush.

The moment Sylvan draws upon the aether, the dragon roars louder. The aether supply is cut off, leaving a strange sensation radiating in its wake.

Sylvan Rain staggers.

(Sylvan Rain) "Ah!! What..? I can't.. I can't gather aether..!"

(Orella Steelhand) Orella glances over at her, growls in frustration.  "Stay back, then," she says, and pushes her way out of the brush again to grip the sword tightly and stare up at the dragon.

(Sylvan Rain) "Orella.." Suddenly she realizes what she suspected was true, looking down to the stone in her pouch. ".. This is auracite!"

The dragon finally looses its raised paw to strike them both, and misses.

Sylvan Rain rolls off to the side again, looking to the pouch and opening it up. Like earlier though, she hesitates. "..."

(Orella Steelhand) "Make up your mind!" Orella snaps, even as she darts forward to stab at the dragon's brought-down paw. "I'm not going to take this fucking thing down by myself whatever you do!"

(Sylvan Rain) Before trying the stone she wants to try and see what she can do on her own. She closes the pouch and dashes forward, throwing all the power she can into her right fist.

That, if nothing else, hurts it; it was so busy dodging Orella's strike that it takes Sylvan's completely.

(Sylvan Rain) It appeared she still had enough strength to manage some kind of damage. Sylvan rears back her left fist, gathering what aether was in her body once more.

It roars again, this time in anger. The beast shifts its bulk around to swing its tail - and upon it is a giant boulder.

Sylvan Rain flips herself backward, landing ready for the next blow. She leaps forward and extends her leg, attempting an overhead kick.

The creature smacks Sylvan Rain out of the air.

Sylvan Rain rolls off to the side, gasping. "Gah!!"

(Orella Steelhand) Orella closes the gap between herself and the dragon, and jabs up with the sword, hoping to at least graze its throat.

Sylvan Rain stands, collecting herself as best she can. While she landed two good hits she was fading quickly. While Orella was doing what she could to hold back the dragon Sylvan decided to use the stone. She reaches into the pouch and grips it tightly, preparing for whatever may happen.

The blow slices through the creature's jaw; there's still some life to it. It reaches down to chomp Orella.

(Orella Steelhand) Orella jumps back, out of the way, though she's sprayed with a hefty amount of blood. It's the opening Sylvan is probably looking for.

(Sylvan Rain) Bracing herself, she draws what aether she can from the stone as she would normally from nature. The power would be overwhelming, she knew that, but she also knew there was no preparing for what was to come.

That power comes as naturally as aether, and it burns with a harsh sort of fire; the trees nearby seem to shrink back from it.

Sylvan Rain channels her inner strength and feels an intense burst of power rush through her like never before. Her eyes widen and her body shakes. It's so powerful she can barely contain it, yet at the same time her strength continues to grow without overflowing.

Sylvan Rain delivers a confident smirk.

(Sylvan Rain) "/Much/ better." There's a sudden feeling of total confidence. Like she could take on an entire Garlean legion and crush them herself. "You'll find yourself regretting choosing us for a snack."

Sylvan Rain takes a moment to breathe deeply, tilting her head at the beast. She chuckles and shoots forward possibly feeling lighter than she ever has. With blinding speed she approaches and leaps into the air above the beast, gathering a huge amount of aether between her hands. She pushes it downward onto the dragon, forming a beam of pure aetheric energy that would consume it.

The dragon crumples - and, like the Garlean soldier, it dissolves into the aether.

(Orella Steelhand) Orella had taken a hand off her blade to wipe blood from her eyes, and... finds she can only stare.

Sylvan Rain delivers a confident smirk.

(Orella Steelhand) "Well, shit," she says, deadpan.

Sylvan Rain takes in a deep breath, letting her eyes flutter shut.

(Orella Steelhand) Orella doesn't move, aside from resting the sword over her shoulder, not fully putting it away, and eyes Sylvan warily. "... You okay?"

(Sylvan Rain) "It seems these are indeed as powerful as they're rumored to be." Sylvan looks down to the auracite and puts it into her pouch. "I am. I feel.. perfect, if I am being honest."

The snowflies are still gathering, but they seem to be moving onward... away from the fire, to someplace darker.

(Sylvan Rain) "I suppose those will lead us to Grissom.."

(Orella Steelhand) "... Hm." and Orella follows them with her eyes briefly, before looking back at where the dragon had been. "... Can't exactly say I trust them. You feel anything now?"

Sylvan Rain peers deep within the aether of this area using her new power, but even still Grissom is hard to lock down. "Odd.. Even though I can sense him I can't pinpoint him, but he's still there.."

(Orella Steelhand) Something occurs to Orella, and she frowns. "... This might sound stupid," she says, slowly, and reaches up into the air to see if she can pluck a snowfly between her fingers. "... You don't think /these/ are Grissom, do you?"

(Sylvan Rain) "That.. actually is not a bad assumption. I would imagine it /is/ possible.." Sylvan looks around at the flies curiously noting they are unlike any she'd seen before.

(Orella Steelhand) "How easy you reckon it'll be to squish 'em all?"

The flies flit away, numbering in the thousands with that swarm alone.

(Sylvan Rain) ".. Give me enough time to gather aether and I could level a good part." Sylvan jokes. Is it really a joke though?

There is another clearing in the area beyond.

Sylvan Rain notices the sudden change. "Well they're off somewhere!"

(Orella Steelhand) They wander together warily toward the other clearing. Orella's not about to start shouting, this time. She's learned a lesson, for once.

Sylvan Rain looks to the auracite, wondering if it can guide them somehow.

When they set foot into the space, something shifts. To the both of them, who have grown up in remote Abalathia, it feels as though they've entered a liminal space - somewhere preternaturally forbidden.

Orella Steelhand frowns. "Feels like someone's just walked over my grave."

(Sylvan Rain) "This.. A place where mortals should not be..?" At least that's what it felt like to her. Every sense of hers was telling her to turn back.

Within that space lies what might have once been a Garlean camp. There are scanning devices, radio transmitters, tents and even supplies. But all those in the vicinity are dead.

(Sylvan Rain) "This place is stained with tainted aether.."

(Orella Steelhand) "... I don't like this." and Orella casts her gaze around, trying to see if anything alive yet remains.

 In fact, the bodies themselves are not bodies at all: they are the uniforms of allen soldiers.

(Orella Steelhand) "... Sylvan."

Sylvan Rain reaches out with her newly restored aetheric sense. Certainly there is a lingering feeling of death. Clean aether almost flees in terror from this area.

They bear an unfamiliar insignia - but upon closer inspection, they are those of the 9th Bureau.

(Sylvan Rain) ".. This is truly an evil place."

(Orella Steelhand) "... Any other time I'd suggest looking through their things, but..."

Sylvan Rain slowly takes steps forward. While the presence of evil is strong there is no feeling of immediate danger.

There is no way forward. This is, it seems, the end of the line.

(Orella Steelhand) Orella, at a loss, simply looks at Sylvan. "... I'm not afraid to admit when I'm out of my depth," she says. "I don't like this. I don't know what to do."

(Sylvan Rain) Sylvan listens carefully but hears nothing aside from the two of them. Her eyes fall on the circle but she stays a good few feet from it. With another deep breath she attempts to feel what she can from it.

And now that Orella is in the place where the dark runs strongest... she, too, finds something.

(Orella Steelhand) She turns her head from side to side, trying to make some sense of it all, to clear her mind of the fog and flies, and in so doing something catches her eye. She's not sure what, not sure why. She's not sure why she didn't notice before. The toe of her sollerets are nudging the very edge of a stone, and she bends to pick it up, to turn it over, to-

And her breath catches.

Sylvan Rain follows her eyes, noting how her attention was suddenly stolen away. "Hm?"

Orella doesn't hear her. The longer she looks, the more her vision swims, until a single hot tear splashes down against her thumb.

(Sylvan Rain) "Another one..?" Sylvan again looks down at the one she had found earlier. "Has he lost them all..? Or are we supposed to find these?"

(Orella Steelhand) The cacophony in Orella's head is too thick to be penetrated, and she stays crouched upon the ground, stone in hand, mouth dry, staring, staring, staring. Her lips move, but no sound comes forth.

(Sylvan Rain) Watching Orella she slowly moves toward her from her side, noting how absorbed she is in the stone. "Orella.." she says clearly, trying to get her attention. Though the auracite had certainly had an influence on Sylvan this seemed to be something worse.

(Orella Steelhand) Orella jerks, almost guiltily, and stands with the stone clearly visible, not trying to hide it. "... More Auracite, I'd wager," she says, and she's clearly trying for her usual self, though she sounds a little shaken. "Just how much was this bastard carrying?"

(Sylvan Rain) A small sigh of relief upon hearing her respond. She looks at the stone, clearly puzzled. "This is starting to seem deliberate.."

There are plenty of notes and documents scattered around as well.

(Orella Steelhand) Orella's glance is stolen by the stone again, but only briefly, and she looks around the clearing as she tucks it into her pocket. "... Go through the tents. I'll check the b- the clothes."

Sylvan Rain nods.

Some of the uniforms look to have been slashed. The soldiers' ranks vary, but they contain no identifying markers - fitting for those serving an intelligence bureau.

"Anything?" Orella calls, still riffling through pockets just in case. She's not expecting to find anything - particularly not if these are van Gabranth's men doing their job properly, but it's still worth doing.

There are plenty of documents - even documents hidden away, and tools for reading encrypted digital files.

Sylvan lists off the various items she finds to Orella and emerges from the tent holding what she can. "Not sure if any of this will help us but there's all sorts of documents and.. Devices."

"Devices? Never been any good with 'em." and Orella gives up, tosses the last shredded uniform down and marches herself over to where Sylvan is looking. "Grab them anyway. Someone might be able to make head or tail of them when we get back."

Sylvan packs them up in a large (for a Hyur anyway) container that had been emptied out in the tent and lifted it with ease. "Hopefully someone will be able to figure out what the hells is going on.." She looks over her shoulder toward the circle one last time, feeling unsettled.

The path out of the forest is no less easy... but somehow, the two of them together are able to avoid the worst of getting lost.

[restlessmuseum]

nomen amen (or “paraphernalia”: back by popular demand)

                                    (where books compete for space with pottery)

We were already halfway through interminability. Away all redundancy of deficiency from the page, the tear from the past to mend us about to rampage. This far we had not said anything good but perfection required, in tone and content, inexplicable. (1) I found the crux in the posture to device, like an impostor happens in his tender, (2) a damage done like the wrapping paper of a ducked present. (3) Under the stance of unison, the shallower I read between the lines the further I'm improved from the time of my oversight, (4) the unison becomes the sound she phews down to my very being, like but the rest I forgot about... Sorry, got it wrong. Actually, I wanted to continue this something started spreads ago, but the prose screeches and cackles around its ineliminable inexactitude. I really don't feel like resuming anymore, or should I say, I'm done boggedly running after the end of my premises. Yes something happened, something to investigate in a whole other direction. So, gonna take all, this will be the first part. I wish I could express revolutionary philosophisms, I thought I could be a poet because I'm unable to be an essayist and a novelist. I'm not good at public speaking. I entered Tumblr to be found by publishers and make money: I had a system of truths and truly nothing else to say. Besides, what did this idea of klein Lebensdarbietung mean? Is the text doing its characters or are these ones setting out their own words? Text's abolition of today, which is nothing but "the sentences already written, the sentences that people say, the sentences yet to write; verses, words, spacings, texts' dissemination, whatever you want, about the purely sign-linguistic-textual" (cit.) verbatim et literatim, and here is another example of my strugglings to go on properly. In any event it is clear that we are moved when required, except the exempts. (5) It is always the most unexpected time to undergo the aha entanglement. In constant foresight I guiltily prepare to hindsee the neglect and with confambulatory prowess I succumb to the development in this underpass of construes. How much do we match with our sounds? — asking myself. In this respect I'm afraid to surprise me onstage like the surrenedered one (and here onpage, ah foolishness, as playwright). But if I leaf compulsively through hundreds of pages, that's to find my words not belonging to me, and the others to fight (me) with. As I am nearing the open conversation, I make up my mind never to read me. Tons of notes, reproaches and scratchpads. Tons of work to do. And I have to get rid of the old adjustments once and for all. (6) Electra the yet-signed. You like the simple words, the ones you recognize already written, the crystalline syllabification that enoculates the wholeness of an order babbling sibyllinity downstream. You carry on with the work of literature: how the body absconds at the risk of space and time with them. Imperfect doubling, mirror images, and repetition in her practice. Topical scratches. Interceptors sought in everyday life — like unspeakables — that she then distorts to create the straight path in reverse. Poetry will not touch her, because poetry is just the unwritten complexity going wrong side along the process of self-becoming, a recent installation, midway between marble and corporal desires in an ascending scale of hardness. (7) Listening to the closest friends, the process of self-becoming could only linger primarily in the sight of aesthetic, then morality, then religious status quo. But friends come always as a closer, blind alley, at the end of tears: a misunderstanding at first, then never read enough. (8) It is often the case that the practice of consensually agreeing to one's own mental performance and self-image by means of meddled languages and lineages may become a genuine bondage of freedom. The restrained partner can derive any drift in the set of possibilities so that we use to say the doing is more important than the outcome. (9) The doing is in uncomfortable or painful positions, for example as a punishment: then, easily it tends to be forgotten, because unforgivable. That's why the effect is the same as a verbal collage, but 1) rips are often behind schedule or on borrowed time, "out of sync with the fade" (cit.) hearth of what seems to be the Pentecostal tongues of fire; and 2) metaphors like "the rope of telephone charades" or "the coils of something wound in the form of a revolution to come is the licking of sugar injury, met since the starting point" are not allowed. "Real me is way more concerned with" (cit.) the Transcaspian line that follows the pattern of a crosswording of the desert. (10) Rather than holding on to me tight I choose to distance myself from what I'm being forced to watch daily. Dies irae dies illa desirable. Without prejudice to this last inescapable point, the first issue represents the Derridean crux of the matter, about which I will be saying something bad in the wrongest moments, since my voice is as effective as my unsuccessful rewrites. I just want, by using the instruction books, the border of this drama, accelerated and hence trespassed in time into ridiculousness, to be experienced as the comedy it is. There is a hour of the wolf and there is a hour the wolf is afraid of. When the time is right I'd like you all to be safe to be spared in my turn from this construction beyond good and better. (11) Here you shine white with noise. "Sonorous cobweb" (cit.) made of only one thread, the unbent line of homeostasis at long last kept in crisis. (12) This narration should have had a different common thread. "And yet", imprint, "it moves" (cit.) as sensible prose. Prose of proses. The dispelled thing, spilled on Tumblr, disseminated. The seedbed: descendants, everspring off, family. The planting postdisposed. All going as planned. (13)   When I know that I don't know where to start a carving, I start a list of synonyms or unyoke a fable from a series of rereadings. What excommunication if you can't subvert the strainer? (14) Once upon a time Electra, beloved only sign of her father, has a brother. Agamemnon possesses the actuality and practicality of the dead: he wants to see water circulate water in laminar rheumatology and freshness sculptures out of tempered air. [director's note: the Argolis' scene isn't even entitled to melt!]. She eats anise candies and unwarmed foods without a problem. She is so lovely when she urinates first thing in the morning, holding the head in her hands, graeaean ownership. Yes, I'm worthy of attending to the offertory on the altar of love. So many congratulations against my behalf that the opposite seems true. (15) "A woman with long hair is not a simple point of view" (cit.). She's got a prompt night's sleep and reasonable. We cling to angelic accidents. We are clung to our soundtrack. (16) Indeed love is not "the panic subsidence onto the body" (cit.) [director's note: can we let the body become finally soaked in real pornography and never mind, here?] but sheer faith for a symbolic subject who's shattered fully loyal. Intermediate sprint of a life midpoint crossroads that lead at the same destination to flee from. (17) Because, as it goes, her staple is such a volitive confidence meaning to me the wait of the powers that created us, the coincidence of both of us makes our skewness on my side of the derangement. Averted word, when addressed. I am a bad Greek at the time of Christianity and a bad Christian on such dysfunctional divertissements. Who knows how ethically important it is today? I retain it, ending up forgetting everything else, and am lookin' very bad. (18) Of course the movement is diminished in certain directions; the style more flattened upon my chosen sickness that we now have no use for, after the setting of the starting stances; I suffer from more severe erections. An acquired kurtosis distributes my monodimensional remarks as the fourth cumulants in order of precedence. Still a lot of exercise to get. Busy like the evermentioned forgettables I'm at that stage where it's difficult for me to even do difficult things. Wrongstaged, I can't compete. I only challenge. (19) Therefore coincident like the two norths of which one is sinking liminal in the perfectly unsaid of your perfect cues. In one fell swoop you pone the part and mastery. And in the next. And the apnea for the answer back. Teeth gouged by the opposite of words in formation for a smile. The winky face par excellence. Here's the real spectator of my vocalized character. I wedge the self with a puny malapropistic idioticon to spread now that I'm a simplex person. As long as I continue to improve in (furtive, it has to be) apprenticeship I'm losing abilities. Old mistakes reappear, no inspiration from mumpsimuses. (20) Where adults flutter, she, disemvowelled and free from frills, spoken by the plural to be inscribed in the Sophoclean, in the Euripidean, in the Hofmannsthalean, in the Yourcenarian script, lost in tv shows and blatant phone calls, is, for me, abused of notations but who am I to denounce such an effusive happiness? There's nothing she can't Netflix. (21) No banana peel on the slope of her singularity — reversible up to a point, interchangeable up to a point, genderbending up to a point from the same side of view. Slotting minims in the same tone as the main characters. That the same out-of-turness is imbricated. (22)

Virtuosity was painlessly flaying the secret from the kids. This is tragedy. We all know what everyone should have said, sorrows come only after. We see each other for sure and too well. Find your trace in the deep of your prompter's heart. Dimmable glow of ancient times. Under guillotine percentages, under curtain at half-mast, under the veils in the dance of the seven veils. What am I trying to say? (23)

In the floodlights' gloom, without changing the rules of the game, exit khorós. With whom would you listen to you speaking? (24) Woods of brightness wherever, it makes me want to expect your coming deaf-handed right therever, the braindomed untrodden order of phrases where roommouths around it are opening. (25) A substratum, but rather as two shadows they finally vest themselves without amendment, and just drag on this semi-detached ward where it just doesn't feel like our theater anymore. So that there may well be the laetum and lethean occurrence of a new polarization. (26) It is no coincidence that here you're always cold and pale. What a cutie! (27) But maybe that's just too much information. Now would be the time to shut up even more. Already being in the manner for that: being at one with the template versus falling back into the patient subjectivity to agency, to make war and to make love with the weapons of the unconditional surrender. The book is that inferring the timbre of each Klagesprache. (28) Like the current situation could return to equilibrium because of an indefinite vocabulary which is still fighting us pressurers. We come across the unilaterality of it every day. Its constitution. (29) But infinity alive doesn't exist. We can approximate it in the endless rummaging and musing. (30) Approximation is worth nothing. We get sick for the words that once beguiled us. The limits of infancy don't set. And now I just -ess the world in voluntary silence nonexperienced. (31) With plex I brux my certainty and centuries. Party time abounds. (32) Clause: applause. (33)

[maiden-of-wolves]

Fox & Ariel - Persistence

“Meeting” Scene Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Battle of Haven Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 The Winter Palace - Start The Winter Palace - Formal Introductions The Winter Palace - Secret Gathering The Winter Palace - Rift Battle The Winter Palace - Settling Caer Oswin

A tiny kind of fluffy thing? A particular thing just needed to happen.

It had become somewhat of a comfortable routine: she would finish with her daily regiments and whatever projects she had going with Dagna for the day and would sneak off to the kitchens to see what she could scrounge up for dinner. Sometimes she would just get a little thing for herself, but other evenings— almost exclusively when she knew there was no game of wicked grace planned— she would spend a fair amount of time there to cook a little something and brew some tea. It was mostly a source of amusement for the kitchen staff now and some younger folks did their best to help her when she was struggling.

Today she’d managed something fairly complex for her: baking banana bread. She wrapped her tasty project in cloth to keep it warm for a little bit before stowing it in a basket. A few apples, two knives and a pair of plates were placed in next. After thinking it over, she decided to move things around a bit to allow for a small pitcher of warm tea and two cups. Trying to hold two cups while balancing the basket would have been a bad idea. Plus, she’d be going down a lot of stairs, so it was best not to risk anything she didn’t have to.

The second part, and certainly the point to her cooking at all, was to visit with Fox. While she still had feelings for the man that went deeper than friendship she’d come to the conclusion that he did not feel the same way. Still, she still wanted to be around him as much as was comfortable. And at least this way she knew he was eating well for at least one meal of the day.

On this particular evening, she did not find her path down the stairs blocked by a resting cat as it sometimes was and the journey down to the Skyhold basement library was uneventful. “I hope you’re at a place you can stop,” she called as she neared the archway to the library. Fox was almost always down here at this time, so she was fairly certain she wouldn’t be embarrassing herself by talking to air. Even with the prior warning, she wrapped her knuckles on the stone as she wandered inside with a small smile parting her lips.

“I’ve got something a little different today. Hopefully it’s good,” she chuckled, realizing that it was probably a bit self-deprecating, but she did honestly have a only mediocre track record when it came to successful cooking. “If not, I brought apples and tea as usual.”

“I’m sure it’s lovely, thank you,” Fox said. He looked up from his work and tidied his papers to the side.

Ariel smiled, but shook her head. He was always so nice about her shortcomings and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe that was why she couldn’t stop visiting him. He didn’t tease her, they just… talked. And she always looked forward to it even if they occasionally had disagreements. All that said, she scanned the desk he sat at before finding a relatively empty space to put down the basket. She wandered over to a chair she’d long since dragged down here so she could sit, since the last time she’d just flopped down on the floor next to him to talk he asked why she wanted to sit on the floor. It was a little plush since she tended to stay for a least a little while and large enough for her to sit with her legs crossed an an odd mixture of indian and lotus position that was simply her most comfortable and natural way of sitting at this point.

As she leaned up and around to pull out the pitcher and the cups to pour the tea for them, she spotted something different on his desk. It looked like the lantern he’d given her, and later she discovered everyone in the inner circle as well, but it was bigger and the spark was a different color. She gestured to the new item after pouring tea into their cups. “Are you refining the lantern design?”

Fox looked up from the basket and blinked. “The lan- Oh. Oh, no, this is different style. I just hadn’t made one recently.”

Ariel quirked a brow at his phrasing. “A different style?” she echoed, tilting her head slightly as she turned her attention fully onto the item to take in the details. There were intricate designs woven into the metal of the entire sphere and she examined it in silence for a few moments, gingerly tracing some of the pattern with a fingertip. There was a dull itch, so she knew it was just as magical as the lantern she already had from him, but it didn’t burn. “Well,” she said as she finally pulled away and sat up. “It’s very pretty. Must have taken you a while.”

“Thank you,” Fox said. In time with his words the lantern brightened slightly and the light shifted color to be slightly warmer. “The casing is Dagna’s work, of course, but she was delighted to work with my design.”

Ariel’s gaze flickered between the lantern to him several times, head tilting even further than it had been. “...did it just…?” she started, but then just shook her head and reached in the basket for a plate, a knife and the cloth-wrapped loaf. She needed to test that the attempt wasn’t deserving of being fed to Leliana’s crows. Despite her previous control, once she had cut a thin piece off to test and surprisingly found it to be fairly tasty she found herself looking at the new lantern again. “Is that connected to you, Fox?”

Fox took a sip of his tea. “Indeed. Watch.” He gestured to the lamp before narrowing his eyes at his cup. A deep crease formed in his brow and the edge of his mouth started to curl and the lamp glowed a violent red in response. After a breath, he released the emotion with a sigh.

She would have laughed at the idea that his example was him getting angry at his tea, but she knew surely there was nothing about tea that could possibly bother him enough to get that much of an expression from him. Ariel blinked as she watched the lamp interact with apparently his emotions, her mouth opening slightly in both surprise and awe. She could feel the magic itching through her arm and raising the hairs at the back of her neck as it changed color so it was clearly more powerful than the other lantern. “That’s really neat!” she chirped happily, eyes wide and glittering with the excitement of discovery. There were so many questions to its operation, though, and she didn’t hesitate to ask them even as she cut up a couple pieces of her bread. “Does it take energy to affect it? Is it always attached to you? Like, even if you went on a mission could I check on this and see if you’re okay?”

Fox laughed and pulled an apple out of the basket. He cut it up easily - and he looked to have a professional flare - but Ariel knew from the magebane incident that it was at least partially his magic’s doing. “It’s passive, but it also passively takes my energy. Yes, it’s always attached to me. As for if you can check on it… Like as not, I’ll have it with me. It has more functions than just light and even though it’s a passive drain, it’s a lower mana cost than casting new heating spells each night.”

Ariel smiled as he laughed, the sound putting her at ease. She took in all the answers with little nods of her head, but when he noted that he wouldn’t leave it here she snapped her fingers and put on a small pout. “Dangit,” she sighed. “Ah well,” she added after only a breath, pulling out the other plate and putting several slices of her baked good on it before gently placing it in front of him. “At least this turned out okay. Not even crispy.”

“I take it from the phrasing it’s not supposed to be?” Fox asked as he took a piece of the bread. He bit into it and then nodded. “Rather heavy, but not too sweet.”

“Well, I mean… it’s bread,” Ariel offered with a nervous laugh. “Kinda hard sometimes to make bread not heavy.” She finished the piece that she had nibbled on to make sure it was okay. “I’m just glad it’s good enough. I saw a couple shipments of bananas the other day and thought about doing this once they’d run really low so I didn’t interrupt the kitchen staff much. So, tadaa.” She let her voice take on a sing-song quality with the last word, gesturing lazily to the loaf. “Banana bread.”

She leaned back once she’d cut up half an apple and munched away on a slice while quietly observing him. “So,” she said once she’d swallowed, “have you made any progress down here with all this paperwork you’re married to?”

He considered her question as he ate. “It is, perhaps, a task with no clear end. Some things have been completed, but it is like moving sand from one beach to another.”

“Are the records secrets?” Ariel asked after taking care of another slice of apple. She’d stopped trying to pry when, every time Fox wasn’t down here, the books and papers were missing. But the way he phrased it, that the task was endless, made her both worried and curious. “Wouldn’t it help if you had someone, or even multiple people, helping you go through them?”

Fox didn’t meet her eyes. “There is no proper way to explain what to look for. Further, the contents are particularly distressing. You have enough of a burden on your heart without them.”

“And you don’t?” Ariel asked, the question falling from her lips before she could think better of it. “You carry just as much, since we’ve spoken about everything,” she reminded him. “More, considering your background.” She started on another slice, gaze averting from him for a little while as she chewed. She sighed before swallowing and looking back at him. “But I’ve learned that pushing you doesn’t help. Like pushing a cart sideways. Just… know that my offer to help is genuine, regardless of the difficulty.”

“Thank you, but this is something I must do.”

Ariel just shrugged and shook her head. She took a few sips of her tea before refilling it from the pitcher. It was lukewarm already, to her surprise. Another slice of her banana bread later and she felt like she had to break the silence with something. “Have you gotten any updates about the kids?” she asked him. “Is everybody okay? At this point things are settled enough around here that you could probably send Ivan back if you wanted to, if it were needed…”

That drew a full laugh out of Fox. “I think you’ve been rather focused. To answer your first question, I get an update every few days. As to the latter issue, he returns often handle business with the children before returning.”

She blushed a little, getting the distinct impression that he was laughing at her and it both irritated and concerned her. What was wrong with being concerned about an orphanage full of mage kids hidden away somewhere? A small frown pursed her lips and her brows knitted slightly even as she listened. “I guess that means that everyone’s okay, or at least well enough to send updates. That’s good. I don’t always see Ivan around but I guess I just didn’t think about him actually going anywhere.” Had he not laughed, she might have suggested that while Ivan was a good conversation partner she wanted to spend more time with him instead. As it was, however, she just sighed and tried not to beat herself up inwardly for being stupid about it as she cut up the other half of her apple to finish it off.

“Just because he’s not in your story, doesn’t mean he stops existing when you’re not around to see him,” Fox said.

Okay that was just unnecessary. Did she really come off that poorly? She seemed like some kind of supremely selfish creature that thought the world revolved around her or her perception? She stared at him as she finished her latest slice. “You’re not, either,” she reminded him, pointing at him with a new slice. “But I clearly don’t think you stop existing the moment you’re out of my sight or I can’t find you. Don’t know why you think I’d feel any differently about Ivan or anyone else for that matter. The kids weren’t and I’ve never seen seen or heard them and I was thinking about them enough to inquire. Taevel has been a good friend I didn’t know a thing about him being here. This world doesn’t revolve around what I know even though some days it can feel like it. I’ve long understood that. I live here now. Maybe I’m not as observant as other people, but that doesn’t mean I dismiss other people’s very existence just because I don’t see them.”

Whatever Fox thought about that, he kept to himself. Though he was silent, his lamp was still the same even, soft, blue-green glow it’d had when she first came down.

His silence was deafening and filled her with questions, but she remained seated and quiet long enough to finish her apple and calm down. Ariel knew he cared, after everything that had happened, so she had to remind herself of that. It was the dichotomy between how virtually anyone else in the inner circle saw her and apparently how he did that confused her. The only difference was how much she had told him about the ‘prophecy’. Well, that and her own feelings, she supposed. But those clearly didn’t change anything so they didn’t matter.

“Well, I guess I’ll leave you to your work,” she said, putting her plate and knife back into the basket after wrapping up her bread loaf again. She paused, holding it out as she realized she could offer it to him. “Did you want me to leave this for you?” she asked, deciding at least that was safe to ask. “I could leave a plate and knife too so you could cut it however you want.”

“I’m fine, but thank you. My room is next to the kitchens if I’m hungry later.”

“Okay then,” she breathed, carefully packing up everything. Once she’d tested the pitcher a bit to make sure it was secure, she looked back up at him. “Good luck, with all this,” she offered quietly before slipping the basket onto the crook of her arm.

She pulled the chair away against the wall again so that it wouldn’t be in his way if he needed to lean over his own desk for whatever reason. All that settled, she headed around the desk and towards the stairs. She was undecided on if she would keep the banana bread, let the crows have it even though it turned out well or ask Cole if someone would like some. In any case, she had to deliver the basket back to the kitchen and she planned to swing by the tavern for at least one mug of ale or mead. Sleep would be much easier after that.

[tanadrin]

Reordberend

(Part 12 of ?; start; previous; next)

Some days later, they were taking turns sitting on a pile of rocks above the village, seeing how far they could throw stones. Leofe, despite never having been cyberized, or indeed never having even seen the inside of a modern aug clinic, easily outdistanced Katherine every time. Maybe her augs had been offline so long she was reverting to baseline. That was a worrying thought.

Leofe paused, rock in hand, and looked at her. “You know,” she said, “It’s astonishing how badly you speak.”

“I thought I was talk better now?” Katherine said.

“Better. But still, astonishing.” Leofe looked at her rock pensively for a moment, then threw it. It landed fully twice as far away as Katherine’s had.

“Even children don’t make any of the mistakes you do,” Leofe said. “You find the words easily enough. You just don’t know what to do with them.”

Katherine had gone to bed that night with a warm, satisfied glow. So she was making progress at least.

Despite his shyness at first, Leofric turned out to be a little more sociable than his sister, when he realized Katherine could understand him well enough.

“Don’t worry,” he said to her one day while they were fixing road-posts. “Leofe is sharp, but she means well.”

Katherine opted not to mention the incident with the knife.

“And you learn so quickly. She’s a good teacher, no? All the children love her.”

Katherine found that pretty hard to believe.

“Say to me,” Katherine said, “I not first outlander here to come, yes?”

“No,” said Leforic. “Not the first.”

“You know other? His name? When he come?”

“That was before I was born,” he said.

“Your parents?”

“I don’t know.” And I don’t want to talk about it, the tone of his voice added.

Trying to get any information out of Leofe or Leofric about the history of their people was like pulling teeth. They would acknowledge only that their people had not always lived in the Dry Valleys, the place they called the Stonedales. But they would not say how they had come here, or why they spoke a dead language, and why they shunned cyberization, or outside contact. And when Katherine approached the others in the village, they were even less helpful. The few people who had begun to acknowledge her existence at mealtimes started pointedly ignoring her again.

Katherine had never been so lonely in her life.

She did her best to take notes on the Dry Valleys People. She didn’t have her memory augs, or even anything to write with, and Leofe indicated the writing materials they did have were too precious to be wasted on the likes of Katherine. So she did her best to memorize things as they occurred to her, in the chanting fashion of Leofe’s people.

Lovely Leofe likes to argue; Lanky Leofric has a loping stride. From post to post he quickly passes, Races miles at a runner’s pace. Nine villages, known to me. In each a hundred in all their houses. Diet of meat and boiled mosses. Political organization? Possibly elders? Possibly patriarchal, by their pattern of names. Hunters, not herdsmen. Grow moss in the hills? Water from glaciers, hence village’s location.

Okay, so that one didn’t alliterate. But it was pretty obvious.

Even if he didn’t talk about history much, Leofric was a reliable source of gossip, especially at mealtimes.

“You see that one, next to my father? That’s his friend, Andrac.”

“Tall, big face hair?”

“Yes. He’s from two valleys over. He goes overland in the summers. They hunt, out on the ice.”

“On the ice? No animal on ice, yes?”

“They don’t hunt animals. They hunt dragons.”

Katherine wasn’t sure she’d heard that right. The word meant either dragons or worms.

“Hunt dragons?”

“Yes. You know, very big. Tough hide. Spit fire.”

Katherine struggled to form the right question in her mind, frustrated that she didn’t know the words.

“But, but. Dragons not. Is not. Dragons not be.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“Are not dragons on, on, uh, on dirt.”

“No, on the ice. Like I said. Overland.” He gestured vaguely up the valley.

“Ah!” Katherine let out a cry of frustration. “No hunt is not thing be!”

Leofric shook his head.

“No, sorry, I really don’t understand.”

“Ugh, forget it,” Katherine said in English. “If he hunts dragons, he hunts goddamn dragons.”

“Oh, you see her?” Leforic pointed to someone else. “She says she’s a witch. She’s not really, she just wants people to leave her alone.”

Katherine turned this cryptic statement over in her mind, but didn’t bother trying to interrogate it. No use. She did her best to remember though.

Witches are lonely, Leofric says. And Andrac dares dragons to hunt, Out on the ice, Antarctica’s wastes.

She tried to ask Leofric as much as she could. Even if he couldn’t or wouldn’t talk about his people’s history, maybe he could talk about their present.

“How village arrange?”

“Sorry?”

“How you make leader? Er… king? Lord?”

Leofric laughed. “No, we don’t have a king.”

“What you have?”

Leofric didn’t seem to understand the question. “We don’t have anything like that.”

God dammit, she thought. How the hell did you say “formal or informal power structures” in a language you barely spoke?

“How you answer question as group?”

“You mean, how do we know things? With books. And history. We’re not stupid, you know.”

“No, no.” Katherine shook her head. “How you make, uh, make decision?”

“Decisions about what?”

“About everything. About where house, about how much food. About, uh, about to hunt dragon?”

“We do as we want. We are a free people, aren’t we?”

Katherine didn’t really know how to answer that.

A free people fared south, Over the sea to an icy shore. Here they hoped a haven to find, In stony halls on stony ground. Why the hell would they come here To this frozen shithole, the barren buttock Of God’s creation?

Ugh. That didn’t even scan. Whatever.

Leofe’s lessons continued unabated, and with no diminishing sense of urgency. Katherine now tracked her days in verses and paragraphs and pages, not in days. One evening, right when they finished the Gospel of Luke, Leofe announced a sudden end to the lesson, despite the fact it wasn’t even dinnertime.

“So soon?” Katherine asked. “But what about killing me so the snow doesn’t have to?”

Leofe shrugged. “You’re doing better,” she said. “Not so lazy lately. You can afford a night of rest. And tomorrow you have to get up early.” Then she had turned, and abruptly departed from the room.

Despite her encouragement, Katherine could not help but feel uneasy. That night, she tossed and turned; got up for a few hours to sit over the gospel-book and go over a few passages that had given her trouble; then gone back to bed and slept badly. She was awake as soon as Leofe entered her room that morning, no boot-prodding necessary, though it was hours earlier than usual. Leofe waited for her to get dressed in silence.

“What’s going on?” Katherine asked. But Leofe didn’t answer.

They went out from the village. Katherine realized to her surprise that she had completely lost track of how long she had been in Antarctica. The sun was low in the sky--far lower than it had been when she’d set out. Perhaps any day now, it would sink below the horizon for good, and the six-month-long Antarctic night would begin. Katherine had already looked forward to that long darkness with uneasiness before she set out from Dublin. Now, cut off as she was from the outside world, it seemed even more ominous.

Leofe led her out along one of the paths that led up into the hills; but Katherine soon realized this was not one they had taken before. It bent back on itself repeatedly, avoiding climbing too steeply, and she could not see where it led; finally, as they approached a great cleft in the hillside, she saw that it disappeared into the gap. Leofe led her to the cleft, and pointed into it. Katherine followed her hand. The cleft was the opening of a cave. Not a natural cave. There was a narrow, low passage, cut with tools, that quickly vanished in darkness. Leofe produced a candle from her coat, and stepped into the mouth of the cavern. Sheltering the candle from the draft, she lit it and beckoned Katherine to follow.

Katherine was not given to panic in small spaces, but she couldn’t help but feel a little anxious in the constricting space. It sloped down gently for twenty paces, then began to rise once it was deep inside the hill. As they walked up the slope, Katherine realized there was a dim light coming from ahead of them. They were not the first ones here. After another thirty paces, the passage ended suddenly; it opened into a great, cavernous chamber.

They entered the chamber and took their seats at a stone bench along the rear wall. The bench, like the chamber itself, had been carved out of the rock of the hillside. Painstakingly, Katherine imagined; given the technological proclivities of the Dry Valleys People, it must have been the work of hundreds of bodies, over years. There was space for two hundred people to stand around comfortably here. Benches lined three walls, and in a circle around the middle of the room, narrow pillars rose sharply up to the ceiling. A cleft in the ceiling, some natural fissure of rock, admitted a small sliver of sky, but mostly the room was lit by lamps and candles set in alcoves and on spurs of stone around the room and on the pillars themselves.

But the chamber was not lined with unadorned rock. The floor had been grooved with sharp, tile-like patterns that radiated outward from the middle of the room. When they reached the walls and the feet of the pillars, they contorted themselves, and twisted suddenly into sinuous shapes that wound back into each other, like vines or nests of serpents, all the way to the ceiling. And on the far wall, opposite the entrance, where the floor was a little raised like a platform, the curling patterns opened up, and united to form the outline of seventeen great portraits, each as high as a person, each different in appearance. A few were men, a few were women. A few, Katherine couldn’t quite tell. Each head wore what looked like a crown; each pair of eyes was shut, as if deep in thought or sleeping. Lamplight flickered across their faces.

“What is this place?” Katherine asked Leofe quietly.

“Quiet,” Leofe said. She pointed to the opposite side of the room.

There were aged men and women standing there. Some that Katherine recognized from the house where they had passed sentence on her. There were twenty or thirty of them now, and they spoke together in quiet tones, which bounced off the rock but did not come to Katherine’s ear in any intelligible form. As they stood there, gradually Katherine became aware than more were filtering in to the room. Some she recognized from the village below. Some she did not.

“They decide today?” Katherine asked Leofe. Leofe only nodded. “You didn’t tell me.”

Leofe shrugged. “It would not have helped. You are ready, or you aren’t.” Leofe looked down at the ground. After a long pause, she said “I did everything I could for you.”

They sat there for another hour, as more people arrived, in twos and threes mostly. Katherine noticed that as they came into the chamber, everyone fell silent, even if they had been in the middle of a sentence. No one approached the platform where the old men and women stood. There was a practically funeral air in the chamber, and Katherine wondered if her fate hadn’t already been decided.

Part of her wanted to stand up, stride into the middle of the room, and shout for their attention. Make a fuss. Mess with their heads. Yell cuss words in their holy place. But another part of her, the part of her that had paid careful attention watching the villagers interacting in the hall, the part of her that watched Leofe carefully every day, to see what that impassive mask of her hid, that part quietly said no. That there is a time for yelling and cussing and making a scene. This is not it. You do not impress these people, and if you force their hand, they will not be gentle.

So Katherine sat quietly, and waited for something to happen.

Finally, when it seemed no one else was likely to arrive, and Katherine’s butt was beginning to suggest even something hard and flat in wood would feel like a royal throne in comparison to what it was currently planted on, something did happen. Some unseen signal swept through the room. The old people on the platform stopped talking, and turned to face everyone else. The rest of the room organized itself; people got up off benches, came away from the walls, gathered in the middle of the room, and faced the platform. Leofe stood up quickly, and motioned for Katherine to follow.

The figures parted as she approached, and they watched her go past. Leofe pointed to a spot right in front of the platform, in the empty space in front of the crowd. Katherine walked to it, and looked around her.

Once again, she had the uncomfortable feeling of an insect under a magnifying glass.

One of the men, white-haired with a thick beard, stepped forward. His face was lined and worn, and he might have played the part of a loving grandfather, or a kindly professor, in some other context. But the expression he wore suggested that he had never smiled in his life; that, indeed, frivolity was something he thoroughly disapproved of, and the only acceptable alternatives to work and study were sleep or death. He looked at Katherine, then at the crowd, then back at Katherine.

“You are Katherine Alice Green?” he said. He made no effort to speak carefully or slowly like Leofe did, but Katherine fixed her attention on every syllable.

“I am,” she said.

“You have come to the Stone Valleys against our law,” he said. “You are an invader. An outsider. In times past, men and women such as you have come among us, and they have made life very hard for us. We have never sheltered them, nor asked them for aid of any kind in return. We do not seek or tolerate the presence of outlanders. This, we believe, is known to your people. Yet you are here.”

To Katherine’s surprise, Leofe spoke from behind her.

“My father found her on the shore of the ice. She was nearly dead and half-starved. She comes here through no fault--”

“Be silent, Leofe. You are not part of this. It is for you to speak, Katherine Green.”

“Um. I. Ah…” Katherine’s brain was working overtime, trying to explain how she got to the Dry Valleys. Why she had come here. What she meant, in a way that would not invariably make everything worse. But worst of all, suddenly all the words she had been carefully gathering over the past few weeks had vanished. Poof, gone, flown away. She could not find any of them. “I’m not sure how to explain in a way--”

“You will speak in our tongue,” the man said sharply.

Ugh. This was her oral exams all over again. Why couldn’t she find the stupid words? She looked over at Leofe, who was staring at her with frightening intensity. She wished she knew what Leofe was thinking. This kid is doomed, maybe. All that work for nothing.

Katherine took a deep breath. No. This was like the shore. She was not going to give up, not here. Not if she could help it. She pushed down her panic, closed her eyes, and thought very carefully about what she wanted to say.

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Sledgehammer

Chapter Twelve

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader  |  Word Count: 3339 Warnings: Swearing, violence

Song: One Last Breath by Creed

“Hello, mischief? This is how you greet me after all this time?” Loki quipped, prowling toward you. He flicked his wrist, and the straps across your thighs and the ones around your arm tore free.

Pushing to your feet, you wobbled a little as you stood there, shooting pain slamming through your skull making you groan and reach for your head.

Loki was instantly at your side, arm wrapping your waist and hand cupping your nape. “Sváfa? What is it?” Eyes, green and glowing, peered worriedly down at you.

“Had my brain scrambled. Still hurts.” You smiled weakly, aching all over. “I may remember everything, but I’m still me, Loki.”

He tilted his head, a regal motion, one you’d teased him for even in this life. His eyes slowly hardened and drifted up to glare at the man edging away. “Is he the one who hurt you, darling?” Loki glared at the doctor.

Straightening up, you pushed against his chest, turning on Doctor Dick with murder in your eyes. “Yeah, that would be my doctor.”

“Now, sunshine, I was just doing my-” his words cut off when your fist connected with his face. He flew across the room and slammed against the wall, dropping like a fly or a bug which had connected with a windshield with a satisfying smack.

“Whoa,” you muttered, looking at your fist. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“I see you’ve regained your Valkyrie abilities,” Loki chuckled, “But how did you maintain your current self in there?” Throwing his hand out, he sent a burst of green magic at the chair, turning it into a crumpled mass of metal.

“Sváfa shielded me.” Turning back to Loki, a second stab of pain through your skull had you dropping to your knees and grabbing for your head. “Ah!”

“(Y/N)!” Loki was lifting you into his arms before you’d fully landed. “We must find your soldier. You need to be seen to.”

“I’m okay, ugagn, just weak. How long have I been gone?” you asked, rubbing your temple, ignoring the throbbing of your arm.

“Eleven days, lillesøster,” he said, hands tightening around you.

Little sister. The endearment brought tears to your eyes. “Is it weird that I missed you?” you asked, wrapping your arms around his neck. His scent of ice and snow brought so many memories rushing back from a life you were only beginning to remember.

He paused in his quick march down the hallway to look at you. His eyes had returned to blue, still full of mischief but there was a tenderness there you now realized had always been. He’d always been fond of you, but now you knew why. He had known all along, recognized you from the beginning. “Not at all, darling. I have also missed you. We had so much fun together!”

You snorted, a memory popping up. “Like when you convinced me tying three of Sleipnir legs together would be a grand idea right before Odin was set to go on a hunt?”

He chuckled, turning his nose into your hair. “That was entertaining.”

“I cleaned Sleipnir’s stall for three months because of you,” you huffed as he started to walk again.

“And I polished armour until my arms fell off,” he said, his grin a touch wicked. “It was worth it.”

A loud boom erupted, shaking the walls and sending dust falling from the ceilings. Another huge roar pierced the air, thunder rolled, explosions went off, and you jumped in Loki’s hold.

“Fucking hell! Are they trying to destroy the place?” you grumbled, wiping dust from Loki’s cheek.

“A good portion, yes. It is fortunate you thought to call out for Heimdahl.” His face hardened into a mask, anger and distaste at the forefront of his displeasure.

“You’re angry at Steve, aren’t you?”

“Should I not be? He allowed you to be taken. Allowed you to be injured. He is responsible for the state I found you in.” Each step seemed to cool the air around you until frost patterned the walls.

“He is not! I was the one duped. I ran. I was the idiot, not Steve. If anyone is to blame, it’s me and that asshole Garry.” His name left a sour taste in your mouth.

“They told me, but Steve should have noticed you were unhappy. It is his duty as your-”

You closed your hand over Loki’s mouth. “Stop. What Steve and I have is none of your business.” Eyes of blue twinkled before he licked your palm making you squeal and wipe it on his shoulder. “Gross!”

He was snickering when he suddenly darted to the side as rushing feet, many and booted, could be heard pounding down the corridor toward the two of you.

Setting you on your feet, he held you steady when you pressed your hand to the wall to stay upright, huddling with him in a narrow doorway. “Can you put up an illusion?”

“I could, but there are many. It would be easier to draw them away. Can you continue on your own? Your Captain is that way.” He motioned the direction you’d been heading.

Sliding your fingers beneath his overcoat, you pulled a long-bladed dagger from the small of his back. “I’ll be fine, ugagn. You be safe.”

“Always, lillesøster. I am no longer an untrained youth.” The green of his magic was already returning to his eyes as he bent down and kissed your cheek.

“Yet you’re still such a child,” you quipped, smirking up at him.

“Cheeky.” He tapped your nose and stepped into view of the men coming toward you. “A wolf insignia? Really? Why don’t I show you a wolf,” he snarled, wisps of green mist wrapping around him as his shape changed.

Memories of other times he’d done so swelled in your aching head, overlaying the current scene with images still too muddled to make sense of. Rubbing your temple, you watched in awe as he finished his change and stood before you, an enormous wolf, shaggy and grey with enormous teeth.

“Run!” he growled at the men, snapping his jaws. They fired wildly as he chased them back the way they’d come, claws scrabbling on the tile floor.

“He enjoys that way too much,” you snickered. Pressing off the wall, you weaved your way down the corridor, legs shaky. Sváfa had said you’d be weak after the transference, add in nearly two weeks of little to no movement, and little to no food, and the headache pounding away, it wasn’t surprising a slow wobble was about the extent of your abilities.

But Steve was down here somewhere. You just needed to find him.

***

Steve went shield first through the exterior door. It may have been reinforced steel, but at a dead run, and with the weight of both him and Bucky behind it, the door didn’t stand a chance. It blew in like a bomb had gone off, and he chucked his shield after it, sending it ricocheting off the walls and knocking out four men. A shot rang out beside him, the fifth dropping thanks to Bucky’s bullet.

He nodded to the dark haired man at his side. “Faye, we’re in.”

“Good. According to Thor, they were holding her in the med wing, but if my calculations are correct, and if Loki follows direction, you should be able to follow that corridor straight for three intersections. Take a left, go two more, take a right, and you should be there.”

“Hostiles?” Bucky growled.

“Two intersections in on the right. More when you make the left. Plus the ones you’ll find holding (Y/N).”

Bucky was already stalking forward, palming a grenade. Pulling Steve’s shield from the wall, he tossed it back at him. “Let’s go.”

Snagging his shield out of the air, Steve jogged after Bucky in time to watch the man toss the grenade, bouncing it off the wall two corridors down and to the right.

Shouting ensued before the bomb went off, reducing the yelling to silence.

Steve didn’t bother to look at the devastation, well aware of what Buck’s weapons could do as he stalked after the Winter Soldier. The lights flickered overhead, blinking off when one of Stark’s missiles took out the power grid. Within seconds the emergency lights came on, bathing everything in a wash of red light which pulsed slowly on and off.

“Seems Stark’s enjoying himself,” Bucky smirked, glancing at Steve. A roar rattled the ceiling tiles, sending dust down over them. “Hulk, too. It’s been a while since Bruce let loose.”

A smile curled the corner of Steve’s mouth before falling away. “He took it hard, what Garry did to (Y/N). We all did.”

“I can’t believe she believed all that shit,” Bucky scoffed. “Gonna tell her so, too, when we find her.”

Pulling the pistol from his hip, Steve fought not to flinch at Buck’s words. “Think I may have played into her fears. Not on purpose!” he said when Bucky glared at him. “She asked me a question a few days before she was taken. I thought it was foolish, but I never really gave her an answer.” He’d thought a lot about what had led up to her running, wondering the same thing as Buck. “She’s so damn self-assured, I never even thought… I should have said…”

“Fuck, what?” Bucky hissed, slowing as they approached the next intersecting corridor and their first turn.

Sighing, Steve readied himself to go low as Buck brought his rifle to his shoulder. Prepared as they were, trusting Faye’s predictions, they moved like a well-oiled machine, Steve bringing his shield up and firing, using it to deflect the return fire for both himself and Buck, while Bucky worked to take out the dozen men waiting for them.

It was a short-lived battle.

Rising from his crouch, he flinched when Bucky punched him in the arm. “What!?”

“What did you do, you little punk?”

The cold hard eyes of the Winter Soldier glared at him, and Steve gave a semi-helpless shrug. “I didn’t think-”

“Clearly!” Bucky snorted, stalking away.

“Hey! It was a dumb question! Like I’d ever leave her for Sharon,” he huffed, stomping after the metal-armed man.

“Let me guess,” Bucky sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face, “You didn’t tell her no?”

“I thought…” his shoulders slumped, “showing her was better.”

“Jeez, pal!”

“I know, I know! I was an idiot.” He’d had a hand in pushing her away, even if he hadn’t realized it at the time. And now, with what Loki had hinted at, he could get her back only to lose her anyway.

Rounding the second corner, they headed for the set of double doors at the end of the hall. Steve broke into a jog; he couldn’t help himself. If Faye were right, she’d be right there, behind those doors, waiting for him to find.

So far, Faye hadn’t been wrong.

***

You stumbled forward, cursing Stark and his need to blow up all things when the power had gone out. The red lights weren’t helping the headache you were working at ignoring, nor was smacking your shin when you rounded a corner in the dark to walk into a steel cart.

Leaning against the wall, you took deep breaths, fighting the continued waves of nausea knowing throwing up nothing, which was the likeliest scenario, would only cause more pain to whip through your skull. As it was, it felt like the Hulk was pounding a set of bongos to a beat only he could maintain. Pressing the heels of your hands to your temples, you wished with all your heart for the biggest bottle of Aspirin you could get your hands on.

When the wave of pain and sickness finally settled, you started down the corridor again, the flashing red lights making it that much harder. You had no idea where in the building you were. The hallways they’d wheeled you down earlier in the complete opposite direction. Every so often you could faintly hear howling and the sounds of wicked laughter, muted as if coming through many layers of walls.

Loki was, apparently, still enjoying himself.

That was fine. You didn’t want him there when you found Steve. The God of Mischief and America’s Greatest Hero were not going to be on the best of terms for a while, probably. Loki had always been overprotective, a little possessive, and jealous of Helgi when you’d fallen for him in your first life. He’d gotten over it eventually, but it had taken time.

The sound of boots on tile had your head whipping up, a bad move when it hurt so much. Darting forward, you made for the doors at the end of the hall, gripping Loki’s dagger tightly, the blade hidden against your forearm.

“There she is!”

Cursing softly, you ran, slamming through the doors and into a big open room. There was nothing to hide behind and nowhere you could safely run to escape the three men coming through behind you.

Spinning around, you faced them and smiled with far more bravado than you were feeling. “Now, boys. Do you really want to do this?” you asked, backing up as they spread out, trying to cage you in. All three looked identical in their tactical gear. Black on black, helmets and goggles, white wolf insignia’s over their hearts.

“Just be a good girl and come with us,” the first said, slinging his rifle to his back. Holding up his hands, he approached you slowly, a smirk working across what you could see of his face. “Wouldn’t want to hurt you more than necessary, ain’t that right boys?”

A song was singing in your veins, old and joyous, a forgotten portion of your nature you relished feeling return. A lust for battle sang, heightening your senses and causing the headache to retreat under the rush of adrenaline. “You boys are in for some surprise,” you snickered.

As the first man closed in, you allowed Loki’s hidden dagger to drop into your palm.

“She’s got a-” was as far as the second soldier got.

You brought the dagger to bear, slicing a gash in soldier one’s thigh. A flip had you changing hands, slamming it down through his shoulder. Jerking it out, blood spraying across your face, you kicked him hard in the chest, sending him sailing back out the doors they’d recently come through.

“What the fuck?” muttered the third soldier.

You grinned, shrugging your shoulders. “Who knew, right?”

Both of them brought their weapons up, training them on you. “Drop the knife!”

Pouting, you shook your head. “But we were just getting started.”

“Drop it, or we drop you!”

You let go of the dagger. It looked like you were going to have to do things the hard way.

“Get on your knees!”

“Make me!” you snarled, baring your teeth. When two shots rang out, you almost thought they’d shot you before their bodies were falling to the floor.

Whipping around, you stared, overcome with emotion for standing across the room, just lowering his pistol was, “Steve!”

“(Y/N)!”

With tears welling, you stumbled forward but only made three steps toward each other when the door at your back opened.

Again you spun to face the new threat. It came as quite a shock when the new threat falling to their knees a few paces away happened to be wearing your face.

“Steve! Don’t! She’s an imposter!” Gaping at him, the shimmer of his glamour falling away beneath your focused attention, you glared at Garry on the floor and glanced to Steve and Bucky.

Steve’s eyes darted from yours to the image of you on the floor and back, horror washing over his features as you realized he couldn't tell the two of you apart. The look of terror on Steve’s face was mirrored by Bucky’s; both holding half raised weapons.

A very strange looking Garry hauled himself slowly back to his feet as you stood, dumbfounded, unable to believe he could sink so low. “Steve, I’m me! That’s Garry!” you said, pointing at the copy of yourself.

“Don’t believe him! That’s Garry!”

“You son of a bitch! I’m so going to beat you to a pulp!” you snarled.

“Not if I get my hands on you first! Steve,” he cried turning toward the two stunned Avengers. “I swear it’s me! What’s the word, Cap, that’s the thing we say, and Bucky, you like to tap the end of my nose.”

“All things you’ve seen them do, Garry!” you bellowed, stepping toward him only to hear Steve’s pistol cock.

“Stay where you are!” he barked, gun coming up.

“Stevie…” you whispered. “It’s me, Cap I swear it.”

“This is fucking unreal,” Bucky muttered. “We could just shoot both. Garry always loses his glamour.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Barnes?” you screeched. “I crashed Steve’s bike, have road rash from hell, broke my arm, got injected with weird ass green glowing goop for two weeks, survived having my brain scrambled in that godforsaken chair, and now you want to shoot me!”

“There!” Garry crowed, pointing at you. “That’s how you know she’s the imposter! No one would survive the chair! She’d be wiped. I’m the real me, Steve! I promise!”

Bucky’s weapon also swung your way, his face set in the cold hard lines of the Winter Soldier.

“Bucky… no.”

“She’s right. No one survives the chair.” Bucky’s eyes narrowed, the gun coming all the way up.

Garry’s face beneath the glamour was nearly triumphant as he moved to face the boys. When he turned was when you saw it, the shine of the silver handle, the gun tucked at his low back.

“I won’t let you hurt them,” you said to Garry, his gaze coming back to you.

“It’s you who will hurt them,” he sneered, hand twitching, slowly creeping behind his back.

“No, not this time. Steve,” you said softly, dropping your hands to your sides. “I love you with all my heart, but this?” Turning your head, you looked from his gun to Bucky’s; both pointed directly at you. “I don’t wike it.”

“Baby,” Steve whispered, gun lowering.

“You bitch!” Garry screamed, pulling his weapon, knowing instantly he'd lost.

Two shots went off in rapid succession and fire burned through your shoulder. Crying out, you grabbed for it, your hand slipping through the wet heat of your blood pouring from the wound. Gasping at the pain, you stumbled backward, heading for the ground, only to be caught up in strong arms.

“(Y/N)!” Steve hollered. Holding you with one arm, he squeezed his other hand against your shoulder making you groan. “I know, I know, sweetheart, but I’ve got to slow the bleeding.”

“Steve,” you peered at him, face obscured by the helmet and mask. Your hand shook as you reached up to the buckle and undid it.

“Leave it, darlin'. We need to get you out of here,” he coaxed, trying to shake your hand free.

“Need to see. Need to… know,” you whimpered, pain wracking your body, ripping through you in waves of agony as you pushed feebly at it.

“Know what?”

You didn’t answer, only shoved the mask off with the last of your strength. Darkness was gathering at the edge of your vision, the red light washing on and off frustrating your attempts to see. Sliding your fingers through his hair, you drew him down, brought him closer, and stared up into eyes which appeared blue even under the pulsing red lights.

Your hand shifted to his face, touched his cheek, the curve of his jaw, his full bottom lip. “There you are. I knew you’d come.”

“I promised, didn’t I?” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“That you did, Cap,” you smiled as the darkness closed in. When your hand fell limply from his face, you could hear him call your name as if from a great distance before you heard nothing more.

Next Chapter

[jazzy-kandra]

Advice

Summary: In which Adolin asks Zahel for some advice. Stormshot. Oathbringer Spoilers.

---

Nestled at a table in the back of the makeshift library the Ardents had set up upon their arrival in Urithiru, Zahel was doing something he hadn’t truly done in years: research. The return of the Knights Radiant had inspired him, Kaladin glowing with Stormlight as he flew above the camp, Shardblade in hand. That girl activating the fabrial with her Shardblade. Dalinar bonding Stormfather, the largest remnant of Honor himself. Renarin healing Adolin’s wrist…

All of those events amounted to a clue on how he might unlock that same power for Awakening. He just hadn’t figured out exactly what that clue was, yet.

In his fist, he held an diamond broam that he had hidden from the others, only a few strains of light escaping through his thick fingers. His eyes focused on it, though he could sense it just as well with them close, for it was brimming with Investiture.

“Your Light to mine,” he said, speaking the words in his native tongue. Stormlight flooded forth, flowing towards him as a vapor. Zahel breathed. That part had always been easy.

This next part, however, wasn’t. He’d never been able to get it to work. Still, perhaps the fabrial he had “borrowed” could help him, or so he hoped. Through its captured spren, it created an artificial Connection - or bond, to use the local parlance -

Someone was standing behind him.

Damn.

Why couldn’t those stupid ardents listen to him when he said he didn’t want to be disturbed? Well, he thought, I can always scare them away again…

“Yeah?” A puff of Light escaped his lips as he spoke. He shut his mouth tight once more and clamped his nose between thumb and forefinger, it wouldn’t do to leak more Stormlight than he had to.

The person jumped. “Uh…, ummm, Master?” Damnation, it was Adolin. Zahel stuffed the small straw figure under the table. Sure, he saw the young man as his own grandson, but like any grandchild, Adolin could be awfully annoying sometimes. “Storms. How do you always do that?”

Zahel drew out a long sigh, the rest of his Stormlight escaping in a fine mist. Stupid leaky Investiture. He’d have to work on this later. At least he had some more spheres which he had managed to charge in that unexpected Highstorm. Unfortunately, he couldn’t just scare a princeling away and get back to work.

Why was he so much more grumpy of late? Perhaps it was related to that new Storm…

“I have good ears.”

“Wait…,” the boy jogged up beside his chair, hovering over him like a teacher spying on some poor student as they did coursework. “Was that Stormlight?”

Shit.

“Your eyes are tricking you, boy.”

“But…I could’ve sworn…,” he said. “You’re not another hidden Knight Radiant, right?”

Zahel snorted, waving a dismissive hand at that stupid suggestion. He’d rather eat crem than bond with a spren. “I won’t go flying off with your Stormlight.”

“Just thought I would ask,” he said, still staring at where the vaporous Investiture had vanished. “You know, you’re pretty weird, Zahel.”

“Not every shade of blue is a green.“ That didn’t sound right. Did they even have a word for teal?

“What?” Adolin asked. “Green isn’t blue. That’s ridiculous.”

“Damnation language,” he muttered. Adolin grinned, a part of the boy had always liked it when Alethi fouled him up and made him spout something ridiculous. Hallandran had a name for nearly every color known to man, the Alethi only had a few scant words to describe the whole set. It was terrible. Instead of sounding old and wise, he came off sounding like a colorblind idiot. “You know what I mean, how many of these fools do you think are broken enough to get a spren to bond with them?”

“Broken?” he asked. “What does that have to do with becoming a Radiant?”

Zahel grunted. Why was he talking about this kind of thing with Adolin Kholin? He was a fine lad, but he didn’t know a thing about Investiture or the finer workings of the cosmere. Adolin wasn’t his cousin. Jasnah was a smart woman, pity that red-haired girl said she was dead.

Zahel wasn’t sure he believed that, though. Kholins were hard to kill, and if the rumors he had heard were true, she had been a Radiant, too. Probably just faked it, somehow, he thought.

“What did you want, kid?”

“I’m…ah…I started training Shallan with the sword,” he began, nervously shuffling his feet, “and I was hoping for some advice.”

The boy blushed. Great. Not only did he have to deal with that new, pesky storm, it seemed the boy had finally became a man.

“Son,” Zahel said, turning around fully in his chair. “I know you like the girl, but having heirs early i-”

“Wah…what?

Or not. Thank Colors. He didn’t want to have that conversation with Adolin. Let Dalinar deal with it, he was a better man now. Zahel was too old for that kind of crem.

Zahel frowned. "Then what did you mean?”

“Ummm, I’m… I’m training her to use a Shardblade…not…” He looked away sheepishly.

“Oh.” Yes. That was a lot more like Adolin.

“What in Damnation did you think it was?”

“Nothing.” Adolin gave him a bewildered look. Storm it. He wasn’t going to go into details if the storming kid was too dense to get it. "What’s wrong with teaching her that?”

“She’s a woman.”

Oh right. Silly Alethi and their damn gender roles. Vivenna would…no. He didn’t want to think about Vivenna. It hurt too much.

“And you’re an Ardent.”

“So?”

Adolin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not supposed to…”

“I’ve trained women before,” he said. In both kinds of swords, unlike some kids who can’t comprehend simple metaphors. He, however, had enough wisdom not to say certain things aloud. “What does it matter? She’s got a sword, might as well learn to use it to defend herself."

Adolin nodded. "That’s what I said,” he sighed, looking apprehensive once again. “But she’s just not passionate about it."

Zahel closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then released it. How could he be having this conversation, and how in the cosmere did a man of twenty-four not understand what it sounded like he was saying?

"Master…?” Adolin only used that title when he was concerned.

“You’re an idiot."

"Huh?”

“Most people aren’t that storming passionate about their Shardblades.”

“Well,” Adolin said, taking a seat at the table. “They’re special. You know that, you’ve handled a few!”

Zahel rolled his eyes.

“She doesn’t have to be passionate,” he said, stopping Adolin before he had the chance to ramble on and on about said swords. “She just has to learn to defend herself. Keeping a cool head can be good in a fight. Now…what in Damnation makes you think you’d make a good teacher?"

“I’m just that storming good, that’s why.”

“Ha.”

“But I am,” he said, “you trained me.”

“That doesn’t make you a good teacher, boy. You’re an excellent duelist and warrior, neither of those things mean you know the first thing about teaching someone else,” he said. “If we didn’t need to keep this secret, I would tell you to bring her to me.”

“You? But you’re too…”

“Mean?”

“No, you’re just a grump,” Adolin said. Ah. That was the Alethi word for it. Hadn’t Vivenna called him something like that once? “Shallan is basically your polar opposite. Unlike you, she’s actually nice. Cheerful. Happy. She’s pretty, too.”

That might be true, but she’s not Vivenna. Instead, Zahel barked a laugh. “You fear I’d corrupt her with my…grumption?”

“That’s not a word.”

“It should be,” he said. “I’ll write you some suggestions.”

“But I can’t…oh. For her.” He blushed again. Adolin really did like this Radiant girl, didn’t he? That detraction could pose a problem while teaching,…and lead to other things.

Zahel shook his head, then flipped to a clean sheet of parchment. As Zahel wrote, Adolin went into more detail about Shallan’s lessons. It seemed they had managed two sections without incident, and the girl had gotten a basic handle on some of the simpler stances.

After some time had passed, he handed the sheets to Adolin. “Huh,” Adolin said, inspecting the sheet, “your handwriting’s actually legible.”

“You’re illiterate.” Of course, that wasn’t the only problem. Zahel preferred writing in his native Hallandren, not women’s script. It was quicker. “And,” he looked over Adolin’s shoulder, “you’re holding it the wrong way.”

The boy held it sideways. “Oh,” Adolin said, rotating the sheet…until it was still sideways again. Storms. “I can still tell if it’s legible, Zahel.”

“Right.”

“Thanks,” he said, standing to leave. Zahel cleared his throat, however, causing Adolin to turn back. “What?”

“Do you kids have some kind of chaperone for these nighttime lessons?”

“It should be fine,” he said, scratching the back of his neck bashfully. “Her spren’s keeping an eye on things.”

“Her spren,” Zahel deadpanned. Great. “Adolin…”

The boy swallowed. “Hey, if my father’s spren can officiate his marriage to my aun - mom,” he said, seemingly unsure of what he should called Navani. Hell, Zahel wasn’t sure either. “Then Pattern should be acceptable, it’s not like…like…”

Even if they did it, it wouldn’t disturb Zahel’s conscience. Considering how easily flustered Adolin was, however… “Just pulling your leg, kid,” he said, patting him on the arm. “If you need more help, just ask.”

Adolin nodded.

“Go on, get going,” he said, waving him off. Adolin scurried away, no doubt in a rush to meet with a certain red-head.

Hopefully, nothing would come of it. But if it did…well, he had never been that great an ardent, anyway.

Zahel took out yet another sphere from his hidden stash. It was time to get back to work.

“Your Light to mine…”