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irrelechan · 25 days ago

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The Last Ember's Light - 19

The Lake

They fell into step without speaking, as if the hush of the night had wrapped them both in its palm. The air was cool against Seraphyne’s cheeks, still warm from the closeness of the Tower’s walls. A gentle breeze stirred the last of the dry autumn leaves at their feet. They whispered beneath their boots with each careful step. Above them, branches tangled against a violet sky, the slivered moon caught like a forgotten coin between the trees.

Gale’s shoulder brushed hers, a fleeting touch, and she caught the faint scent of ink and warm wool beneath the cool air—familiar, grounding.

“How’s your temple?” he asked, voice quiet, the words threading through the night as if he were reluctant to break the stillness. “From the spell. It’s improved since then?”

“It’s fine,” she answered, though the memory of the embarrassment still prickled. “Just a bruise now, mostly on my pride.”

“Ah. Well, your pride tends to redirect the blast inward.”

She nudged him lightly with her elbow, a half-smile curling at the edge of her mouth. “And yours never does?”

“Mine is professionally restrained,” he replied, as though the words themselves were a charm. “I’m a model of control.”

She arched an eyebrow, biting back a laugh. “You spun me in a circle in the training chambers, among other things.”

He gave an exaggerated sigh, the sound melting into the quiet around them. “A momentary lapse in judgment,” he murmured, then added, his voice softer now, “A good one, though.” Her quiet laugh warmed the space between them. They walked a little further, the night deepening around them like ink poured slowly across the sky.

Then, as if the world itself tilted, Gale stopped. The hedges broke where a narrow iron gate waited, its latch worn smooth by many years of use. “The night awaits,” he said, voice low and almost wistful.

Without waiting for her reply, he slipped through, holding the gate ajar for her. She hesitated only a moment, then followed. The path beyond sloped gently downward, and the air became cooler as they neared the lake. The scent of damp earth and the memory of rain filled their senses. Moonlight threaded through bare branches, silvering the edges of lonely curled leaves. The path gleamed faintly, like a dark brown ribbon unraveling beneath their feet. Ahead, the trees thinned, and the lake revealed itself like a secret obsidian mirror lined with sparkling frost-kissed grass. So still, it seemed to cradle the sky and the stars within it. Faint silver and blue arcane lanterns hung high in the trees, their glow soft, casting long shadows that drifted over the ground.

At the water’s edge, plush pillows and blankets had been laid out. They were accompanied by a bottle of deep red wine and two glasses that shone in the moonlight. It looked as if the night itself had conjured it into being. Seraphyne slowed as a gasp left her, taking it all in. The scene was more breathtaking than she had even imagined it could be.

“Gale… what is all this?”

He turned, his gaze steady on hers, his smile quiet, almost shy. “Something I thought you might enjoy.”

For a minute, she could only stand there in awe, caught between the hush of the lake and the warmth in his eyes, feeling the moment ripple around and through her. Gale’s chuckle was soft and low in his throat. A sound that seemed to settle into the space between them. His fingers brushed lightly over hers. When she touched his hand, he then laced through them in a gentle, deliberate hold. Without another word, he tugged her forward, guiding her down the short slope to where the blanket lay spread beneath the trees.

Noticing the hesitation in her step, the way her breath seemed to stall, Gale cleared his throat, and a wry smile curled at the corner of his mouth. His hand released hers but hovered near, as if reluctant to let go. He bowed to her and gestured toward the open space between the lake and the blanket. His voice, when it came, was warm and teasing.

“May I have this dance, m’lady?”

Her heart skittered in her chest. “What? I mean—yes!” She blurted, her cheeks warmed even as a surprised laugh bubbled up from inside her.

As he caught her gaze, a smirk appeared slowly on his lips. He leaned in, voice dropping low, dark with playful intent. His fingers grazed the side of her hand as if savoring the contact. “Though I do warn you, I don’t intend to stop with just a dance tonight.”

His words lingered, pooling into her belly like fire catching tinder. When he straightened, offering his hand again with an almost courtly, not-so-innocent tilt of his head, her fingers closed over his.

Then, almost as if on cue, a spell shot into the air. With a wave of his hand, soft strains of music drifted around them, lilting and warm, a tune that seemed half-forgotten yet familiar. Blue bioluminescent flowers bloomed in the grass, their glow brushing over the hem of her skirt.

Gale’s grin tilted sideways, full of amusement and magic. He caught her hand and spun her into a slow, easy rhythm. At first, they moved carefully in tentative steps, the music a gentle current guiding them forward. But it wasn’t long before she felt herself relax into it. Laughter spilled between them like stardust into the night air.

Her hand slid up to his shoulder, light at first, curling into the soft fabric of his shirt. His hand found her waist, fingers splayed wide along the small of her back. She glanced up at him, a breathless grin on her lips. “Did you plan all of this just to seduce me, Archmage?”

Gale’s gaze was dark and molten. “Oh, Sera…” he murmured, low and close, the words brushing warm against her ear. “If I’d planned to seduce you, we wouldn’t still be standing.”

The boldness of it sent heat crashing through her. Her breath caught; her cheeks flushed a deep, furious red, and she smacked his shoulder, laughing despite herself.

“Gale!” She hissed, biting her bottom lip to contain the wicked grin that was stretching on her face. He laughed then, a warm, rich sound that rumbled against her chest. The sheer joy of it—of him—lit up the surrounding space, drawing her in like a moth to flame.

The moment hung between them, fizzing with bright energy, until the music subtly slowed. Their movements shifted in time, swaying more than dancing, their bodies close, her head resting against his chest. The lanterns above them swayed with them, casting dappled shadows across the grass. The flowers glowed brighter, their luminescence soft and ethereal, brushing over them.

His voice dropped, softer now near her ear, like a secret shared just for her.

“You look absolutely enchanting tonight, Sera.” The words slid over her, sinking deep into her bones. A shiver ran down her spine. Gale’s gaze lifted briefly, following the arc of the moon as it drifted higher in the night sky.

“The moon’s almost in position. The wisps should arrive momentarily,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, threaded with a quiet sense of anticipation. He looked back at her, something soft and lingering in his expression. His fingers brushed hers once more, gentle but sure, as he gestured toward the blanket.

“Come, let’s sit and relax. The best is yet to come.”

Her pulse skittered unevenly as she hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing in around her. Gale, as if the evening itself bent to his will, had already settled onto the blanket with a graceful, unhurried sprawl. His cloak pooled around him in soft folds, the fabric catching the lantern light like liquid shadow. He looked at her with that infuriatingly confident, and quietly amused expression. It was one that always seemed to know more than he said.

Without breaking eye contact, he moved his fingers in the air in a flick, then a slow arc. The wine bottle lifted lazily, and two glasses floated between them, catching in the air like drifting stars.

“For you,” he said, his voice as deep and smooth as the red wine gleaming in the glass. They shone like garnet in the low light.

She reached for the glass, her fingers brushing his. “Thank you,” she said, her voice softer than she intended. He watched her closely, gaze lingering on her face as if trying to memorize every detail he could. The curve of her lips, the gold catching light in her eyes, the way she sat in a hesitant but captivated way.

With another subtle wave of his hand, small platters of conjured food appeared before them. Silver plates of figs, soft cheeses, and thin crackers sprinkled with herbs. The scent of honey and fresh thyme drifted into the air.

“They pair well, don’t you think?” He said lightly, as if this were the sort of thing one always did at the edge of a moonlit lake. The corner of his mouth twitched into a faint smile, one brow lifting in a quiet, teasing invitation.

Some of the tension in her shoulders began to ease, the sharp edges of her nerves dulled under his steady pull. She tucked her legs beneath her, feeling the texture of the blanket under her palm, and took a small sip of wine. It was rich, with a pleasant spiced sweetness that danced on her tongue. She took some crackers and cheese and smiled at him in satisfaction.

Gale shifted closer, slow and sure, until the space between them folded away completely. His arm drifted along the back of the blanket, a sprawl that felt anything but casual. His warmth settled along her shoulder blades, and then lower, until his hand rested lightly on the other side of her hip.

The contact made her breath hitch, sharp and quick, her thoughts scattering like leaves in a gust of wind. But his touch stayed steady and unhurried. It was free of any pressure or expectation. Just a warm, anchoring presence at her side.

Almost without realizing, she leaned into him completely. He was grounding and dizzying all at once. The quiet between them deepened, it felt expansive, and full of possibility. The music of the lake lapped softly against the shore. His thumb traced an absent, almost unconscious arc over the curve of her waist, setting her skin alight in its wake. It felt, for a moment, like they were the only two souls in the world. Then, in the corner of her eye, something glowed.

“They’ve arrived,” Gale said, whispering in her ear.

A flicker of soft blue light danced over the surface of the water. Then another, and another, like small stars drifting loose from the sky. Wonder bloomed in her mind as the small fae creatures drifted higher, bobbing through the air. They multiplied, filling the space around them in slow, shimmering waves. The lake’s surface glowed with their reflection, casting blue, rippling light across their faces, the blanket, the trees.

“Oh…” she breathed, eyes wide, voice hushed with awe. “They’re so beautiful.”

She turned her head toward Gale, the words still on her lips, but he wasn’t watching the wisps. He was watching her. His gaze lingered on her as if she were the only thing that mattered, as if everything around them could crumble and he would still be there, unmoved. The blue lights danced in her golden eyes like swirls of magic. It entranced him in a way that he never thought possible.

She was his beginning, present and end. He thought of nothing else, could not if he even tried. He felt deep within himself that somehow fate brought them together despite all of their hardships and pain. He had been in love before, twice, but never like this.

“Yes…” he murmured.

It was all he could manage, just one word in a quiet exhale. Not quite a confession, but close enough to steal her heart all over again. Her lips parted, her breath shivered in the air between them, and for a moment they hovered at the edge of something inevitable.

She turned away and sat with the wine glass cupped between her palms, staring into the wisp reflected surface of the lake. The warmth of Gale’s arm at her back had steadied her at first, but now it was starting to feel overwhelming. The quiet pressed in, close and heavy, squeezing around the fluttering thing in her chest that refused to settle. Her voice broke the stillness, soft and hesitant. “Gale… What is this between us?”

He didn’t answer right away. She could feel him turn, the shift of his body as he angled toward her, the brush of his knee just barely against hers. His hand drifted down from her waist, resting instead lightly against the blanket beside her, as if unassuming, waiting for her to reach for it.

Her question did not bother him. He hasn’t exactly been direct with how he feels for her. He assumed that his actions would say enough but maybe she needed more reassurance and he had settled within himself that he would finally and directly give her just that.

“It’s…” He exhaled, voice low, thoughtful. “We’re something I’ve thought about more times than I can count.”

Her breath held tightly and she looked down into her wine, tracing the rim with her finger. “We’re crossing a line, aren’t we?” The words felt brittle in her mouth, delicate as just spun glass. “I don’t even know where it is anymore.”

“Neither do I. Not entirely.” There was a steady, firm undercurrent in his voice. He shifted closer, the soft brush of his cloak whispering against the blanket. The air between them seemed to contract, pulled tight by the gravity of his words.

“But I know this without a shadow of a doubt, Sera,” he murmured, his eyes locking onto hers with a quiet, devastating certainty. “It’s not a line I cross lightly. And yes... I’ve been terrified too. Terrified of what this could mean for you, me, and the Tower.”

Her breath hitched, shallow and trembling. His words were a weight settling over her chest, heavy and inescapable. She braced herself, waiting for the percieved inevitable. The unraveling, the rejection, the careful undoing of everything she had let herself hope for. A part of her already began to plan her retreat, prepare for the hurt—

Then she saw it. The fracture in him, the rawness in his eyes.

“Sera…” he breathed her name like a prayer. He lifted a hand, slowly, as though asking her permission. When she didn’t pull away, he brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingertips barely grazed her skin, but it seared her all the same. Then, with an unbearable gentleness, he tilted her chin up to look at him. The quiet, intense emotion in his gaze broke something inside her.

“I can’t keep pretending I don’t want this. That I don’t want you.” His voice was low, rough, as if the words were being torn from him. “Because I do. Gods, Sera, I do.”

He looked away then, to the dark ripple of the lake and the soft glow of the wisps dancing above it. A muscle in his jaw flexed tight, as if something there in the water would give him courage. The moonlight caught the edge of his profile, gilding the planes of his face in silver and shadow.

“There was something I once thought I’d say to you.” His fingers tightened slightly, his thumb brushing absently along the line of her jaw. “I wrote it down after the night we sat together by the hearth.”

Her breath hitched, a sharp, silent sound in the dark.

“I’ve read it to myself more times than I care to admit. And yet, I never found the courage to speak it…” He drew in a breath that shuddered through him, then exhaled, slow and aching. When his gaze returned to hers, it was unguarded. He was now a man stripped down to the bones of his heart. His breath faltered, as if he were holding back an ocean within himself. Then, barely above a whisper, he recited the words.

“I watched you laugh that night. You glowed in a world I feared I didn’t deserve to step into. I told myself not to look too long, not to linger, yet I did anyway. Again and again. Your joy Sera, it takes my breath away.”

Her lips parted, her breath shallow, her chest tight as though his words had wrapped around her ribcage and squeezed. Tears welled, blurring the edges of her vision, but she didn’t dare look away from him.

“You must think I don’t see you. That I never have. That we could never be more than what we are. And gods help me, I’ve made you believe that. For your safety, for mine. And yet...” His voice cracked, breaking under the weight of it, “Every part of me betrays that lie. I regret it every single day. Every moment I have been near you and not told you.”

He exhaled sharply, as if the dam inside him had finally broken. He couldn’t hold back the tide any longer. His hand cupped the side of her face, warm and trembling as though she were the only thing anchoring him to this realm. His thumb brushed away a tear that slipped down her cheek, and then another.

“Sera, I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted. You are more to me than every title, every ambition, every hope I’ve ever carried. My thoughts drift to you when they should be elsewhere. I think of you in every quiet empty moment. Every breath of magic that moves through me responds to yours. You’ve captivated me completely. I can’t undo it and I wouldn’t want to.”

Her lips trembled, tears spilled freely, the sound of her breath catching sharp in the quiet.

“I told myself you’d be safer if I stayed away. That the walls I built were for your sake. But they were mine, Sera. Mine. And they’ve kept me far from you for far too long.” His voice dropped even lower, rough with emotion, barely audible.

“From the moment you walked into my sanctum... you reshaped my world. I can’t—” His voice broke, and when he spoke again, it was a hoarse, fervent whisper. “I can’t imagine it without you anymore, my beautiful Sera. The mirror to my soul.”

The silence that followed was so profound, it felt like it would drag her under the ground. The lake shimmered, the wisps drifted closer as if the night itself was listening for her answer. Seraphyne could only stare at him, her heart breaking and soaring simultaneously, and the tears on her cheeks were hot against the cool air.

She couldn’t speak. She only managed to breathe, completely shattered and whole, held together by the weight of his hands and the relentless truth between them.

Her voice faltered, fingers tightening around his hand as though she might lose him if she let go. The ache in her chest felt unbearable, as the want and fear tangled together inside her like a frayed knot. Still, he waited patiently even though every second she didn’t answer felt like a pin pressed into his skin. The barest hint of hope shimmered in his gaze. Her breath came in a shaky exhale that tasted like surrender. She let the glass slip from her fingers, long forgotten, and it landed in the grass with a dull thud.

“I want that too,” Seraphyne whispered, taking his other hand, her voice broke open in small fractures. “I want to be yours.”

The moment swelled, breathless and electric, stretched so far it might tear. His thumb brushed a slow arc over her cheek, brushing away her tears. She could feel the faint brush of his breath against her mouth, a ghost of warmth that stole her own breath away. He tilted his head closer to her until they were almost touching. She could feel him waiting, hesitating.

May I…?” He whispered. So soft it barely reached her, and yet it sank into her like a stone.

Seraphyne’s heart felt like a drum pounding in her ears. She felt dizzy, and untethered, as if she were standing on the edge of something vast and high. Her fingers curled into his coat. The glow of the wisps turned the world surreal, with blue light caressing his features. They gilded the edges of his jaw, his lashes, the curve of his lips. Cedar and cloves filled her senses. Her eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling. She felt his breath warm and shaking, grazing her cheek, her temple. He tilted his head, brushing the side of her face as if he, too, were lost in this suspended moment. Gods…

“Sera… you’re so beautiful to me.”

Then, like falling into a dream, he faced Seraphyne, grazing her lips with his. So soft that she barely felt them at first. He held her as if she were a priceless delicate gem. She tasted something like rain, like home.

His hands hovered at her waist, holding her steady. When she sighed against him her hands slipped up his shoulder, fingers tightening in his coat as if to pull him closer. He exhaled a ragged, broken sound against her lips and deepened their kiss.

Heat bloomed, slow and all-consuming. His mouth moved over hers with a reverence that made her heart ache. Slow, deep, and lingering, as though he wanted to memorize every curve of her lips, every breath she exhaled. His hands held at her waist, fingers flexing once before he laid her gently back onto the blanket, moving with her.

She gasped, barely noticing the tremble in her breath, the way the world seemed to sway beneath her. The blanket was cool beneath her spine. He was warm above her, his weight steady as he hovered, barely touching. His hands slid over her hips, her ribs, slow and reverent, as if he could map her by touch alone. And when he kissed her again deeper, a low, desperate sound in his throat vibrated through hers.

Her fingers ran up the nape of his neck, into the dark waves of his hair. Her heart raced so hard it almost hurt. Every beat a silent cry for more. He moved to kiss her offered neck along the column of her throat, down to the hollow of her collarbone. She felt the tremor in his breath hot, and shuddered against her skin.

His magic thrummed in the air between them. She couldn’t stop the sound that escaped her, a whispered Gale that unraveled him completely. Her hands curled under his shirt. For a moment she thought she might let herself be consumed, swallowed whole by the want of him.

But then a thought, a moment of panic rose in her mind. The memory of what it felt like to be powerless, to be seen as nothing more than a vessel for someone else’s desires. Her breath turned sharp, and her hands trembled, pressing his shoulders. A soft, hesitant, but unmistakable silent signal.

“Gale,” she whispered, barely audible over the rush of blood in her ears.

He stilled instantly, as if she had cast a spell to stop time itself. His hands gentled where they held her, no longer pulling her close but instead keeping her in place. He lifted his head, just enough to look into her eyes. His gaze was dark with hunger, but at the same time achingly tender.

“Sera…” he breathed, voice a rasp of silk and gravel. His chest rose and fell unevenly, as though the effort of holding back was physical. “Tell me. I—please.”

She swallowed, her voice breaking. “I need to… slow down.”

He exhaled a long, shuddering breath, his eyes fluttering shut as if in restraint. When he opened them again, they shimmered in the blue light, golden flecks catching the glow of the wisps.

“Of course,” he murmured, voice barely more than a breath. He pressed a soft, loving kiss to her cheek, then her temple, and lingered there, his lips warm against her skin.

“You can stop me at any point, Sera. Always. Always.” His thumb brushed the curve of her jaw, trembling ever so slightly. “Your love and your body is yours to give, not mine to take.”

Her heart clenched, and tears burned behind her eyes.

His smile was a ghost, a flash of aching adoration. He kissed her again, then pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, breath still worn, his need then placed to the back of his mind.

“We’ll go slow,” he promised, voice hoarse. “It will be your pace. Whatever you need. Tell me when, how far, and what you want. It will be done,” His thumb traced the line of her cheekbone. “I’ll look for your cues. I’ll wait for you. Gods, Sera…” His voice broke, eyes closing as he exhaled. “I want to lose myself in you. Every moment, every inch of you. But we’ll take it slow. I swear it.”

Her breath hitched, a sob caught in her throat. The tightness inside her chest loosened enough to let in the heat of him. Her hands trembled as she cradled his face, overwhelmed by the tenderness and care laced into his every breath, and every word. She kissed him again. Together, they let the moment simmer. The promise between them held that this would unfold when she was ready.

They stayed for a long while, wrapped together in the hush of the lake, the drifting lights and the quiet music. When they finally rose to leave, their fingers came together without thought. The walk back to the Tower was slow, unhurried and full of things neither of them quite knew how to say. But they’d started. And for now, that was enough.

The path back to the Tower wound gently uphill, silvered in moonlight and stitched with the soft rustle of late autumn leaves. The glow of the Tower’s wards shimmered faintly in the distance, quiet and waiting. Gale walked beside her, his stride easy. He glanced at her, then away. Something fond and unreadable rested on the lines of his face.

The corridors of the Tower had long since dimmed to their nighttime hues. Soft blues and golds rippling faintly across the walls. The wards hummed low, casting a quiet over everything, as though the Tower itself was unwilling to disturb the magic lingering between them. Their fingers were still laced as they reached the familiar bend near her quarters. Neither of them had spoken much since leaving the lake. They didn’t need to. Full of thoughts and softened smiles. The weight of something new and real rested between them like a shared secret.

At her door, they paused. Seraphyne turned to face him, looking up through the loose strands of black hair that had slipped free. Her cheeks still glowed from the memory of his lips on hers, from the way he’d looked at her as though she’d conjured the night sky with her own hands.

“Thank you,” she said, voice quieter than usual, almost shy. “For tonight.”

Gale’s smile was soft, a gentle curve of lips that seemed to hold the weight of everything that had happened so far. “It wasn’t nearly long enough. Hopefully, the first night of many.”

“No,” she agreed, barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t. And I hope so too.”

For a moment, neither knew quite what to do next. Gale wanted more. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her again, wanted to stay—but he didn’t want to push either. The way she’d looked at him beneath the blue lights of the wisps was enough to fill him with joy into the next life if there was one.

“I should go in,” she said, though she didn’t let go of his hand.

“I know.”

“But I don’t want to…”

“I know,” he repeated with a soft smile, voice low and warm, full of promise. He squeezed her hand once, as a steady reassurance. She exhaled an almost disbelieving laugh. Then, after a pause, she leaned forward. Not for a kiss, but to rest her forehead gently against his. He mirrored her without hesitation.

“I liked tonight,” she murmured.

“So did I.”

When she finally let go, it was slow. Their fingers slipped apart with a reluctant softness. She stepped backward into the threshold of her room, the door glowing faintly with its warded lock. Behind the door, she leaned against the wood, eyes closed, heart still fluttering from the memory of his touch. For the first time in a long while, she wasn’t afraid of the feelings inside her. Felt only gratefulness. Seraphyne could feel happy tears stinging at the corners of her eyes.

It was late, but her heart hadn’t quite settled. She could still feel the warmth of his hands, the echo of his kiss. She exhaled, breath fogging the cool glass of the window beside her, whispering into the dark, “I’m not afraid like I used to be. That’s… something.”

The light dimmed low, cozy and protective. The air grew still, as if the Tower itself had wrapped around her, holding her gently. For the first time in years, Seraphyne fell asleep without reaching for the blade under her pillow, without fearing the nightmares that usually lurked in the night.

She only thought of him.

—

Gale sat on the edge of his bed, one boot still half-on, as if he’d forgotten how to finish removing it. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of magical sconces humming low on the walls. Outside the window, the stars glimmered sharp and distant, and the wind whispered unseen through the trees below. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, brow furrowed. Not in frustration, but in quiet, almost disbelieving wonder.

She kissed me back. Not just kissed me—she trusted me, at least more than she ever has. She opened to me like sunlight through leaves.

A breathless laugh escaped him, low and muffled, and he finally tugged off the other boot. It wasn’t just the kiss. It was everything before and after. The way she’d listened when he rambled about the wisps. The way she hadn’t flinched when his fingers brushed her cheek.

He stood and paced a little, barefoot on the cold stone floor. “That could’ve gone terribly,” he muttered under his breath. “Or worse. It could’ve meant nothing to her.”

But it hadn’t. He knew it hadn’t.

He stopped in front of the small cabinet where he kept his private tea blends. His hand hovered over the tins for a moment before falling away, unneeded. Instead, he stepped to the center of the room and tilted his head back to look at the ceiling.

“I know you’re listening,” he said, voice low but amused. The Tower’s hum responded in a subtle vibration beneath his feet, a low, living pulse.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmured, smiling.

He rubbed the back of his neck, fingers absently tracing the line of his shoulder. “She’s everything I didn’t think I could want again. And somehow more.” His voice softened further. “She’s good. Strong. And gods, she’s brave. She’s… she’s beautiful.”

He turned toward the window, resting his hand on the cool stone. Outside, a faint wisp of blue light drifted past—one last playful echo from the Tower, perhaps.

“I’ll be careful,” he said quietly, not to the Tower or to anyone in particular, but maybe to himself. “But I’m not letting her go.”

The hearth crackled once, brighter for a moment, then settled again. He smiled faintly and sat back on his bed, lying in the quiet. Sleep found him easily that night, the memory of her touch and the promise of more still warm in his chest.

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sassooda · 4 years ago

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Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 36 - No Longer Alone 🔞

w/c - 7,680

“Kokoro really was a fool…I almost feel sorry.” Genghis is in the mood to celebrate as he quietly snickers through the Titer compound, planning to share the news with Getou. He passes through a crowded windowless but well-lit room heading towards the southern bunker. Nearly all of the clansmen and women bow to his presence as he cheerfully ambulates through their earthy corridors, submitting their trust into him. He enjoys the gestured acclaim, knowing full well this position being his was long overdue. After searching over the room joyfully, he becomes momentarily sidetracked as his first turbulent encounter ensues. The young Titer that served Mugoi before appears in front of him, blocking Genghis’s direct path. ‘Now to reform these loose ends…’, he thinks to himself as he assesses the young Titer’s despair. “You there, what is your name?” Genghis sees the hatred in the young man’s face.

“…Itgeltei.”, is all the young man offers while still trying to remain fearless in front of the now most masterful man of the clan. “Itgeltei Baidal.”. His chin-length black hair waves with the wind as his deep brown eyes feign revenge.

Genghis smirks to the spiteful response, understanding that the poor wretch has lost his own mentor and is raging with emotions. “You can come with me now, there is still much work to be done.” He motions for the young Titer to follow him but the single energized stomp in response makes him halt his resumed stance.

“YOU KILLED MASTER KOKORO!” Baidal surges his energy and aims it at Genghis with tear filled eyes. “…and my SISTER!” His shaking limbs continue to quake as he takes a deep breath and prepares to at least injure the newly appointed head before being killed himself. “You have to pa-…”.

Genghis, without lifting a finger, uses his presence to immediately suffocate the young man who is now clear with regret. “I certainly did not kill Mugoi or Okhin, that was the enemy.” The fear pricks its way to the surface as the young Titer now seems to recognize exactly how unmatched he is and this entertains Genghis, “See, I never inherited the ancient techniques but I’m the top dog now for a reason…”, Genghis slowly approaches while Baidal chokes, surely feeling compressed as he opens his mouth to breathe but is unable to suction in any air. “…I have learned other ways to instill my goals.”. After reaching the young Titer, he looks around to all of the surveyors that stand winded with horror. “YOU ALL UNDERSTAND WHO IS IN CHARGE NOW, RIGHT?!”. Genghis darts his eyes back to Baidal who’s face has since turned red and puffed from the lack of oxygen while he continues to struggle. A woman near the door cries, “Yes! We do Master Genghis!”, and all of the Titers before him that are able, drop to the floor to offer an extensive bow. “Alright then!”, Genghis releases the young Titer with a smile and watches him crash to his knees, gasping. Genghis kneels down before him and holds out a hand, “If you’re willing to redirect your hatred to the right place, you can still serve your clan to the upmost, Baidal.”, but he’s met with still resentful eyes and understands that the young man will need time to decide his own fate as his hand is swatted away. “If you cannot however, you serve no purpose at all. Consider my offer.”. Genghis then turns to continue walking to Getou before the young man did something hasty, not wanting a scene to erupt with so many witnesses.

After Genghis leaves that corridor, Baidal hunts the room for any indication that he had supporters on the matter but feels completely alone as everyone looks down or simply continues with their business. ‘He may be powerful but he needs to be stopped.’, Baidal’s frustration peaks as he’s still trying to regain his breath, knowing that Genghis could have crushed him if he wanted to. Beneath his heaving he mutters the words that would have caused him death had they been heard, “He was supposed to stay locked away.”. Only by being Kokoro’s understudy did he become privy to the horrifying information of Genghis’s past and the true reason he was sent to death by the hands of Satoru Gojo to begin with. Baidal knows that there was never any love between himself and Getou, being that Kokoro committed atrocities himself. ‘I have to find allies…’, knowing he may have to outsource beyond his clan in order to have the backing necessary. ‘What does he have planned for Master Getou?’. Baidal thinks to check a few more friends before leaving the compound, his anxieties feeling all too real to ignore.

Genghis is back to his excited mood as he feels the weight of Kokoro’s lack of existence uproot his very soul. ‘Kokoro was a mediocre man and never should have been given this role.’, he resounds internally as he feels that although that wasn’t the exact future he saw, he knew Mugoi was likely to expire at the hands of Fushiguro. “I do admire this Toji’s strength and he will certainly give us another edge until his time comes as well.”. He pretends to be kind as more Titers bow on foot to him as he passes, loving the thrill of being the faux head. The red clay-made walls and ground signify his descent into the compound, “Now we just have to work on Getou with the girl…”. Genghis smiles wider, ‘She’s truly perfect. What she’s capable of…what I’ll have her do…’. Genghis has yet to reveal all of his plans to Getou but will do so when he feels the time is right but not a moment sooner and for good reason. Upon turning the corner towards Getou’s quarters though, he feels the gravitational presence. “Such a grown child…”, but hurriedly runs towards the door with slight apprehension, knowing there were some of the help in there with him.

Getou is furiously releasing his gravity manipulation throughout the room. He’s yelling out but the sound means nothing in particular as he pins weaker Titers that were only there to serve him. “What am I supposed to do with THAT?!”, in pure fury he asks one of the servants as he points to the shattered bowl with water spilled all around it. “She’s…SHE IS DISGUSTING!”. The servants cry out unanimously as his fit continues but Getou purposefully doesn’t kill any of them. He looks to a younger male Titer who is already crying, “You really suggest that I should just accept this SHIT?! She’s tainted!”.

Genghis bursts through the door, “SUGURU! STOP THIS AT ONCE!”, and uses his crippling presence to counter the waves of gravity. They’re no match for Getou’s abilities but they can at least bounce some energy back to him, thus giving his attention to Genghis. “RELEASE THEM!”.

Suguru faces his mentor and reluctantly quells his technique, allowing the four pinned servants to scurry away through the door behind Genghis. “I wasn’t going to hurt them…but I may hurt bird bitch. You cannot SERIOUSLY expect me to want her.”. Getou now sits to the chair beside him and takes out his bun knowing he made a mess of it. ‘At least Fushiguro took action…’.

“What happened in the small number of hours I’ve left you?” Genghis sees the shattered bowl and immediately understands that Getou saw something he didn’t like. He takes in the state of the room, all of the different craters formed about as he nears. ‘We’re lucky this part of the structure didn’t collapse…’. He’s a little irritated.

“I will not have her as my wife.”, Getou huffs. He seethes at the images in his brain that depicted Elska, Naoya and Gojo sharing sexual relations. “She is not suited to be ANYONE’s wife!”. He accidentally snaps his hair band apart while trying to put his hair back up and becomes further infuriated. After grinding his teeth together, he tosses the useless hair tool across the room before running his hands through his long black hair. He sees Genghis nearing him and tries to recollect himself so he doesn’t seem immature. ‘Why the fuck did I have to see that?’.

“What happened little one? What is SO bad that you feel you can justify this tantrum?” Genghis needs his words to cut but not in a way that will dislodge Getou further. He understands that sometimes he just may need a parental figure and is attempting to gratify this part of Suguru.

“She…”, Suguru’s words silence for a moment before continuing, “…she was having sex with Zenin and Gojo…”. His fists clench reflexively as the thought of Gojo enjoying himself, living care free. It wrenches his intestines together. There’s a lack of response from Genghis, so he lowers his voice to exact his reasoning, “She fucks everyone.”, he cackles in annoyance, “Everyone but me that is.”. Getou remembers her glare when he left the room they held her in at the base. “I knew Zenin was oddly territorial with her but I never would’ve guessed this debauchery. He hates Gojo too…so I thought.”. Getou reels over the loss of his cohorts once again as he’s no longer alone but it doesn’t really feel like it.

Genghis knows Suguru is expecting him to be riddled with disgust as well but he’s isn’t. ‘Is he..?’, Genghis is not even upset anymore as he feels that was confirmation of Suguru’s jealousy, whether Getou knows it or not. ‘Maybe there is hope for us after all…’. He lets a few seconds pass to simulate that of someone who cares. Genghis loves Suguru like a son but he also loves his own future as well along with his grandiose plans for their clan. With a small sigh he brings a chair and places it opposite of Getou and sits down. “Look little one, are you sure tha-…”.

“SHE HAD GOJO INSIDE OF HER WHILE SHE WAS GAGGIN ON ZENIN!” Getou almost doesn’t catch himself in time to control the surging energy flowing through him. ‘Gojo… of all people.’.

“Hmmm…”, is all Genghis offers while he thinks of how to diffuse this situation.

“HMMM??!!!” Suguru mocks and then hollers, “What the FUCK kind of response is that?!”. He sees the glint of anger that flashes across his mentor’s eyes and decides to calm down. It’s a matter of respect.

Genghis raises an eyebrow at how perceptive Getou can be at times although he needs to learn to be like that always. “I can see why that would bother you…”, but Getou scoffs as he turns away. “Her nature…it’s solidified but ever changing it would seem. We may not have the time we originally thought.” Suguru looks back to him now as he’s obviously curious as to what that could mean. ‘She’s already creating a small but powerful army.’.

“What is that you know, Master?” Getou’s back to his collected demeanor as he’s eager to understand what could cause Genghis to seem so offhand on the ordeal. He looks around the destroyed room and feels slightly embarrassed, especially if there’s some kind of explanation.

“When she drinks from the hybrid, his curse blood fuels her own. This is what I was trying to elucidate to you before.” Genghis checks to make sure he has Getou’s undivided attention. When he’s satisfied by his pupil practically hanging on the edge of his seat, he continues, “She has awakened to a small degree and with her kind, that means a growing appetite for many things and less inhibiting emotions in exchange.”. Getou’s eyes narrow in response but Genghis proceeds, “When we get her here, you’ll have to sate her needs little one so it’s best you understand now.”. He’s anticipating a rebuttal but it doesn’t arrive, ‘Good, because if you don’t, I will...and that may cause some problems.’.

Getou is still mildly confused but understands enough that he’ll have to feed and fuck her. “I’ve already tried that, it didn’t work.”. His thoughts take to the last time he saw her, while he was working his way in.

“You stabbed her, broke her wings and then forced yourself between her legs… let’s understand the difference here, Suguru…”, Genghis shakes his head as he didn’t want to be so blunt but at the same time, there’s no room for error there, Getou must comprehend that.

“And she called out for Naoya when I did.”, Getou’s patience are being tried at this point. He knows he was wrong in his approach and even with his brutal nature. He also is hesitant to express anything in regards to that scent that provoked him.

Genghis interrupts the pity party, “Because she’s afraid of you Suguru…and rightfully so!”. He softens his eyes for his pupil for just a moment, “I could never imagine expecting any other outcome. I’ve never even thought to do something like that to a woman.”, Genghis lies with complete knack.

Getou exhales heavily and turns his gaze to the shattered bowl, “That doesn’t explain why she’s fucking everyone…”, he loses himself in those same images again and runs his finger along his scarred cheek. His eyes widen as he’s suddenly remembering the aftermath, “Toji attacked them though, I’m guessing Kokoro succeeded?”. He switches his view back to his mentor with inquisitive eyes.

Genghis decides to hold off of the details about Elska and Toji following the incident. ‘She really is getting her fill though…’, but smiles to her ways as he watched them that day, all of it, from afar. He then tilts his head upwards and tries to hold his happiness inside as he delivers Mugoi’s fate, “Kokoro perished by the hands of Fushiguro… and Oda.”.

Upon hearing of Mugoi’s death a small smirk appears initially but then he’s overcome with the fact that he’d always planned on taking out Kokoro himself. “How can he be dead? Isn’t he under the same technique?”. He hopes the bastard can return for more.

Genghis allows his grin to sneak through after seeing Getou’s reaction, knowing they’re both pretty glad the fuckers gone. “Yes well, they didn’t use any techniques to kill him, they just utilized that nature of theirs. If he were killed with a cursed ability, yes, we could have reversed that.” Genghis chuckles lowly, “I told him to be extremely cautious but he ultimately underestimated this Toji gravely. To be fair though, I wasn’t expecting the girl to behave as she did…she killed Okhin viciously as well.”.

Getou catches on to his master’s amusement and it rubs him as odd, “You said the outcome would benefit me…did you know this would happen?”. He’s decided to place that weird display in the back of his mind for the time being. ‘Okhin too?’, Getou barely knew the Titer woman but was aware of her loyalty to himself and their cause and feels regret that she lost her life.

“I did.”. Genghis leans toward being honest about this bit at least. He waits to gauge Getou’s response and becomes eased when he can tell that his knowing won’t be met with hostility. “Mugoi wasn’t a very good man and he had no business leading this clan. His strategies were half-baked and his desires to lead were misplaced.”.

“I never did like him…I actually hated that fucker and owed him for Kechi and Eso...” Getou sighs as there’s yet another thing to be grateful to Elska for. “Serves him right.”. ‘I wonder how she did it?’. Getou ponders on her mysterious existence and wonders what else he may not know about her. He thought he was well informed before but sees that’s not the case at all.

Genghis smiles genuinely as he proceeds the conversation to nourish the seed he’s planted, “So…you were watching her?”. He gives a playful shove to Suguru, “You can’t hide the fact that you’re interested…I can already tell.”.

Getou’s face becomes deadpanned at his mentor’s words. He’s self-conscious about the truth in the statement, not really being sure as to when it happened nor why. He looks back at the shattered bowl, “I was seeing if there were any tactics I could formulate based on their own.”. He feels another light push and it’s clear that Genghis wasn’t buying it. ‘Why is she so important to even him?’. He sighs in frustration, “Yes, ok? I was watching her…although I regret it now.”. His eyes widen during the statement, showing he meant it desperately.

Genghis releases a loud cheer into the room, “ALRIGHT!”. He pats Getou on the shoulder, “This is great little one! You shall have her then!”. He can barely control his pride as he knows this step was imperative to conquer. “We will have to secure her soon before the others reach her to do the same.

Getou wants to ask about the others mentioned but figures it pertains to the clans also aiming for the same goal. He becomes tactical, “I think we should draw them in and crush all of their shaman.”. This time, when preparing her quarters, he would take a note from Naoya and make sure she can at least be impressed by their offer. ‘Would it really make that much of a difference though?’, he’s unsure of what lies ahead because of what’s occurred in the past.

Genghis leans forward with approval, “That is a wise idea but we should bait them first.”, he smiles maliciously, “I think we should take your lover first and give them a location.”.

Getou blushes against his own will and tries to mask it with haste, “Whatever, that’s fine. I need to prepare an area for her.”. Suguru stands up, cloaked in agitation as he worries about what could be wrong with him. ‘Why…am I feeling so…awkward?’.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you only need to prepare another room for yourself.” Genghis can’t believe that he’s having to hold his pupil’s hand through this but laughs to the confusion painted on Suguru’s face, “She’s going to be staying with you.”.

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“Cho, how do you know this? ARE THEY NEARBY?” Naoya knows Choso is also very fine tuned when it comes to sensing other techniques, primarily the Titers for having worked around them for so long. Naoya still is looking around to silently ask everyone to be on their guard.

Choso doesn’t remove the box from his pocket. He keeps his fingers wrapped around it though and tries to figure out a way to communicate that won’t bring them to a disadvantage. His stillness unnerves everyone but Toji tries to calm the room, understanding there’s a purpose for it. Choso decides to try something. After standing, he uses his right hand to point at his pocket and while still holding the box inside of there, he flicks it a few times with his finger, creating sound.

Gojo is the first to catch on and decides to give it a codename, “The bento box!”. He smiles to Choso’s relieved nod and turns to face everyone. “Do you remember the yellow fish delivery we received earlier?”, Toji scrunches his face but then the connection is made. “I believe that Choso’s saying he can tell by the bento box it came in.” Elska now seems to get it as well.

“Baby? When did you eat yellow fish?” Naoya approaches her with a coy smile as the remaining members in the room sigh in frustration, thinking he was too dense to comprehend. Megumi scoffs being out of the loop and apparently feels ashamed of Naoya’s gestures. When within arm’s reach, Naoya snags Elska by the hip and kisses her cheek while whispering, “We will protect you princess.”. He feels her pull away only enough to look into his eyes. He knows she trusts him, it’s written all over her face and nothing could make him happier.

Elska is lost in Naoya’s warm expression until a realization hits her, “Does…does that mean they saw…everything?”. She becomes completely uncomfortable at the thought and welcomes Naoya’s arms as they wrap around her fully this time. While burying her face into his chest, she can feel the bass from his voice as he laughs awkwardly above her. ‘Greeeaaaaat…’.

“Well at least it was worth watching…I can attest to that!”, Gojo’s eyes brighten as he recalls the three of them on the bed. ‘It was…perfection.’. Nanami sends narrow eyes over to him which he can feel instantly and against his rowdier judgement, decides to leave it at that.

Toji scoffs while looking at Gojo, “You’re the fucking worst, you do know that, right?”. He’s never been able to stand Satoru’s need to gloat about everything, especially when it comes to her.

Gojo warps himself behind Elska, “Oh…but she loves it…” and ruts his pelvis into her rear.

Naoya uses his projection technique to pull her away afterward, “You’re too fucking much Gojo, don’t expect that shit to happen again.”. He actually really enjoyed the threesome for the most part but sees that he stoked an already heated fire within Gojo by participating. ‘This guy is not right in the head!’.

“Sati! Why would you do that in front of everyone?!”, She’s not felt Naoya’s technique first hand like that and stumbled with collecting herself after being moved with such speed. ‘Did he seriously just hump me?’.

Nanami yells, “SATORU!”, with absolute disapproval as Megumi scowls heavily beside him.

Choso loses himself in thought after hearing Gojo’s mischievous giggles. ‘Do they know that this connects their energy to us? I can tell when they’re spying…’. He twirls the box within his fingertips in his pocket as he tries to formulate an explanation as to why the Titers left it behind if this was genuine. He looks back over to Toji now, ‘Is he really ok? What did this do to him?’. Choso’s eyes now take to Megumi and his heart sinks knowing that they’ve only just begun their father and son relationship officially, ‘I have to figure this out before it’s too late.’. He still hears the voices of everyone else but doesn’t register that his name is being called. The surging energy from the box also ceases and he quietly states, “I think they’re done for now…”.

Toji sighs, “Thank god, those fucking creeps have nothing better to than to use ourselves against us.”.

Naoya and Elska both relax into each other knowing they can likely move more freely now. Naoya smiles at her but then continues what they were originally talking about. “I’ll get you some sweets baby!”. He now turns to Choso who is still in his own mind, “Cho!”, Naoya is waving at his friend, “Does that sound alright to you?”.

Elska chimes in, “I swear I won’t bite you again!”, she looks around to everyone, “Although I am due for a feed soon…”.

Naoya gasps, “Well I’ll stay too!”. He’s weary of her feeding from Choso for many reasons, his personal ones at the forefront though.

Toji huffs, “I think you two should make yourselves scarce when we come back.”, his vision glaring between Naoya and Gojo. “You two have had enough today.”.

Gojo wants to say something smart to rile Toji up but decides that maybe that wasn’t such a huge demand. He looks to Naoya and whines, “Let Toji feed her tonight…”. He kicks at nothing to display his disappointment but knows that he owes the giant this much at least.

Naoya grabs her hands now and looks down to her with his weak protest, “Baaaby…”, but then sighs as he can understand where Gojo is coming from, “…Ok…but tomorrow you feed from me!”. He smiles gleefully as he secures one of his favorite past times. Of course, he enjoys the feeling her bite surges through him but more than anything else, he loves how much she enjoys drinking from him. It certainly makes him feel needed and with all of the testosterone surrounding her now, he appreciates the affirmations he receives from her, this one especially. ‘If only I had my own fangs…’.

“If she drinks too much of you boy, she’ll get fucking cavities.”. Toji laughs to his own joke though as he meant nothing foul by it, he’s actually surprised he didn’t receive more resistance from either of them on the matter of feeding.

“What are you guys about to do?” Choso now feels he missed something important.

Elska and Gojo chuckle at the fact that Choso indeed tuned them all out moments ago.

“They’re going on a food run while you stay with me, if that’s ok!”. Elska smiles and continues, “You can take a shower too if you want, I won’t leave the room but you’ll still have privacy in there.”. She walks over to the bathroom and pulls out a fresh towel from a neat stack that lays on iron shelving next to the tub.

“And make sure you’re clothed when you leave the bathroom…”, Gojo’s tries to make his tone lighter but he’s serious. “I saw what you’re hiding underneath those clothes, you thick ass stallion!”, and laughs to Choso’s widening eyes.

Choso recalls Gojo complimenting his body before and becomes flustered by the accusations being launched at him and quickly defends himself, “Elska! I promise I wouldn’t try to do anything sexy to you!”. He hears Gojo roar into laughter and anchors his eyebrows in a way that show the silver shaman that he’s been teased enough for one day.

“I would hope not.” Megumi makes his quiet presence known again as he’s only just calmed down after seeing his sensei hump her…and then there’s the feeding. He turns his nose up and hollers while leaving for the door with Nanami, “GIVE HER SOME SPACE.”.

“Doll, I’ll be right back alright?” He grins when she nods in anticipation and he can sense that she’s as eager to feed from him as he is to feed her.

“Umm…I will too, don’t forget that part old man…”, Naoya finally releases his hands from her as he forces himself away and towards the door. “Be right back baby!” He blows her a kiss from the doorway but waits impatiently for Gojo to make his exit.

Gojo now grabs her hands and with a serious face says, “Love, just be careful and wait for Toji. We will back after you have some time.” He smiles, “Don’t bite Choso in case it’s related to that other you ok?” He kisses her on the forehead gently before stepping back and taking in her comfortable and casual appearance while relishing on his recent lush memories of them. He glances to Choso, “If anything happens, make a portal to Naoya but we should be back really soon.

Choso nods and is glad that there was reiteration over him being the source of her nourishment. ‘Gojo is far more intelligent than he typically lets on…’. After everyone leaves the room, the silence engulfs them. “I uhh…I guess I will take a shower now.”, and dutifully heads into the bathroom.

“Wait there’s a trick!” Elska rushes past the door before he can close it in order to reach the faucet. The temperature designated knobs are actually reversed and she didn’t want Choso to fall victim to ignorance’s cruelty. Once adjusted, she stands up tall and smiles, “Now, you’re all set!”.

“I tend to take lengthy showers, please do not be alarmed by this.” Choso feels the steam beginning to take form and is ready to wash the day away. She giggles and says “That’s totally fine, relax a bit.” Before switching on the fan and shutting the door behind her. As he undresses, he folds his new pajamas neatly on the counter, planning to put them back on when he’s finished. For a moment he freezes as this doesn’t make sense, how can he watch her while he bathes? ‘Oh, they were way ahead of me with this one…’. He forms his observer window, focuses it on her and leaves the curtain parted so he can check it from time to time.

Elska isn’t sure why but as soon as the words, “Relax a bit” left her, she felt the urge to do so herself. “Well…he did say he takes long showers…and they’re no longer watching us…”, she walks over to Choso’s unintentional gift and honestly just wants to try it. After grabbing it, she cautiously makes her way back to the bed, dropping her new ace sweatpants to the floor before laying on her back. Her mind brings her back to Naoya and Satoru taking her and becomes flooded with arousal. “That really was…amazing.”. Her nimble fingers press the tiny rubber button located on the bottom of the little pink mouse and jumps with excitement when it turns on. ‘This shouldn’t take much time at all!’, and gleams to its vibrational impact. The thought of Naoya extracting her pheromones and orgasms while Satoru filled her mouth sends a sensation between her thighs before the vibrator ever reached its target. She self consciously listens for any sudden movement in the bathroom, wondering why she was really about to do this right now. ‘I just feel like I need to…’, but is trying to ignore the fact that she’s seen plenty of action for one day, at least normally. Once the silicone bullet reaches her clitoris, her body tenses up by the sensations it sends through her and she quietly gasps with a wide smile.

Choso is rinsing his hair, enjoying the scented products that fall and mix into the water. ‘How does my hair feel this smooth after just shampoo?’, he’s amazed and feeling anew. After applying the thick conditioner, he decides to read the ingredients from the bottle located at the other end of the tub. When he grabs it, he turns to check his observer window to make sure everything is alright. “Oh my…”. His eyes are wide and the shock from what he’s seeing steals his attention thus causing the shampoo bottle to be dropped onto his foot. “OW!”.

Elska hears the commotion and immediately closes her legs for cover. She’s panting lightly as she was already pretty close to being done with this test drive but still calls out, “Chos…Choso? Are you alright in there?!”. She sits up as she listens carefully for a response.

“I uhhh…Yea!! I’m great! Just…dropped something!”. Choso feels his heart pounding through him and when he looks down can see his chest beat along with it. ‘I should’ve just told her the truth!’, he panicked though. He stands at the end of the tub where the water barely touches him as he breathlessly waits for a sign that she’d either stop or continue. ‘Does she not know I’m observing her?’. He watches her settle back into the bed but has failed to notice his instant erection until this point and whispers, “Damnit…”. When she places the mouse back on her sensitive areas, he can see her face twist in pleasure and cannot help himself. Choso begins to stoke his member as his human desires take over and shudders to the wonderful sensations it sends through him. Elska moans quietly but Choso is audibly attached to his window so he hears it. He watches her placement of the toy and is surprised to see that it’s used to for surface features rather than being for inside. He continues to pump his hand, gaining speeding even while the water threatens to stop his motions, moaning himself as he studies the visual before him. “Women…they’re such…beautiful creatures…”, he whispers through his small gasps.

Elska is working towards her climax, intermittently edging herself when she feels she’s too close, not wanting to end the pleasure so soon. She thinks about how Toji always tries to stimulate her with his hands while he works himself into her, causing her toes to curl. ‘Toji and this would be incredible…’, she pictures him with his wings and fangs out, using his mass to pin her against the bed as he thrusts through her. In this fantasy, he would hold the mouse down against her, forcing her to endure the bliss while locking glowing eyes. “Holy…oh…yes…”, she whines out underneath her breath as she feels her moisture gather. She imagines him smugly smirk above her before saying, “Doll, you’re so fucking wet for me.”, but realizes that would be much more of a Satoru thing.

Choso is no longer even bathing by this point but has opened the curtains further so he can still receive the warmth from the water as he continues towards his own relief. Every time her body arches or she whispers confirmation to how good she’s feeling, his hand increases speed by itself. He looks down to see how unbearably hard he is and bites his lip as his vision takes back to his technique. His mind is plaguing him as he doesn’t have a direct desire to sleep with her but she’s always the subject of his sexual thoughts. He imagines himself sitting between her knees, administering the mouse. “Mmmm…”, he groans while thinking of her furrowed brow and flush expression being the product of his placement. His hand grips his girth and he momentarily seethes and hisses to the building rise coursing through him. He whispers her name to his own dismay, feeling that it increased his ability to reach his orgasm. The water falling down his back has become cooler but it doesn’t deter him from this interesting experience.

She is now daydreaming about Satoru’s aggressive behavior. ‘He would most definitely use this mouse as a tool to dominate.’, and the thought of him bending her over while making her hold it to herself almost makes her unravel. He’d say things like, “Awww love, what’s the matter? Can’t handle it?”, and she would have to respond to him before he’d smack her ass…but maybe she would keep quiet on purpose. He’d likely grab her by the throat and raise her up from behind so he could hear her clearly as he spreads her from within. She gasps to this and arches her body again as she nearly lost herself. Her eyes open widely though as she’s sure he would attempt anal next…but she wouldn’t necessarily fight him. ‘If I ever tell him that I actually like it, he would try it all of the time though…’, and the idea of him relentlessly trying to impale her in that manner slightly decreases her arousal.

Choso is all but minutes away from being spent. He’s staring intently into the observer’s window and ignores her change in demeanor. Instead, he’s now wondering about this taste that women provide. He still isn’t sure you’re supposed to lick them there but the probability of it being allowed makes him imagine how he would. The expression on her face is back to be pleasant so maybe if he would take his tongue to the same spot where the mouse is located, he could cause this too. His eyes are closed at this point, while he hastily grips and rhythms with his hand so when she cries out, his imagination runs wild and he imagines inserting himself into her. That was a mistake though because in this moment, he’s releasing his contents all over himself and the tub while he fails to cease his motion.

Naoya’s sweet but domineering nature saved the day. While reliving old memories of when she was his prisoner, she remembers the sexual tension that made her crave him even more. While envisioning them on their sides again, she smiles to the desperation felt that consumed her, making her take him in his sleep. “Oh…Naoyaaaaa…”. It really didn’t matter what he would try with her, Elska was likely to allow him wantonly, she trusts him fully in this realm. In her sexual dream however, he’s given glowing red eyes and golden wings. He would brush her hair aside while rocking his hips while they lay there but he’d also lean down to pierce her neck. “God pleeeeassee…”, she begs the universe to at least be able to simulate what his fangs would feel like. She cries out though in real time and releases a wave of pheromones as her legs tremble, the orgasm following immediately after. She lies there panting, not having removed the mouse from her hand, nor has she budged to change her position. Her eyes take to the little mouse though while she heaves and feels her arousal seeping out, “This was actually a wonderful gift Choso!”. She smiles and feels the cold chills that are result of her thin layer of sweat. She goes to sit herself up but finds she just doesn’t have the energy in this moment. Her eyes dart open as she recalls, “CHOSO! SHIT!”, having temporarily forgotten that he was in the bathroom, only a few feet away. She sits up tensely to gather herself as the door is pushed open. She screams, “DON’T!”. She feels so ridiculous as she knew Toji’s door no longer latched.

Choso heard her scream and although he’s a mess he launches out of the shower. “Elska! What’s wrong?!”.

Toji stands in the doorway first inhaling the scent before noticing Elska’s position and eyes the mouse next her on the bed. The fact that she wasn’t dressed on her lower half clearly gave it away. He feels himself get a little excited but its all but crushed as a wet and naked Choso barrels out of the bathroom door. “What the f…”.

Elska quickly covers herself before Choso has a chance to turn around but she can’t help but stare at him against her better judgement. His body is so refined and built, his lower half just as impressive. She doesn’t feel any desire to experience him but she can still appreciate a good work of art. When their eyes meet, Choso turns beet red and flails his hands in an attempt to shield them from his usually hidden parts. “I thought something was wrong!”.

“The fact that you’re out here butt ass naked is the something that’s wrong buddy…”, Toji glares at the being and huffs. Toji points his finger toward the door and says, “Go get some fucking clothes on! What were you doing in there to still be bathing?!”. A realization hits him and he growls at the possibility that Choso was relieving himself in his shower. “How the fuck were you planning on protecting her if you were in there the entire time?!”, Toji demands an explanation.

Choso looks away from Toji and to the floor, “Well…I was watching her still…I just multitasked.”. He can feel Toji’s presence intensify immensely and wonders if he should have just lied and apologized.

Elska folds over in the bed and curls up in embarrassment. ‘Does he mean…he watched me do that?”, she too mortified to ask or even look at either of them.

Naoya now walks through the door, “CHO! WHAT THE FUCK!?”. He sees Elska hiding in the bed and after seeing his friend’s bareness, freaks out. “WHAT DID YOU DO!?”, he runs to Elska who’s actively deflecting any interaction and he assumes the worse. “Baby! What happened?!”, He then sees the pink mouse on the bed and feels his left eye twitch. He snatches it from beside her and charges Choso, “YOU THOUGHT TO USE THIS ON HER?!”. He sees the surprise in Choso’s eyes and even through his anger, realizes that he jumped to conclusions.

Elska understands this is taking a wrong turn so she sits up again and says, “I used it on myself! Choso was just taking a shower and bolted out here when I screamed!”.

Naoya stops now, being only about a foot away from Choso. “Baby, what caused you to scream?”, he now looks at the toy with a raised eyebrow, ‘Could it really be that good?’. Choso’s eyes meet it too and the being blushes further.

“She screamed when I came through the door, boy, calm down.” Toji is now pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation to the endless web of miscommunication that spins between them. He walks over to Naoya and steals the mouse. “You guys need to scram for a few. She needs to feed and I’m tired of there being a god damn peanut gallery.”.

Choso immediately rushes into the bathroom to change as Naoya pouts while walking back to Elska. “Baby, I’m parking right next door and I’ll be back as soon as you are finished.”.

“We actually are switching rooms tonight!” Gojo now strolls in, having listened from the hall. He comprehends everything that just happened, from the dual masturbation to the sad accusations that were pointed to Choso. If he hadn’t stayed behind though Megumi would’ve seen everything before being shooed away and that’s the only thing that bothers him. ‘Toji is going to have to handle that soon…’.

“This is my room you silver fuck, I don’t want to move.”, Toji defends his messy territory that has suffered from the multiple people using it.

Elska is further jolted by Satoru’s sudden appearance but calmly asks, “What are you talking about Sati?”. She’s now quickly donning her ace pants while trying her best to make it seem like she’s no longer bothered by what may have taken place with Choso. ‘I’m just glad that topic got skipped over…’.

“We’re going to a bigger room, with a bigger bed.” Gojo winks at her as he’s still bent on proving to her that the additional company can be worked with. “But you two can still feed here, I’ll have Naoya and Choso help me set everything up!”. His eyes take to Toji, “Surely you can understand why this room’s defenses are no longer suitable…”. He glances to Elska and brings his palms up to the situation they’re in with an expression that says, “Think about it.”.

“I swear if it’s poorly designed, I’m going to snap. Color scheme and layout is everything Gojo…”, Naoya rolls his eyes as he’s really not in the position to refuse lodging but wishes he didn’t have to share everything with his cousin and him.

Toji howls, “You fucking broke the door in the first place you cunt!”. He never knows how far the silver shaman will go but is slowly wondering if there are any boundaries at all. Becoming further irritated, he starts to manually push everyone towards hall. “Get the fuck out!”. Naoya is still protesting to being forced to leave even as Toji shuts the door in his face, hearing his whining through the wood. “Jesus Christ…they’re such fucking handful…”.

Elska giggles to Toji’s vexation but sits on her knees as the large man returns toward her, sitting on the bed.

Naoya is still on the other side of the door, “Choso is in there you old fart!”.

Toji’s eyes narrow to the bathroom but before he can say anything, Choso quickly races out with soaking hair and practically runs to the door leading to the hallway. He now sighs and slouches over on the edge of the bed, “Doll…sometimes it’s so much to navigate through…”, he looks to her, “…are you not overwhelmed by all of this?”. His hand finds it’s way to her cheek after he orients his body more towards her. They’re eyes respond to each other, him not knowing who’s began glowing first.

“It is…a lot…”. She admits while nuzzling into his hand. “…but look at how you three loners are no longer alone.”, she means it and smiles genuinely as that part does lift her heart. She watches Toji scoot back onto the bed but to his knees and her teeth peer through her lips as she gathers he’s getting straight to it. With slow motion, she crawls over top of him until she’s perfectly seated in his lap and his arms are securing her body against him. Looking down from now overhead, she chuckles, “Just like our first time…”, and brushes his hair from his face as she happily takes in the details of his rugged features. “I’m really sorry about earlier Toji…I really wasn’t expecting Sati to take us away like that. I really wasn’t expecting any of it actually.”.

Toji can sense her guilt and feels like he should address his prior purpose. “Doll, I was just worried Gojo was taking things too far…like before. I didn’t trust that he would have your best interest at heart which is why I was so angry.”. He lifts his chin so he can tuck her head underneath it while holding her, “I am with you no matter what, never forget that.”. Toji closes his eyes as he feels her relax and cackles, “Naoya already said he wasn’t going to do that again but I feel like Gojo will still try.”. He pulls her away and bends his neck to the side to give her full access with a smile.

“You’re too good for me, Toji…”, she laments while eyeing his neck. Instead of immediately biting him though she turns his head back towards her for a deep and passionate meeting of the lips. He responds by send his tongue into her mouth, causing her to whimper as she grips his sleek black hair with her right hand while holding his throat with her left, not even meaning to. Both of their fangs form as soon as he breaks their lustrous kiss and he again positions his head to the side as she lowers her own. She can hear him groan as her teeth skip across the skin of his neck and right as she’s about to puncture him, Satoru’s presence can be felt.

“LOVE WAIT!” He runs over to the bed as Elska didn’t seem to even flinch. “Choso made a valid point!”, Toji’s glowing eyes finally meet his so he continues, “If Toji has Titer energy in him, this is about to be another fucking catastrophe!”.

Toji swiftly blocks Elska from his neck and rolls over so she’s pinned to the bed, being startled by her reaction.

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levisnackajack · 4 years ago

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The Wrath of War

Chapter Twenty Two

Tender sun rays whisked Eden’s cheeks soothingly.

Through closed eyelids, she could still feel the light beaming through the glass window; washing over everything in the room; including her physiognomy. Her arm extended against the mattress; as though she was blindly searching for the contact of cool skin under her fingertips.

But, all she did was graze over the washed out duvet cover. Blinking rapidly, she carefully slipped her eyes open, arching her back as she stretched- like a slender cat equipping herself for a heavy day out on the cobbled streets of Trost.

She had memorized the room’s layout all too well; every single detail etching itself into the back of her brain as she recollected the heated position she had been placed in by Captain Levi. Gingerly, Eden pressed her fingertips against her lips; the taste of him still lingering, the softened flesh cracked and bruised.

According to her muddled up thoughts; she had passed out in the bed after being gifted with the carnal opportunity of kissing Captain Ackerman. The thought of his blown-out pupils gazing down at her in such a wanton way made heat rush through her body like adrenaline; despite the fact that she had only just woken up a few minutes prior.

The harnesses lay draped over the armchair; her body clothed with just her shirt and her pants. Eden was way too anxious to remove her clothing during the night; afraid that Levi’s glinting, silver eyes would scorch her body and she’d give in way too easily.

Resting her back against the headboard; she looked through the window with a blank look painted on her face; her knees pressed against her chest. She wondered where he had gone; whether he regretted it all, whether he wanted more.

Whether he was feeling the same way she was.

The front door creaked open and the sound of boots resonated through the spacious room. Eden’s eyes flitted towards the motion; only to be met with Levi’s uniformed back as he moved to close the door behind him.

Once he turned back in her direction; his eyes widened at the feline look that bore through him. He had two teacups in his hand; the steam grazing across his palms as it ascended out from the liquid.

“I brought you tea.” Levi spoke first in a low voice as he stalked across the room; gently handing Eden one of the teacups before lowering himself to sit beside her.

“Thank you,” she replied, shyly accepting the beverage with an unsteady hand and flustered cheeks. Levi regarded her intently through hooded eyes as her lips pressed against the orifice of the cup.

The tea was sweet and fruity- almost floral. Her stomach flipped when Levi rested his hand on the top of her knee.

Putting the teacup back onto the saucer resting on the nightstand; Eden perked up against the headboard, amber eyes glued to dull leaden-blue ones. His hand began trailing up her thigh. Her lungs begged for air as her heart grew stuck in her throat; lips parting slightly.

“I liked watching you struggle under me last night,” Levi breathed out; the hand on her thigh growing stronger. His words were like molten lava flaming her entire body up.

Levi swiftly used the grip on her body to pull her downwards, her head falling back into the pillows. Within a matter of seconds, he moved his body to tower over her, the darkened glint in his eyes revealing carnal fantasies making Eden’s own eyes widen. His knee pressed in between her legs as he lowered his head; promptly capturing her lips with his. She hissed at the sensation of his knee brushing against her; her arms snaking around his neck as she deepened the kiss.

His lips were gentler as opposed to the kisses he had peppered her with the night before. They were silky and smooth; but sharp enough to slice through the built-up tension in the room. Letting out a low, guttural groan, Eden’s body arched into him as his hand roamed her body over her clothes. His fingertips dragged painfully slowly over the curve of her breast, following the path along her slender waist before finally settling to squeeze her hip.

Eden let out another softened mewl against his lips when his own hips brushed against hers and his kisses grew more brutal. Her sweet sounds caused the Captain to hiss in pleasure against her lips; teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

“You’re being a tease,” the girl groaned as he sucked on her lip, a subdued growl reverberating out of him as he slipped his eyes shut.

“Where’s the pleasure in the lack of torture, brat?” His cool fingers raked through her hair before tucking on the locks lightly; causing her chin to jut out to the side. He used her angled head to kiss her neck; deeply enjoying the way Eden’s eyes fluttered closed, her fingers gliding over his sharp undercut.

Eden felt like time was slipping through her fingers in such a rapid pace. It was like the next breath she took was about an hour later; when both her and the Captain’s lips were bruised and swollen.

He left her to change in peace and as Eden clasped the hook of her green cape around her neck, the scent of his cologne overwhelmed her senses once more. Every little flicker of her eye, every pant she took, every sensation that garnished her fingertips caused her to immediately think back to him.

She had never known what the term ‘forbidden fruit’ had meant until she was met with Levi’s cold lips.

Much to her surprise, Levi had offered to take her out on a tour around Trost. Albeit the painful memories of her first battle within this district playing out behind her eyes; she accepted, listening intently to the way the Captain informed her about another, undisclosed task that was hushed-up between himself and Commander Erwin.

Walking side-by-side, Eden refrained from asking why he had made her wait for him outside a sketchy pub. He came back out hastily, his eyes disinterested and narrowed- the clench of his jaw revealing that whomever he had met with inside the establishment, had also left him with a bitter taste on his tongue.

The passers stole nervous glances at the two soldiers; but neither of them paid any attention as they walked along the paved streets of the busy district.

“I remember this area. I believe this was the place you and I met for the first time,” Eden broke the comfortable silence, extending an arm to indicate the familiar rooftop from which she had sprinted off in order to save her friends from an impending death during the Battle of Trost.

Levi’s eyes flickered towards the highlighted region before letting out an agitated sigh, his eyes shifting away quickly. “Yes. I had only known you for perhaps less than thirty seconds and your temerity managed to piss me off beyond anything.”

Eden huffed under her breath, running a hand through her hair in irritation. She didn’t know what had possessed her to loop an arm around his when he quickened his pace.

But, she couldn’t ignore the way Levi’s body stiffened. His steps grew slower and the way they walked so close to one another caused their capes to mangle and brush with each step.

They strode back towards the lodging; but Levi redirected their strides in a different direction. It was narrow, colder and darker than the sunny, open streets they had previously walked through.

“A shortcut,” was all he had said in response to the quizzical look he felt pierce through the side of his face.

Within the darkened alleyway; Eden’s heart began racing as she imagined an opportunity to feel his lips against hers once more arise. As if he could read every single fleeting thought in her head, Levi grabbed the arm laced through his; pressing her up against the cold wall with a thud.

No time was wasted on words as his mouth found hers urgently, as though her lips were the only source of water in the entire district. His palms lay against either side of her face as he drank her in; his body leaning against hers when Eden’s knees threatened to give out. Her nails dragged against the path of his neck as she called for him softly, her brows laced together revealing just how much pleasure Levi’s touch was bringing her.

Her tongue dragged itself against his bottom lip, tasting the sweetness of the tea he was previously drinking. There was something about the way Levi’s lips tasted that left Eden feeling utterly intoxicated.

The Captain pulled away from her swiftly, his breathing unsteady, his pupils blown out. His lips curled up lightly in a wicked smirk as he watched Eden’s messed-up persona- her mangled locks, parted lips and drunken look on her face.

“Don’t you think your disheveled appearance calls for punishment, brat?” Levi’s dull voice rippled through the silence, causing Eden to straighten up and arch a brow at him.

She glided her palms over her uniform, clearing her throat under his scrutinizing stare. “What happens when my appearance is solely caused by your doings, Captain?”

The smirk deepened, the twitches in his jaw visible in the darkness and he stepped forward, brushing his fingers through her hair.

Shoving the strands behind her ear, he leaned in, the sensation of his iced lips scraping her ear sending chills along the path of her spine. “That means you have no one to go sob to if I ever decide to discipline you for it, Chiasa.”

Riding back to the Headquarters was comforting. They eased into a relaxing conversation and Eden’s cheeks would flush ever so often. Her horse stood galloping within close proximity to the Captain's and the glacier winds grazed her face, numbing it completely.

“You can be honest and admit to enjoying my company, Captain,” Eden asserted through a large grin, the corners of her amber eyes crinkling when Levi glanced in her direction.

“Tch,” he scoffed, but his somewhat nonchalant mask revealed how unbothered he was by her playful demeanor. “If you’re just trying to rank up by messing around with your Captain, that’s not how it works, brat.”

His snarky response caught the girl off-guard and she let out a high-pitched, sheepish laugh. Levi’s head snapped back towards her; staring at her in wonder. This was perhaps the first time Eden had let out a hearty, full and raw laugh.

She cringed at herself, lowering her head, allowing her hair to curtain her blazing cheeks.

“But, we do make a good team,” Levi spoke once more, easing his horse into a slower gallop as soon as its pants began ringing through the wilderness.

“Oh? I apologize for the confusion, but was that a compliment?” Eden inquired, finally lifting her head after taming the blossoming blush that had engraved itself into her skin.

The Captain hummed flatly over the clattering sound of hooves. After a long pause, his deep voice asserted itself into the space between them. “Take it as you will. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if you stopped doubting everything I say to you.”

Eden chewed on her bottom lip as she listened to his voice. It was like she was in trance, afraid to think about how quickly she’d agree to any sort of order Levi sends her way.

Lost in the vortex of her thoughts, the girl nearly missed the words that slipped through his lips.

Nearly.

“I don’t like seeing you with Kirstein.”

It was so out of the blue, Eden couldn’t respond to him immediately. Silence settled around them as the sun slowly began descending into its usual space for slumber.

“What do you mean?” Her eyes were trained ahead of her, her knuckles growing white as the palms holding onto her horse’s reins became increasingly dampened with sweat.

“It’s hard to believe you’re actually this dense, Eden,” Levi countered, his own knuckles growing paler as he finally urged his horse to gallop faster. Eden followed him, trying her best to match his pace.

“Anyway,” he continued coolly, the shift in his demeanor causing Eden to physically become overwhelmed with dread. “That’s all I wanted to say.”

“Jean is just a friend,” she replied in irritation, very much aware of the way his head craned back towards her, eyes narrowed and filled with displeasure.

“Didn’t seem like that when I caught you two in the stables. Or when I came to visit you in the infirmary...-”

“I’ll have you know, Captain,” she sliced through his words, lucid rage overwhelming her as each syllable trickled out of his mouth.

“Jean and I are just friends. Yes, we’ve had our moments, but that was it. Just moments. And when you saw him with me in the medical quarters; it’s because he came to tell me he couldn’t do anything with me anymore. He also let me in on the fact that it was not his name I called out when he saved me from the titan...it was yours.” She took a deep breath before her furrowed brows raised. “Still feeling jealous?”

He didn’t respond. In fact, Levi didn’t even look at her. His gaze was focused straight ahead at the forthcoming sight of the familiar trees surrounding their base.

After a while, all he did was scoff.

Arriving back at the headquarters was very anticlimactic.

Levi was back to being cold and butthurt and Eden could only seethe in silence. He strapped his horse away in the stables and stalked off, not even shedding Eden a single flicker of eye contact.

Despite the irritation coiling inside her body, the girl continued on with her day as usual- going to greet her friends and spend some time with Sasha and Connie.

Sometime later in the afternoon, the sensation of overthinking ebbed at her consciousness way too much for her to handle. So, balling her palms into fists, Eden marched towards the Corporal’s office.

Just as her knuckles were about to rap against his door for the very first time; it creaked open, and she was met with Levi’s widened eyes.

“Ah. I was just looking for you, brat.”

She blushed, lashes flickering downwards as the color painted her cheeks sweetly. Following him back inside the office, her stomach was plagued with butterflies that never stopped fluttering around. Levi abruptly spun back to face her; his eyes glinting with a strange flame that lay unknown in Eden’s book.

“I wanted to give you something,” he murmured, stepping closer to her. “Close your eyes.”

Eden watched at him with wide eyes, unsure as to how she had to react. Levi’s head tilted to the side, the longer strands of raven-hair in sync with his movements. “Do you trust me?”

She swallowed hard and barely managed to utter out a weak- “Sure?”

His nod was the last thing she saw before slipping her eyes shut; nervousness overwhelming her. She listened to the way his boots echoed around the office; the sound of a door creaking open. Her palms grew sweaty and her heart was racing.

His footsteps began growing closer, until she felt his presence burst through her personal space. “Give me your hand,” he instructed her in a creamy smooth tone that sent chills through her bloodstream.

Eden did exactly that, feeling the way his fingers gripped at her wrist, guiding her hand outwards. She stiffened when her own fingers captured something that had the texture of hardened wood. Pulling her hand away, she jumped back, as though she had been burnt with fire. Levi was watching her intently, a broomstick in hand.

“Go clean the stables.”

Her dumbfounded expression was the only thing filling the silence for a very long moment. “Are you being serious right now?”

Levi cocked a brow as he stepped forward, handing her the broomstick once more. “Am I ever ‘not serious’ about cleaning?”

With a huff and the clench of her teeth, Eden snatched the broom out of his grasp before stalking out of his office- feeling even more outraged.

Cleaning seemed to do justice to her nerves. Being surrounded by nothing but dirt and things that needed to be organized tended to Eden’s thoughts and slowly she began feeling like each time she straightened out one part of the stables; another slice of her anger wore off somewhere into the distance.

Not long after, gentle footsteps brushed against the stable floor, a sweet voice pulling Eden out of her daydreams.

“Mikasa,” she greeted her childhood best friend warmly, walking over to rapidly throw her arms around her.

The girl returned the sudden embrace before grabbing her by the shoulders, onyx eyes taking in her ragged appearance.

“What happened? How was the mission?”

Eden’s ears quickly grew red as she stepped back, nervously laughing. “What do you mean? Everything went fine? Why would you ask me that, heh...”

Her defensive demeanor did not go unnoticed by the 104th Training Corps’ top soldier who in turn narrowed her eyes at the girl. Mikasa quirked a brow and a low sigh escaped through Eden’s lips.

“The change of setting was pleasant. Everything went well. But, the man we met with was disgusting. He kept sending the most vile remarks my way; I don’t even wanna think about it. He was just gross.” She cringed at the memory as she spoke.

Mikasa glared at her friend, her arms folding across her chest. “And what? Captain Shorty just stood there and said nothing? Unbelievable...-”

“No no no!” Eden quickly interrupted her, rubbing the back of her neck as her cheeks grew pink. “He was the one who stepped in and warned Reeves not to speak to me like that. It was a nice gesture...”

The girl opposite her stared into amber eyes, her own black ones widening as she extended one hand to point at her. “What’s with that look on your face, Eden?”

Eden pursed her lips, trying her best to calm any raging blush that tried settling against her skin. “What look, Mikasa? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Blackened jewels for eyes narrowed even more. “You’re an open book to me; don’t forget that.”

The sound of approaching boots crunched against the pebbles. Eden frowned deeply and Mikasa turned to glance behind her shoulder. Giving Eden’s arm a gentle squeeze, the female Ackerman gave her a faint smile before stepping away.

“You’ll tell me about him when you’re ready.”

Both Ackerman soldiers stiffly nodded as they passed each other. Eden stared at the Captain that inched closer; his bored stare bouncing from one surface to another. She waited for him to say something, but the man took his sweet time checking the stables and her work.

“Did I do something wrong?” She finally couldn’t take it anymore, her frown carefully turning into a scowl as her eyes followed his moves.

Levi slowly turned back to face her, his eyes finally resting against the frame of her face. “Yeah. Your cleaning is atrocious. Go over everything again.”

Eden watched him walk away with her mouth wide open. When she was sure he was definitely out of sight, she swore loudly before kicking a bucket of water across the brushed-out ground.

Whatever. I gotta redo everything, anyway.

An hour later, he was back. His eyes were a softer shade of grey, but he still maintained his distance, much to Eden’s growing displeasure.

With a tight nod, Levi approved her cleaning before jutting his chin towards the exit. “Let’s go. We’ll debrief with Commander Erwin.”

She sulkily followed him out of the stables, albeit the way her heart melted when he sent her a sideways glance that disappeared as quickly as it arrived.

This time, the Corporal led her into an unfamiliar office. The layout was definitely similar to Levi’s office; but the window behind the desk was larger and grander. Deep down, Eden preferred the comforts of Levi’s meticulously sterilized office more than Erwin’s one.

The Commander stood to his feet when the pair walked in, brushing Eden’s salute away nonchalantly. His full height intimidated Eden and it took all within her not to visibly shrink in her boots.

“Captain Levi...soldier Chiasa...it’s good to see you’re back. I can safely assume everything went according to plan?”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Levi drawled out, scowling deeply at the way Erwin’s lips curved into a impish smirk. Eden chose to look down at her boots as Levi summarized the gist of their assignment to the attentive Commander who had leaned back down into his chair, his elbows resting against the wood of his desk, fingers linked together.

His brows raised at the mention of Reeves’ attitude towards Eden. “When I send my Scouts out on a mission; I do not intend for such things to happen. However, sometimes it’s inevitable as there are all sorts of animals- not only beyond the walls; but within them too. And for that, I feel the need to apologize to you, Eden.”

Her cheeks pinkened and she immediately looked down at the floor once more. “I understand that as soldiers, not all situations are pleasant. Regardless of whether it’s during a fight with a titan or when it's just having a simple conversation with a merchant. Thank you, Commander, but you don’t need to apologize. Captain Levi stepped in and put him in his place, anyhow.”

When Eden looked up, she saw the same devious smirk plastered against Erwin’s features. His ocean eyes glinted under the faint light emitted from the several oil lamps situated around the room. She even got the chance to notice Levi’s sharp glower that was directed towards the blond man.

Erwin nodded and muttered something under his breath, his eyes flickering off the Captain and onto the perplexed girl. “Isn’t that wonderful? Well, thank you for the information and your presence. You’re dismissed, soldier. Levi, please stay behind.”

Clasping her fist over her heart, Eden bid both men a good evening before walking out of the office hastily.

Walking through the corridors, her mind couldn’t stop rewinding the look that was carved onto Erwin’s face; the twinkle in his eyes, the stretched out smirk against his lips and the way his eyes kept holding the Corporal’s stare before flickering back to her.

Tags: @idiot-juice-enthusiast @hadassackerman

Link to the story in A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919136/chapters/70952145

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fanficsrusz · 5 years ago

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Random Prompt #2

Prompt: How would John react to running into someone he knew from the Ruska Roma in the Continental.

》 Pairing: John Wick x Reader

》 Warnings: Angst

》 Word Count: 2k

》 Requests by: Anon

》 A/n: I don’t even know why i’m calling these drabbles at this point, it’s literally a full on fic. Anyway, I hope you like it since I don’t normally do angsty fics like this but there’s a first time for everything. Please leave a comment and feedback as well as like/ reblog <3.

》 Gif Credit (x). Thank you and we appreciate your work for creating the gif.

The time y/n had last saw him, just one day in a lifetime of sorrow, surrounded by death and pain- she wanted to take him by the hand and lead him away. She wanted to walk with him, talk with him, but they had to follow the rules of their social decorum set out by the high table.

John was her friend, is her friend, a kindred spirit, but the opposite gender.

She didn't want to hurt him, cheat or lie - she just wanted to be able to tell him that she loved him and know that he loved her too.

She remembered the day she last saw him, the pleading look in his eyes as he told her to "run" to "get out before it was too late". She remembered the way he embraced her, pushing documents of a new identity into her hands before leading her down a tunnel and away from a life that he couldn't escape.

She cried and begged him to come with her but he only smiled.

That day, that breezy day, she let his voice soak in, his words, the way his eyes met hers with pure love and didn't turn away. She almost drowned in his smile.

John was the only one who truly loved her, looked after her and cared for her, and that's why he had to get her out. She didn't want to leave him there but she had no choice.

That was the last time she saw John, almost 20 years ago.

He had become a silhouette over the years, a distant memory, as if he walked from a photograph and left behind blackness. There was an ache that came and went every now and then, always returning in quiet moments of solitude, a quiet nagging in the back of her mind to know if he was okay. She wanted so much to find him again, to talk and laugh like they once did and she knew that his absence was down to her - to keep her safe.

She used to believe that in time they could be together again, close, happy... maybe then they could have something that was actually good, that had a chance of lasting.

Even Though so much time had passed, she saw him everywhere she went- in the things they both loved - in nature, in music, in silly things. So although he was gone, his aura remained, beautiful and strong, making the pain all the worse, keeping the feelings so raw.

In time she learnt new ways to cope, she always did, she was raised to be a survivor after all and the passage of time could dull many things, allow the brain to redirect, reinvest energy elsewhere.

Through the years of searching, she heard talk here and there about a man called the Baba Yaga, the skills he possessed and the tragedies he had gone through. It didn't take a genius to figure out it was her John.

In tough times she just wished he knew that she still loved him, that she would come running if he ever needed help, but their paths diverged and every step was heavy.

Today was no different. Beyond the horizon, the sun illuminated the shimmering haze of pollution that plagued the air. In the far distance, the outline of the skyline pierced through the warm glow like a jagged mountain ridge. Millions of lights caused the dense mass of skyscrapers to glitter under the setting sun. People were needle points and cars were blood cells flowing through the veins of the city, desperate to get to their destinations. Despite the time, the hustle and bustle never came to a halt. The city's residents were off to a movie or to chill out in a smoky jazz bar downtown, but y/n just wanted to get home, exhausted from work.

y/n scurried down the street towards her house, her shoes slapping against the pavement as she pushed her way through crowds until he caught her attention.

She had walked the same streets for years, seeing the same faces doing the same thing, but he was new and she was sure it was him. John. The years had taken a toll, no longer was there a youthful glow to his skin but a worn older man. The soft skin that once clung to his bones was now filled out- not fat, but the signs of aging were clear. His once short hair was long, greased back and his wrinkles around his eyes told her all she needed to know.

y/n stopped in her tracks, following him with her eyes as she watched him stride across the road and into a building that she had never even noticed before. People pushed around her, silently cursing at her for obstructing their way but she didn’t care, she had to know if it was really him.

With her heart thumping in her chest, she darted across the road and up the steps of the building - the continental hotel according to the sign outside.

y/n rushed into the hotel without a second thought that maybe it was just a random stranger who just so happened to look like him. She had to follow her heart and it was telling her it was him.

The floor was tiled in fine marble, which made every step she took echo. A chandelier made rainbow colours dance across the luxurious lobby. Embroidered silk sofas filled with people dressed to the nines filled the lobby. The twin doors that led into the lobby were a pristine white with golden handles. . Exquisite paintings hung from the rich, red walls. Even the door hinges were engraved with swirls and elegant designs. The domed ceiling rose at least 100 feet high. y/n gaped at the splendid sight. The front desk was made of amber-colored wood and a green granite top and in front of it, talking to the receptionist, stood the possible John.

Just as y/n was about to open her mouth, the receptionist looked up and took her in, his smile falling a little as his eyes darted towards two men who were instantly by her side - security.

“You're not meant to be here ” one of the men said and y/n felt panic set in. she was so close, she just wanted to know if it was him.

“No- you don’t understand” she stammered out and the men tutted, grabbing her arm and pulling her away.

In a dazed panic, she did the only thing she could do, she screamed his name.

“Jadani!”

The second the syllables left her lips, it was as if all eyes were on her except for his. The security personnel stopped moving her along, instead stopping and looking over their shoulders towards him. His back still faced her yet his shoulders seemed to stiffen. It felt like forever before he finally turned towards her and y/n knew straight away it was him.

His eyes....they were the most unforgettable thing she had ever seen and y/n had never looked upon another human being who possessed eyes of his color. To say they were brown was to call the sky simply colorful at sunset, accurate by not giving true description to their uniqueness. At first glance, y/n could certainly see the beauty they behold, the beauty she remembered but once she gazed into them deeper as he walked closer, she could see everything differently. The coffee colour was just the beginning as the etching of black and gold that seemed to intertwine around the edge of his iris. The colours mingled together, cascading an array of different shades throughout his gaze. One look into them and y/n was lost- doomed for all eternity because no one else would ever compare.

He walked closer and y/n smiled as he watched him study her face for a little longer.

John’s nostrils engulfed the delicate hint of vanilla in the air that always seemed to surround her, and with it his brain flooded with memories of her. Her face was just as pretty as the first day he saw her, her eyes twinkling with laughter and her teeth glistening as she smiled. So much time had passed since then, and all John had left of her was the occasional fleeting memory. He had lost the sound of her voice and the touch of her skin. His chest ached as he thought of what he had lost. No one had ever replaced her, and no one ever would.

y/n bit her lip, staring up at John as he towered over her. Then he moved closer with those eyes that look so deeply into her own, "Hey, it's me." she simply said. Her breathing became softer, the pensive look he held melting into a smile as soft as the morning light. Her body squirmed just a little as her muscles relaxed. There was something about his gaze of his that she'll never find in another man, as if in that moment their souls have made a bridge.

John remained silent as the security looked at John for answers.

“Do you know her, Mr Wick?” One of them finally asked and y/n nodded her head excitedly, hoping she could finally get her John back but John simply shook his head.

“No” he said calmly and y/n’s facial expression sank faster than a penny on a pond, her skin turning icy and pale as snow itself. Was she even breathing? her mind was silenced into denial and grief as John denied her existence.

y/n had opened the door to John, expecting his greeting smile, but none had come. Instead his mouth remained an uncharacteristic grim line amid his stubble as he quickly pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled on it. Almost robotically his hand rose upward and passed her the folded piece of paper, his eyes almost as still as some billboard poster.

y/n barely had time to grab it before the guards led her out and into the streets. Behind the frosted glass of the doors that slammed shut the second she was outside, she watched as John's figure drifted away and her heart sank as she stared at the paper in her hand. Unfolding the creases, y/n stared at his hand writing, her heart sinking as she read his words.

‘I’m sorry. I will always love you - John’

Her eyes dripped with tears. Her walls, the walls that hold her up, made her strong just... collapse. Moment by moment, they fell. Salty drops fell from her chin, drenching her shirt and she realised that she would never have him back.

In his eyes that she managed to see one final time was his humanity, the person he really was. However, no matter what she did, when he wore that suit stained by blood, when he became the man the world demanded of him, he was no longer her John. But y/n saw it in his eyes, the way he looked at her.. she saw the love that burned in them, the sort that lasts for an eternity. There was something in his spirit that danced, like a fire giving just the right amount of warmth.

y/n had seen it die too, the flames almost extinguished, when he was under the gun of guilt, shame and fear. She knew that wasn’t him, not the real version, the person she loved with everything that is herself. That's why she had to see him, to see the real him at least once more. He had to see her too, the girl who always loved him, who would do anything in her power to keep him safe, to keep him emotionally healthy, that made him truly happy. So when she looked into his eyes for that final time, she saw his old self and he was just as vulnerable as she remembered - he was scared because he loved her. But y/n needed that - to know that he at least still remembered her even if it meant they could never be together.

The End

Tag list (you can add yourself using the link in my bio or if you have trouble with them then just ask and I will do it for you <3) any name with a line through it means I couldn’t tag you and I don’t know why :’(

@gwenebear @celestiaelisia @blondieee-me @harrisongslimited @wittysunflower @persephonehemingway @derangedcupcake @wholelottatiffy @babygirltaina @doodooloo700 @keanu-fics @drunkonyellow @xxinvisiblexx @krazycags01 @sgt-morgan @futuristic-imbecile @assassinscross @sanctuarygirl @beyond-antares @92lnbr @imblackmagicwoman @iloveconstantine @tnu-ree @keanuarch @urlil-brat @whatcolourisanorange @moonlit-raven-haven @keanuchillz @thehoundking @madprincessinabox @lovelypapug @lunilate @moonlit-raven-haven @luckyfiction17 @kinlovecody @xo-dragonette-xo @nicimixerxoxo @a-really-bi-girl @curly-minnie @daniallh @ddl9819 @blondekel77 @plaidshirtsandpizza @marvelsbitch123 @bluelunam @reddhead95 @sagekeanu @scarletmoon83 @mrspeacem1nusone @paanchu786 @the-thighs-of-betrayal @mary-ann84 @messingniall @awessomness @angelic-kisses13 @gian-giannina @keanureeefs @dr-kayleigh-dh @ficsnroses @penwieldingdreamer @KaptajnBellaMus @notyourtypicalrose @eevee-of-rivia @loversxparadise @lunaeminxxx @everyday-imfangirling @greenmanalishi @green-forest-dreams @classycarlos @living-in-the-darkness @ginger-tiger @keandrews @trippedmetaldetector @omg-imagine @thehumanistsdiary @21bruhs @danceofthewolves @softrogers

#John Wick #john wick drabble #john wick x reader #john wick ff #Keanu Reeves

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mamichigo · 5 years ago

Text

Title: glass bottles

Pairing: Kokichi/Shuichi

Rating: G

Word count: 2,1k

Tags: Fantasy, Fairytale Elements, Phantom Thief Thief Kokichi (with a twist), First kiss

Summary: Shuichi has something of his stolen in the quiet of night, by a boy with mischief in his eyes.

Notes: Gift for participant #29 in the @kokichigiftexchange

Shuichi had seen them only briefly. One glimpse of a large smile with sharp teeth and purple eyes that seemed to glow. They were light on their feet, quiet as the night as they made it inside Shuichi's room on their tiptoes, like a particularly graceful ballerina. Shuichi didn't have a chance to speak up before the person raised a hand and blew glittering powder into his face. He had collapsed on the spot, but not before the mysterious person supported his swaying body by keeping a hand on his back and another to the back of his head.

The next morning, Shuichi woke up with glitter in his hair and on his fingers, along with a sense that something had gone wrong. Or, like something had gone missing.

He didn't realize the source of that impression until his friend, noticing Shuichi failed to react at all to upsetting events, joked that maybe his emotions had been snatched while he wasn't looking. Kaede had also been startled when he pinned her with an intense gaze and agreed with a terse nod.

"Is it really possible to steal someone's emotions?" Shuichi asked.

Kaede, never one to ignore even his silliest remarks when he was serious about it, put a hand to her chin. "It's not impossible around these parts. I might have heard something like that before, but it's more of a story to scare children than an existing fact."

"But we can't say for sure it doesn't exist?"

"That's right."

Satisfied, Shuichi relented and allowed the topic to change. As soon as he was done, Shuichi set out to research if there was any chance that he had been robbed of his emotions after all. After days of talking to more people than he was comfortable with, Shuichi found somewhat of a specialist (or so that was what he claimed to be). He had an oppressing, almost scary aura to him, but the man spoke of tails that made Shuichi go a little bit starry-eyed.

"Spirits are quite the trick loving bunch," Korekiyo explained over a cup of tea, "perhaps to compensate for what they didn't have the chance to do in life."

"So they're dead…?"

Though Shuichi couldn't see Korekiyo's mouth, he was sure he was smiling somewhat mockingly. "Yes, that would be the logical conclusion."

Shuichi hummed and looked down at his hands. Maybe he'd feel a little sad for this person, if they hadn't stolen his ability to do so.

"Is there any chance for me to find them?"

"Luckily for you, I have many reasons to believe you've encountered a spirit I'm already familiar with."

From the subsequent long monologue that he listened to, Shuichi extracted two important pieces of information: go north, find the closed orphanage that stands at the top of the hill; and, his little robber was apparently a boy who called himself a phantom thief. Or rather, the Phantom Thief, capitalized. Shuichi was doubtful that was his true name.

Nonetheless, Shuichi set out just as instructed. On the sunset of the next day, Shuichi had found himself facing the building that looked a bit like an abandoned church rather than an orphanage, if only because all the windows were stained glass colored vibrant red and pink, for the most part. Shuichi squinted at the building as he struggled to catch his breath.

Though Korekiyo had believed the opposite, Shuichi didn't feel safe, after all. Even a village kid as him knew the stories about people who encountered spirits and never came back afterwards, and knew even more of the ones who returned but not as themselves. Shuichi clutched the sleeves of his shirt.

While he pondered if he should go in or not, the doors slammed open on their own. A giggling voice could be heard, distant; a whistle of the wind. Shuichi tensed up, but shrugged to himself. That was as much of a friendly invitation as he would get, he decided.

The atmosphere inside the orphanage was strange, but perhaps only because he passed rows and more rows of open bedrooms, with beds as small as the ones he used to have in his room when he was nothing but a child. The place was covered in dust and debris, as well as wildlife, like it had been standing so long it was now splitting at the seams.

Though Shuichi was sure he had been wandering without aim, his feet took him to the only room that seemed lived in, to a sense. The dining hall had a table in the middle that went on for miles, and it was the first object Shuichi saw in here that was not dirty. It was also lined with candles in fancy candelabra, making the room just a bit too warm.

The room changed once he stepped properly into it. The bare, rotting walls were now covered in an intricate, elegant wallpaper; the table was surrounded by too tall chairs with plushy looking cushions; the table itself was now full of plates of all kinds of sweets that Shuichi had never seen before. At the center of it all, a carefully balanced tower of beautiful glass vials, adorned with flowers or stars or wings.

Finally, at the head of the table, swimming in his chair, sat a boy who watched him predatorily. Shuichi recognized his teeth first, bared in a childish smile. His face was framed by swirls of red paint, but the rest of his attire was perfectly pure white.

"Phantom Thief," Shuichi greeted.

"So you already know who I am," the Phantom Thief drawled his words, pleased with this outcome. "I'm so glad you went through the trouble of finding me!"

Guessing it was alright to do so, Shuichi sat on the opposite side of the table. The glass tower in the middle obstructed their vision, and they both inclined their heads at the same time to look at each other.

"Of course I did, you have something of mine," Shuichi said, straight to the point.

The Phantom Thief pouted. "We could've made a game out of it, you didn't need to say that right away." He heaved a forlorn sigh. "The rudeness of it all."

"Game?"

"Of course, I love games. Don't you?"

"Occasionally."

The Phantom Thief nodded twice, then dipped his finger into the nearest platter of food. He stuck his finger into his mouth, and promptly spat out whatever it was he just ate.

"Let's talk business, then," the Phantom announced magnanimously. "You're here for what I've stolen from you, is that right?"

"Yes."

"And what are you willing to do to have it back?"

Shuichi blinked. "I don't have to do anything since it's rightfully mine."

There was a stunned silence, followed by loud laughter. The Phantom Thief clutched his sides and his head dipped out of sight for several moments, but Shuichi could imagine the amused expression that was currently on his face.

"That's not how it works here, sorry." He didn't sound apologetic at all. "You have to try harder than that if you want your flask back."

Immediately, Shuichi's eyes were drawn to the glass standing between them. The Phantom Thief applauded him.

"That's right, that's where it is!"

The Phantom Thief stood up and turned to face his chair, then he put one foot up on it, followed by the other. He climbed onto the cushion, then the table with the nimble movements Shuichi just vaguely remembered from their first encounter.

"You see, this wasn't my first heist," the Phantom spoke while he kicked food, delicate china and expensive cutlery aside with the tip of his shoes. He walked to the middle of the table until he could reach for the vials shining in the candlelight. "Yours wasn't all that difficult to catch, either. But it's very special to me, so I can't give it back so easily."

The vial at the very top, placed in the spot of honor, was removed from the overall tower by the Phantom's hands, then held to his chest as if cradling a child.

"So, what is your proposition?"

Shuichi frowned as he watched the navy blue liquid inside slosh. He wondered what would happen if it fell, then broke. Shuichi clutched his hands to his knees.

"What could you possibly see in my sadness?" Shuichi inquired, and if he sounded miffed, well. He was. "Wouldn't it be more rewarding to steal someone's happiness?"

The Phantom contorted his face into a grimace. It made the paint on his cheek distort disturbingly.

"For the record, we don't steal anyone's happiness. That's against the rules." He tilted his head. "Right?"

The question wasn't directed at him. He saw nine heads, nine people all dressed similar to the Phantom Thief, nod in agreement then disappear before Shuichi could process that he wasn't hallucinating. He shuddered as he realized he was being watched by whoever those people were.

"I suppose that's fair," Shuichi conceded. He added, mildly, "But that doesn't explain why you did it, and why you won't return it to me."

The Phantom Thief rolled the flask in his hands and spun a circle himself as he went over the question.

"You wouldn't remember anyway," the Phantom decided.

"Enlighten me."

The Phantom was slightly taken aback by the response, a small stumble to his steps a proof of it.

"...Huh." The Phantom thought and thought, and finally said, "You felt sadness for me."

Shuichi furrowed his head. He was sure he wouldn't have forgotten about an encounter like that.

"When?"

"In a dream."

The Phantom decided to continue his track, this time towards Shuichi. There was more clatter as everything in his path was damaged beyond use. He came to stand above Shuichi, chin tilted up as he looked down on Shuichi.

"Or maybe I'm lying,?" The Phantom Thief challenged. "You'll have to find out yourself, all you have to do is remember. Now, I'll be taking this--"

Shuichi grabbed his ankle before the Phantom could turn on his heels. The Phantom tested the strength of his grip, but didn't try to break free.

"What do you want?" Shuichi asked.

"Oh?"

"We could strike a bargain."

The Phantom smiled in clear self-satisfaction, and from this angle it looked especially cat-like.

"Aren't you the courageous type," the Phantom complimented.

"It can't be anything too bad," Shuichi defied, but the words weren't convincing even to himself.

"You're so lucky I have just the thing in mind today, and it should cause you little to no pain, as long as you don't struggle too much." The Phantom Thief bent down, and suddenly he was crouching and leaning close to Shuichi. "How about it?"

"I'd like to hear what it is, first."

The Phantom Thief giggled. "Alright." He tilted the vial this and that way, showing it up to Shuichi. He inched himself a tad bit closer. "I'll give you your precious emotions, the one I've been treasuring… I'll give it to you, as long as you kiss me in return."

Shuichi couldn't help but gape. He was back to clutching his knees, for an entirely different reason.

"...Is that all?" Shuichi choked.

"You're blushing," The Phantom pointed out without mercy. He watched Shuichi as his face went through the full spectrum of the color red. "So, what will it be? Take it or leave it, I won't take any other bargains, and I won't wait forever. Tick tock, Shuichi."

Shuichi swallowed dryly, and, with his head blessedly blank, pushed himself up by the chair's armrest, and his head met the Phantom's halfway. Shuichi expected him to be cold, to be a corpse covered by a porcelain face, but the Phantom was warm and pliant above him. The Phantom's hands trembled and Shuichi had to grab for the vial before it fell. The sudden touch of skin on skin broke Shuichi's thread of reason, and his other hand found the Phantom's hair and stroked the back of his head.

The Phantom's lips tasted of nothing. Shuichi exhaled softly and found some echo of a distant memory, not his own. Shuichi pulled back, vial in hand.

"Was that enough?" Shuichi asked, voice hoarse.

The Phantom was unresponsive for a beat. Then, he leaped forward, kissed the corner of Shuichi's mouth and demanded, "Call me Kokichi."

"I can do that."

Without a moment's delay, Shuichi downed the contents of the glass vials. It went down like a block of ice. Shuichi watched Kokichi from the corner of his eyes, and the boy did the same.

"This won't be the last you'll see of me, you know," Kokichi commented.

"I'm not afraid."

Kokichi smiled, sharp teeth in his mouth and glitter at the corner of his eyes, with a mess of a hair that framed his innocent looking face.

"Good, I won't stop until I have your heart."

Shuichi chose not to reply. As he left Kokichi standing alone atop the table, too small among the too big furniture, Shuichi could finally feel the stab of sadness that came from the sight.

#kokichi ouma #shuichi saihara #saiouma #oumasai #danganronpa #ndrv3 #my writing

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colehasapen · 5 years ago

Text

(ONE SHOT) mirjahaal STAR WARS

The glass sand stretches endlessly before him, and Obi-Wan continues to stumble on ward, something deep inside his chest urging him to keep moving.

The mission to Mandalore had been a disaster from the beginning. He had felt at home as soon as he had seen the planet approaching in the spaceport, something in his soul singing as a tension he never knew he had lessened, but as soon as his feet had touched the ground, the fifteen year old had very nearly collapsed in agony. The planet was screaming, wailing in pain around him; sounds that no one else could hear. Anger and fear not his own had nearly overwhelmed him, a deep-rooted anguish had settled deep in his bones and hadn’t left him since.

He had continued on with the mission as expected of him. He had pushed beyond those emotions to focus on the Living Force as Master Qui-Gon had expected of him, and he’d tried to release his steadily boiling grief, and annoyance with the Duchess into the Force. It hasn’t completely worked, and the longer he traveled Mandalore with Satine Kryze, the more enraged he grew.

Manda’yaim was suffering, and Satine looked to destroy everything that remained. She wanted to ruin everything about Manda’s children, the good and the bad. She wanted to steal the very soul of Ka’ra and burn it until nothing remained so that she could build something poisoned in its place. She wasn’t the voice of healing and peace that she liked to claim she was - everything she wanted to do would bring needless destruction and death, all so she could build something ‘new’ in her own image.

Master Qui-Gon had bought into all of Satine’s propaganda, and wanted to help her kill the Beskaryc Kar'ta of Manda and Ka’ras’ children. It had led to tension and anger in the months they traveled together, and Obi-Wan suspects these arguments were the reason why his Master had chosen Obi-Wan to cover the retreat with the Duchess when Death Watch had tracked them down. Obi-Wan had managed to defeat the group of ramikade sent to kill the young Duchess, but Master Qui-Gon and Satine were long gone, and Obi-Wan couldn’t reach them over their comms.

They had left him - his Master had left him - and Kyr’tsad were still coming.

Injured, Obi-Wan had had to move. He had forced himself to run, despite the agony radiating from the injury in his gut, and led his pursuers into the desert. Obi-Wan had let his feet carry him onward into the white sands, towards something that called out to the deepest parts of his soul, and he had kept running even after he had lost the Kyr’tsad ramikade after him.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, but something calls to him beyond the dunes. Every step he takes, he sees double - glass deserts are replaced by a lush jungle with a thick green canopy and singing birds. He’s surrounded by flowers of all colours, and he can hear a river that doesn’t exist running alongside the invisible path he follows, and an overwhelming sensation of peace comes over him. He passes a dune that a part of him tells his mind a crystal lake should be - he could once see the blue and pink jewels through the clear water. He used to sit there with his riduur, and they’d share the day’s offerings between them as they spoke about their siblings and children and acolytes. He used to run his hands through his riduur’s long curls there, confident that they’d find each other in every life. They’d make love in the crystal caves behind the waterfall, praying to their Mother and Father that the seeds would take and their family would grow once more. He feels warm hands that could easily be used to destroy but are gentle when they touch him, he sees molten gold eyes and a crooked smile, and he hears loving words murmured in his ear. They’re opposites in every way, but they were made for each other.

Obi-Wan doesn’t understand these visions he’s seeing, but they’re lovely enough that he wishes he could. He wants to live those visions he sees, but the jungle is gone, and the crystals destroyed. Everything that had once been here had been reduced to nothing during the haar Dral’Han. Half the planet had been boiled by the bombings. The population had been drowned and encased in molten beskar when the god-blessed ore had been melted and forced to the surface by the scorching heat.

Whatever had been here is long gone, buried under his feet. There had been a village here, once, one filled with a loving population who would follow the very trail Obi-Wan follows now, to pray at the Temple. Who’s Temple? He feels like he should know, but those memories have been encased in a thick wall of beskar and every time he tries to push past it agony radiates from the wound in his stomach, and the bleeding starts anew, staining the white sands he walks across red.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been traveling the desert, but he’s exhausted and aching, his vision growing gray at the edges. Still he walks though; he pushes past the pain to follow the voices in his head, calling him forwards.

And then he sees it. There’s a gleaming Temple in the sands - it had blinked into existence in the few moments Obi-Wan hadn’t been paying attention. It’s familiar, and it feels like home . It shouldn’t exist, he knows this, it had fallen during haar Dral’Haan - Obi-Wan had memories of scared worshipers hiding in the walls, of the defenses woven into the structure by his Mother and Father failing as fire and molten metal swallows the land that was supposed to be under his protection. Weakened by the magicks of the Sith and the Jedi, he hadn't been able to save them as they were overcome.

He steps through the wide entrance, entranced by the great Temple and his feet carrying him deeper. He walks past thousands of carvings telling the stories of the gods and their children, and the great battles of Manda’yaim. He remembers each battle, remembers walking across the planet afterwards, healing the wounds upon its surface and its people. He remembers laying in his riduur’s massive bed in his Temple outside of Keldabe as his ka’runi rests after each conflict, tracing each scar the battles and wars left on his skin. Collecting the dead souls to deliver to their Mother and Father was a tiring job, but his ka’runi did it with such care. He cradled each dead soul with the same gentleness Obi-Wan would a newborn, and he’d punish those who committed heinous acts. Obi-Wan had loved him as fiercely as he and loved him, as much as he loved every child he carried, no matter the life.

He doesn’t know where these memories come from, but they feel right. They’re his, just as much as his riduur was, and just as much as their children were.

He lets his feet lead him, thoughts fuzzy, to the great altar set in the center of his Temple. He barely feels the blood dripping from his body, splattering glittering gold across the spotless floor as he makes his way towards it. He feels right as he sits down on the warm beskar and wood, his blood singing in his veins and welcoming him home. Around him, the crystals lining the domed ceiling light up like millions of blue stars, catching on the colourful glass of the windows and casting puzzles of colour across the beautiful chamber as it hums with life .

He’s home.

With a sigh, Obi-Wan lays down on the altar, feeling life spread across what had once been the desert around his Temple. He feels it as Manda’yaim begins to heal. Water is bubbling up past the sands, plant life is beginning to take once more, and he can sense his jai'galaare stirring. He lays down, feeling his memories come back to him like a gentle stream that soothes the jagged part of his soul that he didn’t know existed, calling for its other half.

He’s Obi-Wan Kenobi, but he’s also something more. He’s Mirja’Naak as well. He is the second oldest child of Manda and Ka’ra. He is Life, he is Peace, and he is the time of healing that follows every great battle.

(Across the stars, weighed down by chains and agony and loss, Jango Fett opens his eyes, his soul whole once more, and Tal’Kyrbash smiles as he reaches back to his love. He is of Death. He is of Bloody Battles. He is his Father's guide and executioner. He is the lover of Life, and his other half calls him home.)

#cole writes #fanfiction #star wars #whumptober 2020 #no.15 into the unknown #obi wan kenobi #jango fett #Jangobi #Gods AU

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is-it-art-tho · 5 years ago

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Summary: After a truly crappy week, Bats and Jim decide they could both use a breather.

Jim Gordon sighed as he leaned back heavily against the brick wall, slick with freezing rain that had just begun to fall. He popped his collar as a bitter wind sliced through his duster to cut straight to the bone. His old joints ached in protest against the cold and he hissed a cursed, rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

It had been an exceptionally rough week, the kind that made him long for the early days, back when the worst things he had to worry about were petty drug dealers and domestic assault cases. Back then, most officers didn’t even wear Kevlar half the time. They walked the streets armed with a badge and a rarely used gun and felt invincible, wholly confident in their ability to stand between the public and those who meant to do harm. Back then, the uniform and the badge had been enough – more than enough to discourage most crime, and where the uniform and badge failed, it didn’t take much more to straighten things out.

But now as he watched as a dozen officers struggled to drag Killer Croc’s unconscious body out of the harbor, he couldn’t help but scoff at the hellish circus the city had become. Now most officers didn’t wear Kevlar, not out of a sense of safety, but rather a sense of futility. Standing against Croc or Bane or even Freeze, Kevlar would only slow the inevitable.

Some time not too long ago, a new darkness had spilled over the city like rain, and a wicked breed of evil had crept up from the sewers in its wake, ushering a new, horrible era that even now he couldn’t begin to explain, let alone accept. It was the stuff of nightmares; the sort of horrors that now plagued the city on a near constant basis used to be considered “once in a lifetime.”

But this week - this godforsaken week - had been one for the books, even in Gotham.

Jim’s phone chimed and he spared a glance from the scene in front of him to peek at the notification. It was a confirmation message letting him know that Harley and the Penguin had been safely returned to Arkham. Croc was basically as good as done at this point, which left only Ivy to worry about. Last he’d heard, his guys had her cornered in a plant nursery at the natural sciences museum. It was by no means an ideal location for a standoff with her, but Batman was there too, which just about evened the odds as much as anything anyone could hope for. It was the only reason he wasn’t on his way there now. That, and the fact that he was fairly certain that even if he left now and blew through every stop on the way there, he’d get there long after the fight was over, for better or worse. Fights with Ivy were fierce, but rarely very long.

Jim sighed again and tapped a cigarette free from the pack. The gentle thump and scuff of boots on damp pavement behind him only proved his point, and he said without turning around, “Ivy?”

“Neutralized.” Batman stepped forward so that they were side by side, coughing slightly, his eyes on Croc.

The officers had been trying to work by sheer manpower alone for nearly twenty minutes before Bullock, sweating an irritated, finally shouted, “For the love of– just rig ‘im up to one of the trucks already!” Now a few chains were looped onto Croc’s pants, the other ends hooked onto the back of a fire engine, and they were slowly backing him out of the water.

Jim noticed Batman’s arm wrapped around his torso, clutching his side. He assumed the gesture was meant to be inconspicuous, hidden almost entirely under the thick cape, and knowing Batman, it could mean anything from a simple bruise to a punctured lung. Or worse.

Without another word, he shook free a second cigarette and held it out.

“I don’t smoke,” Batman said.

“Humor me.”

To Jim’s mild surprise, and perhaps underscoring his belief that this had in fact been a spectacularly awful week, Batman took the cigarette and held it while Jim lit both of them.

It didn’t escape the older man’s notice that the black gloved hand trembled slightly, and Jim knew enough about the insulation of the suit, having seen Batman stand comfortably in significantly harsher conditions, to know that it wasn’t from the cold.

Batman took a slow drag, the butt flaring then fading again in the darkness, and exhaled a cloud of smoke and condensation into the frosty air.

They stood like that for a while, wrapped in silence as they watched the officers work. Well, to be fair Jim was only half-watching the officers, one eye glued to Batman. He smelled faintly botanical, sweet like nectar but also bitter and sharp like vinegar and acid. Small patches of his cape were missing, ragged holes that looked reminiscent of burn marks, and a light dusting of gold covered most of his body. Pollen, Jim assumed.

So, she’d put up a hell of a fight then.

“You’re staring, Jim.”

The older man jumped like a child caught stealing a cookie and redirected his gaze to the scene. “Christ,” he muttered, rubbing his neck somewhat sheepishly. “Here I thought I was being slick.”

Batman dropped the cigarette and snuffed it into the wet pavement. “Was there anything else?”

“No, thank God. I think that’s everything.”

“Then you should get home. Get some rest,” Batman said, turning to leave.

It was one of the few times Jim had had the chance to actually watch Batman leave rather than be left talking to the open air. He watched the man reach for a grapple beneath his cape and felt something drop into the pit of his stomach as he thought about the ride home.

No, he couldn’t go home. It was something Jim had learned soon after he’d gotten married, back when he was still new to the job. He couldn’t go straight home after a rough night. No matter how much he might want to, he knew he needed to get his head on straight before he walked through the door. Make sure he was ready to interact, to be a father and a husband, to be with his family. Otherwise, the events of the night clung to him like smoke, wafting with him from room to room and turning him into something dour and unapproachable. It wasn’t fair to his family or anyone around him, and he’d learned that the hard way, but he’d learned it all the same.

But this was one of those unique nights where the thought of being alone was almost worse. The way his mind was racing, had been racing for the past few days, the last thing he wanted was to be left to his own devices. To think about all the ways he’d screwed up, all the people who had been endangered or worse because of a clue he’d missed, a decision he’d made too slowly or blown all together. He would sit and he would think and he would descend into self-flagellation until he was just about ready to hand in his letter of resignation and fling himself into the harbor. It was a well-trodden path at this point, and one he didn’t want to revisit.

So, in a last-ditch attempt to salvage what was left of the night, Jim found himself asking, “Where are you headed?”

Batman paused and tossed a curious look over his shoulder. It was hard to tell through the mask, but Jim got the feeling he had an eyebrow raised.

“Is something wrong,” Batman asked.

“No, no, I was just…” Jim took a breath and jammed his half-frozen hands into his pockets, feeling impossibly foolish. What was he doing? “It’s been a rough week,” he continued. “And I was just…” His sentence trailed off with another deep sigh. “Eh, never mind. It was nothing.”

Batman kept his eyes on him, appraising him the way Jim had seen him study countless crime scenes. It made him feel strangely vulnerable, almost nude.

“Are you hungry?” Batman asked suddenly.

And even though he was one of the most infuriatingly inscrutable men in the world, Jim knew him well enough by now to recognize this for what it was. A small lifeline.

“Starving,” Jim grinned, dropping his cigarette to crush it underfoot. “There’s a little hole in the wall on 4th.”

“McLaren’s?”

“That’s the one.” Jim was beyond amused by the idea that Batman might be familiar with the little mom & pop health code violation they called a diner. He imagined him strolling in for a milkshake at 2 in the morning, cowl and all, and having an autographed portrait added to the wall of celebrity customers.

Jim glanced back at the scene. They’d finally hauled Croc into one of the armored vans and were just beginning to clear out.

“We’re just about done here,” he said. “Give me about 10 minutes and I should– Goddammit.” He was talking to himself again. Perhaps the first time had been a fluke.

About thirty minutes later, Jim was pulling up in front of the little diner, the windows papered with sun damaged menu items and flashing neon lights, and the only place still open at this ungodly hour. A bell chimed as he stepped in, immediately blinded by the contrast from wintry night to bright fluorescent interior.

“Gordy!” the round man at the grill shouted by way of greeting.

“Pauly.” Jim was too tired to return the same vigor, but he offered a smile, tugging off his coat that was now heavy with rain and stiff with cold.

Without another word between them, Pauly threw a few extra ingredients on the flat-top grill to start preparing Jim’s usual.

In the back, a dark figure was hunched in the corner booth by a window, completely incongruous with the otherwise ordinary setting, like a Tesla in a Norman Rockwell painting.

He caught Pauly’s eye then, and Pauly shot him wary half-raise of an eyebrow as if to say, What the hell you got going on here? and Am I gonna have to update my insurance policy on this place? and Do you think he’ll sign a photo?

Jim just shrugged in a way he hoped was reassuring then made his way back to the booth and slipped in. Batman was leaning over a half-drained mug of coffee, his head in his hand, and though Jim couldn’t see his eyes through the white lenses in the mask, he could’ve sworn the other man was dozing off.

“Surprised you’re sitting with your back to the door,” Jim noted. “Thought you were too paranoid for that sort of thing.”

Batman simply gestured toward the chrome napkin holder, angled in such a way that he had a clear view of the entire restaurant behind him. Of course.

Jim chuckled and shook his head as Pauly came over with a glass of Coke. He held up a coffee pot, offering to refill Batman’s cup, but Batman held up a tired hand and Pauly returned to the kitchen.

“So,” Jim began, tapping his straw against the table to open it, “made it through another one.”

“Hn.” Batman rubbed his face in an exhausted and somewhat startlingly human gesture and coughed, groaning a little.

Jim was fairly certain he’d never seen Batman so openly… human before. Even after some of their worst scrapes when Batman was practically bleeding out or loaded with some sort of toxin, he had always stood tall, stoic, betraying not even a hint of weakness. After a while, it had only added to the legend of it all.

Batman: the man who did not sleep, who bled but did not feel pain.

He’d taken on a mythos, became something larger than himself. Jim had watched the transformation with his own two eyes, had seen the way the conversation shifted around him in the precinct and on the streets. In the months after Batman’s first appearance, he went from being the crazy man in a costume to the lurking force that hung over the city the same way clouds always seemed to – at once haunting and familiar.

He’d known all along that the stories of his exploits were overblown, but he’d let them grow anyway because he also knew how necessary it was that the city believed them, that they saw Batman as this otherworldly entity. It was the only way for any of it to work. Batman’s very name, the signal in the sky, they had to be backed by an unshakeable belief that he was something more than a man.

Because it wasn’t enough to be a good man. Not here; not anymore. Good men didn’t scare criminals, not the kind that stalked the streets of Gotham. And good men didn’t last long in these parts, besides. Harvey Dent’s presence in Arkham was a painful, permanent reminder of that fact. And it was Harvey Dent, along with other fallen or corrupted good men, who solidified the cynicism that clung to the hearts of most Gothamites like a parasite and made it nearly impossible for them to take any solace in the efforts or words of simple good men.

In a battle against devils, men simply did not do.

No, they needed something more, something greater. They needed a legend, a story whispered over barrel fires and on street corners, an ever-present threat to those who prowled the shadows and a hope for those searching for the light.

They needed Batman.

And Jim was mature enough to admit that he needed it, too. He clung to the stories, craved them the same way a child might cling to Santa Clause – a desperate last attempt at hope in this city that seemed to try its damnedest to crush it.

But now, sitting across from Batman and getting a chance to really look at him up close in something other than the dim lit of a rooftop or back alley, and seeing the drawn lines in his face and the weary drag in his voice, Jim couldn’t help but kick himself for being so foolish, so selfish. It was one thing for the city to believe the stories, but he didn’t have that luxury. He couldn’t. Because at the end of the day there needed to be at least one person out there who saw Batman for who he really was: just a good man trying to save the city from itself.

Someone had to see that – had to know that.

Otherwise, who would save the Batman from the city?

And when Batman coughed again and stretched his neck painfully from side to side, wincing as he did, Jim kicked himself again. He’d noticed from the first moment that Batman seemed worse for wear, yet never once had he suggested any medical intervention, however futile the offer might be. And he vowed in that moment to do better at remembering that this man before him was just that.

A man.

“You all right?” Jim asked in a belated attempt to do what he should’ve done almost an hour ago. And many times, before that. “If you want, I can get one of the guys to give you a once over.”

“I’m fine,” Batman said, his eyes scrunched.

Sitting here, Batman’s chest and arms were visible beneath the cape, and Jim could get a better read on the extent of the damage. The burns he’d noticed in the cape itself were also on his torso, leaving holes in the fabric that revealed the tough, lightweight armor beneath, and Jim recognized the telltale slashes across his chest and biceps left by Ivy’s thorny vines, some of them slicing clean through to the skin. There was a particularly deep gash across Batman’s left side, and when he noticed Jim staring, he let the cape fall a bit more to cover himself.

“Really,” he added with a slight edge in his voice.

Jim put up his hands in surrender. “Hey, listen. I’m not your mother. If you say you’re fine,” he shrugged, taking a swig from his Coke, and he could’ve sworn he saw some tension seep out of Batman’s shoulders, as if he’d been bracing himself for a battle on this issue.

Jim was a caring man, and he could worry and nag with the best of them, but he was also an old man, and tired. And the last thing he intended to do tonight on top of everything else was argue with another grown man about a damn checkup.

“What do you usually do after nights like this?” he asked, pivoting easily. “I’m assuming by the nervous sweats on Pauly’s collar that you’re not exactly a regular here.”

“No,” Batman granted. “Usually, I go for a drive.”

“Huh. I would’ve thought you’d just go right home. Crawl into bed and pass out.”

“Sometimes, but not always. Nights like this… I need to be alone for a while. Clear my head, wait for the adrenaline to wear off.”

It hadn’t occurred to Jim that the Batman might live with other people. He wondered what that looked like. A wife? A family? He found himself imagining the Christmas card – a smiling family in matching sweaters and then… Batman. His lips curled into a smile around the straw in his mouth.

But he also understood the sentiment exactly, and he nodded, saying, “I hear ya,” while suppressing the million questions burning at the back of his throat about Batman’s home life. Not the time, not the place, and not his business.

“Do you want to, uh… Do you want to talk about it?” he asked after a brief pause. “What happened, I mean?” Jim’s eyes flicked back and forth between his Coke and Batman’s face, suddenly feeling wildly out of his depth. He figured it was a necessary question to ask, especially given everything that had happened, but he felt impossibly unqualified to have the conversation with this man in particular.

“No,” Batman said after another moment, staring out the window at the sparse, pre-dawn traffic. If Jim were anybody else or any younger, he might have flushed with embarrassment.

Because of course Batman didn’t want to talk about it with him. What could he possibly offer by way of advice or comfort to the man who had saved the entire city – hell, the world – on multiple occasions; who had fought battles in different solar systems and gone toe to toe with aliens and demigods? Comparatively, Jim was a nobody, practically irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

Self-pity wasn’t a familiar sensation for him, and he shifted uncomfortably in the overstuffed seat, cringing as the plastic covering whined beneath him.

“Not about tonight,” Batman continued.

Jim blinked, confused, and Batman went on a little hesitantly. “Let’s just… talk.”

“Oh.” The response felt incredibly lame coming out of his mouth and seemed to plop onto the table between them, but he was so caught off guard that he didn’t know what else to say.

It looked almost like Batman was suddenly unsure, because he immediately straightened in his seat, and his expression became more guarded, that familiar stoicism returning to his mouth and all of the apparent exhaustion evaporating in an instant.

“You’re right,” he said quickly, even though Jim hadn’t said anything. “It’s unnecessary. And you’re probably tired. You should go.”

Batman had just begun to slide out of the booth – wincing in pain as he went – when Jim reached out a hand.

“Hey, hey, wait a second. At this point I won’t be getting to sleep anytime soon, and I’ll bet the same goes for you. Now, I plan to sit here, eat my roast beef sandwich and maybe get an extra order of fries. I can’t force you, but if you wanna sit here with me and talk about something other than criminally insane meta humans and murder and armed robberies, I’d like that quite a bit.”

Batman held his gaze for a moment, still halfway between sitting and standing as Pauly returned and set two plates down on the table. A hefty roast beef sandwich pierced with a toothpick and topped with a pickle for Jim and a Philly cheesesteak for Batman. Jim couldn’t tell if it was his little speech or the food that pushed him over the edge, but Batman settled back into the seat, a little stiff, but apparently ready to stay for at least as long as it took to finish the sandwich.

Jim grinned as he watched him drag over a ketchup and squirt it into the center of the sandwich. The whole image was just so surreal he wouldn’t have been surprised if his alarm went off in a minute and he woke up only to realize the whole thing had been a dream.

“So then,” Jim said around a mouthful of bread and meat, “seen any good movies lately?”

#batman whump #mild hurt/comfort #batman #jim gordon #batman fic #batman fanfic #batman fanfiction #batman and jim gordon #whump

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hopeandharmonizing · 5 years ago

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Nightlife

@infortunii ** accepted the invitation!

Strong fingers clutch the fabric of Qrow’s shirt with intention. Shattered Moon Lounge patrons crowd the door; they fill the Mantle sidewalk dressed in their finest glam - sequins, metallic polyester, and rhinestones reflect neon lights, hoping to make a good enough impression on the bouncer while they flash some cash.

Briar’s firm grasp stops him from entering the path of theater ropes to take a spot at the back, redirects to join her in walking around. Past. She leans in close to his ear as they keep walking, if only for smug tones to carry over garbled lyrics blaring beyond cracks in doors, and beating bass bumping straight through brick walls, “Oh come on now, we’re not the type to fall in line.”

Invitation intends not to force burdens onto company, but to share the perks of local celebrity status.

Cleaned up, stripped down to something skimpy more comfortable to dance in, and having traded messy glitter bombing for a more intentional smear of shining skin confetti, Briar tosses a sparkling smile of familiarity to the doorman who rewards her with a wink and waves the pair into a second door aside from the main entrance.

VIP lounge.

The center of the room boasts an illuminated open bar, surrounded by a dance floor, circled by plush couches in squares around lighted tables with ice buckets built in. More manned bar counters fill into crannies along the walls. Chandeliers and rainbow lights hang from and line the ceiling, casting a rainbow blacklight glow on every surface. The air hangs ripe with the scent of too many bad habits, but not nearly as much sweat as the main hall, even with more than enough bodies around to let Briar be herself.

“Neither of us needs to buy drinks tonight.” Gold eyes alight, Briar grins at Qrow, “They cover us for being here to boost their rep. I’ll just need to spend some time on the main floor, too; prefer a taste of both sides, anyway. ...Oh, and most people here are cool! Not like Atlas entitled elite. Other artists and huntsfolk who’ve gained favor with the public, rally speakers, politicians on the fighting side for the city - that kinda thing. So don’t spend the whole time moping in the corner seat, okay~?”

#( a beautiful disaster || infortunii )#( i don't need no dog tag / my name is on my back || ic )#i wanted to make this like two paragraphs #but then i found a picture to base it off of and got carried away orz #so feel free to shorten from here now that i got some environmental context out of the way #or add some of your own idc!!!!

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thepilgrimofwar · 5 years ago

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Finale 1 - Edited Roll20 Log

Outside the walls of Arenias’ fortress was a celebration. Banners of all colours fluttered in the wind as Beathyn’s cannons continued their relentless shelling. All of the Emberglades were represented. Wintergale volunteers and Men of the Blackbanner led by Zarannis. Militia from the Heartlands and Shalemarch under Judereth. Even Westheath prisoners-turned-soldiers, promised amnesty, aiming to fight twice as hard to prove their loyalty to Relriah who had stepped forward to lead them. They knew of her, most of them growing up in Westheath together.

It wasn’t difficult to convince them to follow The Daughter of Illithia who was Arenias’ last remaining heir. After being explained the state of things by Relriah, they were more than happy to fight for someone who was just as ruthless- but not at their expense. They promised to deliver her father’s head as a coronation present for the true ruler of Westheath.

But despite the celebratory mood, there was still a dread that hung low in the air. Victory was close at hand, but it made the idea of dying -now- so much worse. A pointless last stand by Arenias. The last gesture by a Lordling that was already dead. The same outcome would be reached if he just surrendered- only with less bloodshed on both sides. But Stenden had been clear.

A prolonged siege to starve them out and forcing a surrender was not an acceptable option. They needed to snuff Lord Illithia and his loyalists out once and for all. The war had gone on long enough, and with the help of the heroes who had come to aid him, they were going to end this- Here. Now.

[Event Start]

Thanidiel Highdawn:"How much does the Lordling wish for us to keep intact?"

Esheyn:"An important thing to consider.”

Ethalarian:"I would imagine as much as possible, Highdawn."

Thanidiel:"I'm just saying. There's a lot of tinder here and nothing runs the untrained out of a fortress faster..."

Ethalarian:"I don't think they've much interest in ruling a load of torched tinder, either."

Lirelle:"I believe all of their militia have deserted them. Only those fanatically loyal are left."

Thanidiel:"I'll show them fanatical loyalty underneath my mare's hooves."

Lirelle looks up to the defenders on the walls. "I'm sure some of them are already regretting it."

Ethalarian frowns. Destroying his fellow countrymen to the man doesn't appear to sit well with him.

Thanidiel:"Highdawn will run down the riflemen ahead. Will your horsemen be handling the infantry?"

Ethalarian:"You can leave it to me."

Isilos pointed at the guards infront of Thanideil's troops. "Soften them up so the others can pass through."

Thanidiel:"Mm, fuck that. Redirecting - this city is so piss-narrow. I may split the heavy cavalry for now."

[Combat Starts.]

After the strategy concludes, the siege begins in earnest under the blasts of Beathyn’s cannon fire. The fighting is intense as the Coalition engages Arenias’ loyalists street by street, and block by block. Smashing through barricades and navigating roadblocks, the battle soon becomes a slaughter for the hopeless defenders. Nevertheless the fanatical opposing force put up a fierce defence.

The casualness with which the Crows move is at odds with the militia scattered around them. A flick of Lirelle's hand is enough to propel them forwards, horses trotting forward as their riders let loose. Their mage followed cautiously behind, her magic sending chunks of masonry flying from beneath the feet of the defenders. Lirelle herself hung back for now, save for a single bolt of black that washed over the crossbowmen, leaving nothing but corpses in its wake.

Ethalarian secures his helmet in place and spurs his charger forward without a word. As he races through the streets, he gives his orders with hand signals, dirt and loose stone flying through the air at the thunderous passing of his cavalry.

Esheyn and her troops take to the walls, climbing up the ladders quickly to dispatch their foes.

Vaelrin was here. And was here the entire time for whatever happened over the last few weeks at this particular location at this particular time when things were surely at a particularly violent era. Nevertheless, Vaelrin's best interest was to pursue and protect those who were with him in battle and with a bellowing call, he and bowmen took aim to the Arbalesters on the top of the wall.

[Meanwhile at the inner walls of the north]

Vissehn 's troops had been on the move long before the main army and they had carved their corner-- one man at a time, one night at a time. It took time to break a perimeter; more time to dig in. Lots of cardgames played silently-- lots of sleepless nights. Now, however, it paid off; their commander's eccentric strategy bringing them to the back of the field, where defenses pointed quite the other way. Springing up, they levelled their rifles at the bombardment canon, trying to make quick work of things on their side of the battle. All the while, their young and reckless commander sang a jaunty tune.

Vissehn Sings

"Lay them out, oh bullet born Reap all they have sown Arenias of the blatant scorn will find his castle blown!"

And so they let loose, all of their shots, in a blaze of gunsmoke and shells.

Vissehn takes a moment to fire into the air, letting enemy and ally alike know that a Hawk has entered the fray.

[Back to the Main Assault]

Isilos channeled healing light towards Esheyn while commanding his Magisters to puch back the entrentched. "Clear the path, we need to make it to the other side. I will focus on keeping our ranks alive."

Thanidiel yells to her compatriots. "Highdawn will be blocking the advance of the lancers."

Ethalarian:"Good luck."

Mara Blazingdawn:"Soldiers! Fan out! We will not be left out of this fight!"

A runner comes in from their eastern flank, calling for reinforcements. The siege had gone well on the Eastern Wall. -Too Well- so much so that the militia-men had over extended and were now cut off.

Ethalarian immediately wheels his cavalry around, waving for him to follow. "My cavalry will ride to relieve the militia! We'll get there fastest."

The battle continues as Ethalarian rides down the streets leading eastwards and comes to the militia’s aide on the right flank.

Oosaarn and the arbalesters charged through the broken wall. Sprinting past broken buildings and rubble until they were well within the city. He orders his troops to attack the infantry on his left while both arbalesters attacks those straight ahead.

Esheyn continues their assault atop the wall, but she instructs her troops to descend and move to join the others.

Vaelrin bellows forth a command ordering his troop to follow him as he charges off on his steed towards the middle of the wall where the hole allowed entryway. With most of the ranged disposed of, his focus now turned towards something else. Without so much as a flinch, Vaelrin's presence was now alongside Lirelle as a command ushered forth a wave of arrows towards the nearest enemy.

Mara Blazingdawn raises her sword to order her forces forward. "Advance through the breech! We need to get into position to engage their infantry! Double time!"

Rallying her troops to her Mara Blazingdawn bellows at the top of her lungs as they enter the fray. "Drive these cavalry back! We need to clear the way!"

[Meanwhile, on the right flank]

Ethalarian 's cavalry arrives at the flank and he immediately begins to take stock of the situation. "Forward!" he bellows to his militiamen. "Buy the levies some breathing room!"

Ethalarian spurs his lancers forward, aiming to relieve the beleaguered levies. Light radiates from the lancers behind him and begins to knit closed their wounds. "You!" he shouts, directing his lance at some poor unfortunate soul. "What the hell happened here?"

The sargeant responds. They had broken through and made full use of it. Only to discover later that it was because they were let in -intentionally-. This whole eastern flank was a trap.

[Meanwhile, in the North, at the Inner Walls]

Vissehn shouts as the hit lands, but it doesn't seem to do enough. He looks to his militia men. "C'mon, bring 'em down!" They reload, and fire once more-- into the arablesters this time.

Vissehn:"Ilithia went to war

Far beyond their reach

Here we bay at their door

To hammer down a breach!"

Vissehn:"If we die we die glorious, lads! Let 'em remember we sang to our demise!"

[Back to the Main Assault]

Lirelle continues walking forward, the Crows behind her picking off targets as they went. As she passes Vaelrin again, she turns to look at him briefly. saying not a word as was promised. She stops behind Thanidiel's horsemen and the shadows curl around her, dissipating to reform in an instant to engulf the guards and rifles.

Thanidiel is unphased as the dark magicks swirl around them - those of the Emberheart militia reacting on the contrary until settled under the standard of Tyr's Hand again.

Isilos wiped the blood from his scythe and looked to the other streets. He didn't like being delayed when there was an objective.

Oosaarn and those arbalest mercenaries turned the nearest corner and ran headlong into the group of house guards down the ruined street. [All basic attack on House Guards]

Esheyn grits her teeth. She has a LOT of ground to cover if she has any hope of catching up with her comrades. But her troops are in a better position to assist, and so she calls to them, "TO ISILOS!" before jumping down to rush toward the fray.

Mara Blazingdawn finishes cleaning her blade from the recent skirmish. "Press forward! We have the advantage!" Ordering her knights to move into the ruins, the lesser guardsmen engage the House Guards while Mara's personal guard attack the Infantry further into the city.

[Meanwhile, on the right flank]

The trap continued to circle in on the remaining militia, also trapping Ethalarian.

Ethalarian squares his jaw as the severity of the situation begins to dawn on him. Cut off. Surrounded. "Hartwood! Duskarrow!" He shouts as loud as he can, hoping they can hear him over the din of the battle. "Fall back! Get the militia out of here, warn Highdawn and the others!" The broad-shouldered knight at the head of one of the militia formation falters. "But-" Ethalarian waves, cutting him off. "No argument, Sergeant! I'll delay them as long as I can!"

Takes one look at the situation, then back at the knight who had come to their rescue. "What about you?" He asks.

Ethalarian shakes his head. "You heard me. The last thing I need is a bunch of fucking farmers getting in my way."

Krissen Dawnhollow who had believed she had their lines of retreat cut off frowns. "Noble of you. But futile. Just like my Lord's stupid last stand. Are you here to make one of your own?"

Ethalarian wheels his cavalry about, facing now the one that had begun to approach him. "Nothing quite so elegant as that." He shrugs his shoulders. "Just no other options."

Krissen Dawnhollow shrugs. "Such is life, is it not?" She makes a wry laugh, for she knew that her fate would be similar. Shortly.

Ethalarian cracks a wry grin, leaning forward across the horn of his saddle. "Not that it's going to matter here in a few minutes," he says with a wry laugh, "but I don't suppose you have a name?"

Krissen Dawnhollow:"Krissen Dawnhollow," she says.

Krissen Dawnhollow raises her hand for her troops to attack. Whatever futile victory she had won on this side of the fortress was going to be pointless soon enough. As was the Knight's last stand. "Let's finish this."

Ethalarian discards his lance and draws Faithbreaker from its scabbard. The crimson blade flickers to life as it had so many times before and one of the knights behind him sounds a blast of his horn. "Let us indeed." Hooves drive into cobblestone with a thunderous sound as he spurs his charger into action, followed by what remains of his retinue.

[And on the Inner Walls North of the Main Assault]

Vissehn and his lads slipped off the battlements, and with a rush ran to the remaining bombardment canon. Vissehn waved them around, and his soldiers attempted to commandeer.

Vissehn cheers and his men, and the remains of his militia, aim for the final bombardment canon on the battlements.

“If we die now, we die with a canon!"

The boy holds tight to his canon, watching the arbalesters fell his men. Until there was none but himself.

Vissehn, alone as his luck seemed to fade, breaks out into song. "When can their glory fade? O the wild charge they made! All the world wondered."

Thanidiel hears his song. "Are you singing to -comfort- yourself!" bellows through the streets.

The Main Assault was now closing in on the Inner Walls but none were in range to support the Hawk

Esheyn and her troops break into a run toward those battling up ahead. [All Sprint]

“Center formation! Fall back and reform! Rear formation! Attack!” Mara Blazingdawn the Dawnspire Knights engage the Houseguard bringing steel and courage to purpose.

Just as the arbalesters fire at Vissehn, the forces from the Eastern Flank arrive to assist

Ethalarian 's cavalry appear from the right flank, tattered and flagging but unbroken. A tree of a man leads the front most unit of cavalry, recognizable to most as Knight-Sergeant Hartwood. "Run them down!" he cries. "We need to end this quickly for the Captain's sake!"

[The Battle Quickly concludes and all forces meet up]

"Commander Highdawn!"

Thanidiel looks at the rider from Ethalarian’s unit. "Dawnstalker does not ride with you. Report."

Hartwood shakes his head. "The right flank was a trap, sir. Last I saw of him he was completely enveloped by the enemy." The big man looks grim. "I saw his banner charge into their leader's formation but- We need to hurry."

Thanidiel does not shout nor rile at the news - accepting it quietly with the phoenix greathelm obscuring her thoughts and features. What there is - almost automatic on the heels of Hartwood's words, is the swishing motion of the Tyr's Hand standard and the beat of the armoured cavalry's hooves as they move shortly from a rippling trot to a full gallop through streets and along walls to the eastern flank.

What she finds when she arrives is a scene of calamity- not a single one of the Lancers that had left under Ethalarian's banner remained standing. She finds him at the center of the formation, badly bloodied but somehow still breathing. At least for the moment. His wounds are many and they are deep. His head turns, eyes unseeing, toward the sound of hoofbeats as Highdawn's formation approaches and he manages to barely lift a hand.

Thanidiel slows enough to swing off of the back of her pale mare, allowing the beast to come to its own stop as her armoured frame lands onto the cobblestone. The motleyed band of horsemen that had followed her all the way from the South, just as Ethalarian had, already bringing themselves to a pause aways from the scene. Sweetness does not soften this moment, for Highdawn is not sweet and has always been all of the weapon that Ethalarian had wished to dehumanise into. Her gauntletted hand lowers to his, enough to curl around, as she delivers the plainfaced observation. "You are dying. My Light would do nothing but spur you to the end before it could uplift you."

Thanidiel then seethes out, angry but restrained, "We should have gone together. Traded places."

Ethalarian sputters a half-choked laugh and gives a shake of his head, bloodied lips twisting into a crooked grin. "S'w-what I always liked about you, Th-Thanidiel. Always a...a laugh." He lifts his chin and tugs sharply, with what little strength he has left, and the buckles clasping his curiass in place give out. "Shut up," he hisses through clenched teeth as his numb fingers fumble for something. "I picked this."

Thanidiel:"The dying or whatever you're fumbling for in there? If you think I like you enough to go into my Great Uncle's lands and hand Nuellen your dogtags..." The ex-Knight picks up on his manner, letting everything else said pass by with flickers of her ears as she drops to her knees. Facilitating the ease of whatever was being given.

Ethalarian finally finds what he's looking for- something kept close to his heart- and weakly takes it into his grip. "Everything." The color begins to fade even more rapidly from his ruddy skin. Unable to lift his arm anymore, he rocks his shoulders in her direction and slaps whatever is in his hand- smeared with his blood- into her chest. "Keep...this...close." Ethalarian winces from the pain. "Foot...footlocker."

Thanidiel examines the bloodsmeared object, using the leather underside of her glove to wipe away and discover its details. The greathelm, as always, obscuring anything animate to her. But whatever it was, the stalks of her ears freeze and pull back - threatened, or alarmed, taken aback? Either way, it all braces and chills through the rest of her frame as she looms over the dying Knight. Hostility replacing affection even still as she grits out a simplistic, "Fuck you," as the ramifications process through her mind. "You're going to make me live for this?" She had wanted this all to be the end; a merit of good work to at least a few peoples before bringing over a century of nightmare to an end.

Thanidiel growls after - the sound reverberating through her chest, and throat, and the layers of padded cloth and metal encasing her. Even still, the deliberate motion is present in the other's dying vision; the press of Elleynah's World to her breastplate.

Ethalarian squeezes Thanidiel's hand weakly and seems to laugh- his body shakes, at least- and that wry smile returns to his face. He wants to say more- to give her a few final words- but he can't summon the energy. All he can do is nod weakly. She knows his meaning. She'll understand. Regardless of whatever difference they may have had, she would do what needed to be done. That was her way. And then, at long last, his grip goes slack in her hands and he stills completely.

[Event End]

#epilogue #roll20

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belles-pensee · 4 years ago

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방탄소년단 and how I learned to love them.

Before I became an Army, I was already aware of BTS and their fandom. I was at awe of how their fanbase is so dominating. I figured it is because of their performances, like any other Idol groups. A typical boyband. Don't get me wrong I always appreciated their choreography. They are so technical, clean and slick and they had my attention but did not dig into them more than that. I didn't get into learning the lyrics *even their translations*, I was just happy seeing them perform.

I was more into Kdrama back then so I introduced the culture of it to a friend. She got absorbed with the Korean hype and found a new kdrama fangirl. Our lunch breaks were over conversations of the latest episodes, the 'kiligs' and the amazing scenery Korea has to offer. Then she came to discover the KPop world.

I was so excited for her since V was close with one of my Oppa, Park Seo Joon. They were so close, together with other heartstopping actors. She started sharing about how their music speaks to her regardless if she doesn't understand the lyrics. I teased her sometimes *in a good way* for this since I get excited seeing her all hyped up and sharing stories about Suga and the latest RunBTS episodes.

I came across a couple of posts saying that BTS comes into your life when you need them the most and when you least expect it. I never understood this until I experienced it firsthand.

One night, I was watching a couple of choreographies as I wasn't in the mood to watch series or movies. And as you are aware of, when you watch a couple of videos with the same genre in YouTube, it will suggest those similar to it.

I was redirected to one of their songs Butterfly. For some reason, I started to tear up; not knowing the meaning of the lyrics. I then started looking through and came across We Are Bulletproof: the Eternal and finally the song that broke my heart but at the same time healed it for a moment, 00:00. I didn't even go through the lyrics translations yet but once I got through them, I just broke down. What made me feel warm all over was when I read through the lyrics.

I knew that moment, there's more to them than what perceive of them. They had heart, genuine love for their fans and the purest souls I have ever seen. Their humility despite their achievements is beyond words. They are determined to stay grounded and it shows. They know how to give back. They treasured people who supported and believed in them.

I am not writing this down for people asking an explanation of my love for them. It isn't to draw attention and gain fans for them because honestly they don't need it; they have this magnetic energy of positivity that people are just drawn to them. I just wanted to share my journey with Army whom I know have inspiring sentiments like mine.

I believe that the build up of the Army fandom is because of Bangtan's purpose, to heal, love, inspire and make everything better.

You are an Army because you are destined to be one, we may have different paths but our journey through life is with Bangtan. May we walk with them with the same reason they started their craft; to stop stereotypes, criticism and expectations, to protect the values and ideals of young people and to bring awareness to issues that people are afraid of shedding light to.

You are destined to be an Army and be part of Bangtan's journey to break through walls. I am beyond blessed and grateful to meet these 7 men in this lifetime.

방탄, 감사합니다! 보라 해 💜

#bts #bts army #bangtan #bts icons #bts journal

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fandomsnerd · 5 years ago

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Payment in Blood

(cross post with AO3)

He had fucked up.

This was his fault. Gods. He had fucked up and it would not be him who paid for it.

No, he would pay, he would pay dearly for it, just not with his own blood.

Jaskier was hurt. Jaskier was dying. And it was his fault. He hadn’t been watching, hadn’t seen, hadn’t thought to look.

It wasn’t his fault. Jaskier is his own man, he makes his own choices. He’s more than capable of defending himself, the number of bar fights Geralt had witnessed over the year’s testament enough to that.

But then who can be blamed for not being prepared to defend one’s self against a friend’s blade?

This was his fault. He hadn’t meant to. He truly hadn’t- he didn’t realise the bard was there, so close. Trying to help, the stupid fool. What could he have done, bludgeoned the guards to death with his damned lute? Probably, if he had gotten the chance, if Geralt hadn’t…

He didn’t know he was there, how was he supposed to? Supposed to track the bard and keep them alive all at once. He counted on Jaskier to stay back, out of the way, out of trouble. Staying on the edges, only battering those who strayed too far from the main event to become a concern to him. Normally the bard had at least enough self-preservation for that.

Maybe this time he had been trying to, trying to push his way out of the worst of it when Geralt had… stopped him.

He had seen him the moment it happened, yellow eyes locking with familiar blue. His grasp faltered, sword already moving down, momentum not giving him the space to stop it, managing little more than to jerk it aside. Redirect from its original trajectory.

That, at least he succeeded at. Veering down, missing the bard’s delicate neck to slice open Jaskier’s chest, ripping through doublet, undershirt, and flesh alike.

The scream cut into him in turn. Piercing his heart, he stumbled back, watching Jaskier fall. Watching the blood begin to seep out of him. Taking solace in the fact the bard still had strength enough to move, to half drag, half crawl his way free of the chaos around them.

Geralt did not get to see where he finally collapsed, distracted by his remaining attackers. Only hoping wherever Jaskier settled was far enough to be free of trampling feet and falling weapons.

He cut through the rest of the men in a blind rage, taking out the burning anger he felt at himself on them instead. Gaze hazy with blood he sliced through them mercilessly, caring only for speed and nothing else.

After the last one falls, he does not bother to check that they are truly dead, does not care to know. He only has one point of focus now.

Jaskier. He spots him easily enough, curled against the cold stone wall. Eyes fallen shut, brow soaked with sweat. Geralt allows himself a sigh of relief upon seeing that Jaskier’s chest is still moving, in quick shallow grasping breaths.

He tries not to let himself think about what that could mean. Tries not to think about the worst possible outcomes. About the cost of battle. He is accustomed to paying in blood, though usually it is his own.

He focuses on the breath, raspy and weak but present, focuses on how it tugs on the bard’s chest, continuing to move it up and down with each pull.

He rips a length of the doublet off, ignoring Jaskier’s voice in his head, scolding him, arguing that it didn’t matter it was practically sliced in two, it could have been repaired, dammed brute, ruining perfectly good clothes.

He ignores the thoughts that come in his own voice, wishing Jaskier was awake and coherent enough to voice such complaints on his own. He resolves to let the bard yell at him over it all later when he recovers.

He will recover. He must recover. Geralt cannot afford to think on the alterative.

Geralt presses the cloth against the wound, pressing it down as hard as he dares. He startles slightly, when Jaskier gasps, glassy eyes falling open, tired and heavy hands weakly batting at him, not truly seeing Geralt’s presence.

Geralt ignores them, shrugging them off with ease. He rips off more shreds of Jaskier’s clothing, using these to secure the others in place. Tying them as tight as he can manage, pulling until he swears he can almost hear Jaskier’s ribs creaking in protest.

He ignores the way Jaskier has fallen still, head lolling uselessly against the wall beside him. He ignores the clouded glassy eyes, staring out but seeing nothing. He tells himself it will be fine, everything will be fine.

If it is not fine then that is entirely his own fault.

He makes an attempt at rousing him, lightly slapping the bard’s face, calling his name. He gets no more than incoherent mumblings and groans in response. Though the hands at least seem to move with some more level of confidence, now actually managing to find purchase against him.

Knots secured he scoops up the bard, cradling the smaller man, carrying him akin to bridal style against his body. It’s an awkward position, to be sure, but he will not take the risk throwing the bard over his shoulder, potentially damaging the man’s chest any further.

He hurries out through the building, sending out a silent thanks to whomever may be listening that they encounter no further trouble along the way. He has neither the time nor patience to deal with more guards right now. If the bastard wants to cheat him out of his money then so be it, he will return at another time to get what he is owed. And possibly more if the small shuttering body in his arms stops drawing in breath.

Make the lord who thinks himself above paying a Witcher pay with his own blood.

He hopes it will not come to that.

He tries to ignore the blood, already seeping through his makeshift bandages, and dripping slowly onto his arm. Ignoring the way his arms now feel warm and slick in a way they had not before. Equally he ignores the sound of it on occasion falling off him, splattering against the unforgiving ground.

It will not do to think of such things now.

Instead he focuses on moving, one foot after another, careful, have to be careful. Any stumble or slip could cost the bard his life. He could not let that happen.

So he focuses on the rhythmic slap of his footfall, focuses on the clear path before him, willing any beings before him to be wise enough to get out of his way.

He finds Roach exactly where he left her, still stood patiently outside. Where he should have left the bard- No, no time for such thoughts now. Focus. Keep moving. He can do that, he’s good at moving. Moving and hitting and not thinking. Gods he wishes he were truly better at not thinking.

He pauses only long enough to wrap some real bandages around his makeshift ones, hoping these will do a better job at keeping the bards blood contained, then he is all but tossing Jaskier onto Roach’s back, finding slight solace in the way the man seems to almost have mind enough to keep himself right. Good. He would rather the man be awake enough to ride upright, if he has to tie him down that would likely only worse the bard’s wounds, likely speeding up the rate of blood loss.

He scrambles up behind Jaskier, pressing Jaskier against his chest, gently directing the man’s numb fingers to cling to the front of the saddle before he urges Roach forward.

He spurs Roach on as fast as he dares, aware both of the strain their combined weights would be putting on her, and the risk of Jaskier slipping off through his arms and hitting the ground. He rushes them out the gates of the manor, at least the heart of the town is not far, the healer only a little way beyond that.

He tries not to notice the way Jaskier seems to rest, completely weak against him, head bouncing along with every step. He urges Roach on, into a canter, hoping the smoother step will prove easier for Jaskier.

He ignores the ever-present smell of fresh blood. Ignores how shallow his breath has become. Ignores the fact there is nothing he can do but urge the already hurrying horse on faster.

He all but falls off Roach’s back on arrival, in his desperate desire to dismount. He pulls Jaskier down with him, grateful that he manages not to stumble. He practically tucks Jaskier under his arm, keeping him upright and dragging him along with Geralt.

Jaskier is muttering something, low beneath his breath, Geralt does not take the time to discover what, focused on bundling the bleeding man to the door of the small hut before them.

He had been there earlier this week, for supplies. He had had no idea he would find himself back so soon.

Close fist he pounds on the door, ready to break it down if no one answers.

He hears movement from within, picking it out over the sound of his own heartbeat, rushing within his own ears.

The creaking door swings open, its owner’s irritation quickly turning to understanding as Geralt shoves past her, lowering Jaskier as gently as he can manage onto one of the old wooden tables within the room.

She clicks her tongue at him, instead motioning for him to follow her behind a curtain, revealing instead a bed for Jaskier to be lain on.

The healer quickly pushes Geralt aside once the bard is settled, pushing him out the curtained room as she sets to work.

He finds himself in the front of the shop, then before long standing outside, hands suddenly empty, chest heaving, unsure what to do.

He busies himself, needing something, anything to distract his mind from what’s happening behind him.

He does not want to go to far, but he also can’t allow himself to ignore the other being under his charge. He walks Roach to the inn’s stable, having already rented a spot for the night. He doesn’t think about the room also booked upstairs. He sees that Roach is fed, bushed, hooves cleaned, cared for. It’s the least he can do, make sure she at least is looked after.

It’s a strange process, his mind fighting against each other the entire way, in part wanting to rush, speed through his tasks and get back to Jaskier’s side, part wanting to take his time, indulge in the distraction. Let horsehair fill his mind in place of the image of Jaskier slowly bleeding out.

Before long however he can find no more excuses to linger. He finds himself back outside the Healers hut, hovering, wishing there was something, anything that he could do to fix this. By now its early evening, he lets himself watch the sunset, tries to force his mind to remain blank, to focus on little more than the gradual change in light.

But soon enough, standing there, he no longer has reason to allow his thoughts to wander. They focus in, on his sword slicing through Jaskier’s flesh, on the bard’s face as he fell. On the scream.

He believes that scream may come to haunt him for the rest of his life.

It feels like he stands there, blankly, trapped in regret and useless indecision, for days before the healer reappears in the doorway, beckoning him in. He knows it can’t have been, the sun not even beginning to rise yet.

He follows her in, not thinking about the growing dread settling in his gut.

Jaskier is alive. The fact hits him like a ton of bricks, smashing into his chest and knocking the breath out of him. Ironic, as all he can focus on right now is Jaskier’s breath, the rise and fall of his chest, so blessedly deep and even. The wound stitched up, finally clean of blood.

“He will live.”

Geralt almost jumps, having all but forgotten the woman stood beside him.

“He will need rest, a lot of it, the wound will need to be bandaged, and the bandage changed daily, and it will most definitely scar”

Geralt feels a sharp stab of guilt at that. It feels obvious, a wound such as this would of course leave a scar, a permanent reminder of Geralt’s mistake. The bard would never be free of what he had done, no matter what happens now.

“My services” the healer continued with a pointed look “do not come for free.”

Geralt blindly tosses some coins at her, not caring for any more fights that evening.

She seems satisfied, pressing a small pot into his hand, “for the wound, it will help it heal, and this one,” she says, passing over a vial, “will help with the pain.”

He takes them, tucking them away, before gently lifting the bard, moving Jaskier as carefully as he can manage.

The innkeeper is not thrilled when Geralt blunders in, long past closing, having broken the lock when no one came to open the door. He is even less thrilled when Geralt informs him they will be staying another night at least, his disagreement managing to develop even further when he hears the rumour the Lord’s men may be after the Witcher. But enough coin eventually wins him over, agreeing to leave them be.

Geralt wastes little time in getting Jaskier to their room, placing him in bed. Hating how pale his skin remains, doing his best to focus in turn on the steady beat of Jaskier’s chest. He smooths the blanket over him, letting him rest. Geralt choosing instead to settle into the small chair in the side of the room, hoping to get some sleep himself.

He awakens late the next day, the sun already high in the sky, Jaskier still lying still in bed, only the continued raise and fall of his chest confirming the fact he was still alive.

Geralt approaches him slowly, soaking in the site, now that’s he is close he can see that is not all of Jaskier that moves, his eyelids fluttering ever so lightly, fingers twitching against the blanket. None of the movements admittedly as obvious as the bard’s chest.

Something about it is memorising, Geralt can’t resist placing an ear against his chest, letting his eyes fall closed and focusing on hearing the heart beating, working away inside, proof Jaskier is still alive.

When he straightens up Jaskier’s eyes are open, no longer clouded or glassy, but clear, staring back at him. Geralt feels his breath catch in his throat, instantly moving to pull back, pull away.

Jaskier reaches out before he can, grasping his hand, pulling him back. Geralt let’s himself follow the movement, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, still holding on to Jaskier’s hand.

Jaskier smiles at him, although Geralt doesn’t miss the slight wince when the movement inadvertently tugs at the wound in his chest.

They sit for a moment in silence, Geralt still listening to Jaskier’s heart, beating away in his bruised and broken chest.

When Jaskier finally speaks it could not be further from what he had expected, “I forgive you.”

Geralt cuts off a choked and angry laugh, “You could have died-“

“I didn’t.” Jaskier takes up Geralt’s hand, pressing it against his chest, against the wound Geralt had given him, the permanent scaring mark- “I’m not dead, it’s still beating. Because of you, because of all the times you’ve saved me that it can keep beating.”

“It’s because of me it almost stopped Jask.”

Jaskier smiles gently, “I forgive you.”

“Don’t-“

“I forgive you.”

Geralt chokes back a sob, dragging his free hand down his face, “you shouldn’t.”

Jaskier eyes narrow ever so slightly in response, “That is for me to decide, and I chose to forgive you.”

“You should not just excuse my actions-”

“I’m not excusing them.” Jaskier lifts Geralt’s hand from his chest, moving it instead to rest on Jaskier’s cheek, “I’m not denying what happened. I’m choosing to forgive it, to forgive you.”

“With time you may come to regret that forgiveness.”

Jaskier hums, gently nuzzling against Geralt’s hand. “I may, with time, though I do not currently believe I will.”

Geralt looks away, unsure of how to respond. It can’t just be this easy, he knows it can’t, he knows it isn’t. That even with the bard’s forgiveness both of them will still suffer from his actions. Jaskier would carry a mark of Geralt’s regret with him until his dying day.

“Perhaps you can forgive me-”

“I have.”

“-but I cannot be as quick to forgive my own actions.” He looks back at the bard, sees that now it is Jaskier who is avoiding his gaze, staring down at his bandaged chest.

“Then I will just have to stay with you until you do.”

“Jask-”

“-and show you how to forgive.”

“Jaskier.”

“I will Geralt, and that is a direct threat.”

Geralt chuckles lightly, knowing there is nothing he could say to sway the bard at this time. His only option is defeat, though he will not accept it with any level of comfort.

Jaskier cocks his head, watching the Witcher, “lay with me,” he demands.

“Jaskier-”

“Lay with me, grant me this wish at least, and we can work towards my others.”

Geralt allows himself a small, sad smile. He moves slowly, overly aware of Jaskier’s injured form, as he moved to settle beside the bard. He winds up practically wrapping around the smaller man.

Jaskier wraps an arm around Geralt, guiding him to lay his head once more on the bard’s chest, Geralt not missing Jaskier’s pained gasp when he goes to do so.

Yet Jaskier’s grip simply tightening when he tries to pull away, “no no, stay, just… be gentle.”

Geralt grunts affirmative, he will not fight with the bard any more today, being as careful as possible as he lies back down, letting himself settle against him, listening to the bard’s beating heart.

It was his fault, and he cannot find it in him to forgive himself yet. He is not sure he will ever find it within himself to do so.

But for now, he does not think of that, for now he just lets himself lie there, listening to Jaskier’s breath, as it slowly changes, growing slow and steady as the bard gradually drifts off to sleep.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #my fics #whump

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shineonmalcolmbright · 5 years ago

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Shine On, Bright: Chapter Thirty

Table of Contents

Past

“MY BOY! Where you going?! You can’t. . .MY BOY! COME AND TAKE YOUR MEDICINE!”

For a split second, Malcolm really thought it was Martin coming after him. It was all rather confusing. Snow kept splashing up in his vision along with leaves springing off the hedges and into his face. Behind him, there was more than one person yelling. It was hard to say if it was all the ghosts, the ghosts between the walls or the walls themselves shouting after him.

But whoever kept yelling after him, “MY BOY! COME AND TAKE YOUR MEDICINE!” Was very real and was very close and was very loud with the way he ran and chased after him. John Watkins, right? Wasn't that the name he said or had it been another one? Lies occurred strangely in his brain between those in the know. Sometimes the lie was so good it became reality and sometimes it was so bad, he never learned the lie. Either way, his father's friend chased him down out there the enormous hedge maze. All sorts of monsters walked out there and he brought in an additional one.

Some faded memory almost knocked him off his feet. Malcolm looked both ways to see where to go, he arrived at forking path after forking path after forking path. Yet he kept choosing at random hoping he chose right although the maze continued to eat him up. Still, the memory crept on him because there wasn’t something right, not something right, which he’d known all along. By known though, there was a lot of slippery mystery to it. But he'd been writing it all down.

He wrote it down all along.

He'd been trying to calculate it and lost some truths between the lines.

The memory was like a drowned image, not too clear, but they were the missing pieces to all he’d been writing down.

11/07: Malcolm heard somebody whispering for help, telling him he had to help her. He rose up from his seat in the library and left to go see. Somewhere around Room 217, he touched a the door, toyed with the lock, it open right up, but before he could enter something creaked out in the hallway. He looked over to see Martin standing there with a huge smile.

“Malcolm, what did I tell you about going into the rooms?”

Malcolm released the doorknob.

“Come here, you need to go take your medicine.”

Malcolm started to follow him almost tripping up on the idea of medicine because he couldn’t remember there ever being any. But before he could form a question it felt as if he were drowning. Something touched his face and his vision blurred and blurred and blurred until. . .

11/08: Woke up in library. Thought I went to bed.

Something stirred in front of Malcolm causing him to pause because once again he has options to choose from. He’s lost in a garden of forking paths. Whatever moved encouraged him to redirect his path but it was hard to tell where it was. Something was ahead of him and something was behind him and he had no idea which forking path was the right forking path. One threat was human but the other. . .

Later in the Day on 11/08: Malcolm froze up on the steps to the boiler room. It was pitch black down there and he hoped the darkness would eat him up. He meant to look through some information but heard a humming. Though this wasn’t a ghost humming. Somehow he managed to recognize the sound. Underneath one of the steps, the crooked woman scrapped her hands across the wood.

She whispered to him, “Maaaaaaalcolm? Maaaaaalcolm?”

“Malcolm?!” The humming stopped and at the bottom of the steps stood Martin. He held onto a flashlight looking up at Malcolm. He’d been listening to music down there, whatever it was only whispered. “What are you doing down here?”

Malcolm eyed the boxes down there without saying anything, at first. Then he lied, “I was looking for you."

“Where’s your mother?”

“Upstairs.”

Martin stepped up onto the bottom step. It creaked, louder than the whispering crooked woman. Maaaalcolm, Maaaalcolm, it’s time to take your medicine. Still Martin smiled and Malcolm summoned his best smile.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” With that, he came up to Malcolm, put an arm around his shoulders. “It’s dangerous down here. You shouldn’t be here.”

“What-What were you doing down here?”

“I have to take care of the boiler otherwise it’ll blow up this hotel. It’s dangerous.” Martin replied as he continued to lead Malcolm away from the room with the crooked woman still whispering after him. Maaaaalcolm. “More important, what's happening with you? Why aren't you in bed?”

“I couldn’t sleep. . .” Malcolm whispered while looking over his shoulder thinking about the humming and the box of news articles, but most important, the boiler was on the opposite side of the room than from where he heard the humming. It was darker than dark on that half of the room. Whatever Martin been doing was lost, lost to his memory as something came over his head. It felt as if somebody pulled a pillowcase or a blanket over his whole face. One second, he was stepping upward and the next he was falling backward losing whatever happened next because. . .

11/09: Woke up in ballroom (?). Remember going to bed. Mother said something to sleep better. Don’t remember falling asleep.

Oh shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot! Malcolm sprinted forward taking the path to the left. No reason to why he chose it, but somehow it felt right. Maybe if he let intuition guide the way, it’d help. It’d help a lot. He was better connected to this world than most.

GIIIL!

Gil didn’t answer him and Malcolm almost tripped over his own feet. He stalled without a new path to choose and looked back at the Overlook Hotel. A lot of lights were left on. It looked ablaze in the night while its walls continued to sob, it sobbed for him to come back. The snowflakes were falling harder, a lot of them were getting caught up in his hair and his eyelashes. His mother and sister were still inside with death literally crawling around each and very single corner.

Gil?! Please!

And he caught a brief response from Gil, What is it, kid?

The momentum of Watkins’ movements shattered his thoughts, any connection he could keep. The man crashed straight into him, burying him in the snow. Its coldness broke through any semblance of safety. There wasn’t any place to run. Nowhere to be safe. The cold hurt, the impact of a person throwing him to the ground hurt, everything hurt. If Gil had anything else to say, it was lost to the shining. And whatever was going on in John Watkins' head was lost to him as well. There wasn’t anything, nothing, he couldn’t hold onto a single thought inside the man’s brain.

Malcolm tried to punch the man. His hands flailed all around, he kept punching hitting Watkins in the chest and the shoulder and it wasn’t helping him at all. His elbow caught the side of Malcolm’s face as he went to grab onto something. Either from his person or something, he dropped. More pain. Malcolm did his best to wriggle upwards and out, to start running again.

With one hand, Watkins managed to keep him pinned there. Malcolm continued to sink through the snow in their scuffle. The icy ground bit his back. With one hand he let go of the idea of punching and remember the slight semblance of safety he had. Pocket knife. He had a pocket knife. Before Watkins could get whatever it was he wanted, Malcolm somehow found it in him to use the knife. He dug it into Watkins’ side. The blade seemed to pop as it shredded skin and whatever it was underneath. It nicked something hard.

Watkins screamed.

Malcolm sobbed.

No longer holding onto the knife, Malcolm moved. He abandoned it in his attacker. Watkins rolled over looking at his wound and instead of going along the same path, Malcolm sprinted toward the Overlook. Its lights still on and the building still grinning as it watched him. Watkins choked on curses as he laid back there on the ground. Malcolm took a few different turns within this garden of forking paths to get away, to get far away, to get as far away as possible.

Some roots tripped him and Malcolm face planted, right back into the snow for him. Though his hand stained it red, it splashed up as one of the topiary creatures walked. Its feet digging into the ground. Malcolm laid as still as possible letting the snow eat up any sobs that escaped. The creature moved right past him, never noticing him. Death was here and around every path and every corner.

Malcolm scooted up looking at his hand. He tried to rub his palm in the snow hoping it’d wash it clean. But it didn’t. Of course, it didn’t. Frozen water, that’s what it all was after all. He kept on trying listening to the creature move as far away as possible. His skin reddened more and more as the cold nibbled on his skin. The brownish red of blood stayed there though.

Snot clogged his senses. With his less bloody hand, he tried to wipe his face and crouched there. It was hard to tell if it was safe to move. Then again, the answer was no. The whole place was brimming with such danger. Somewhere he was pretty sure somebody was screaming or shouting, but it could also just be the wind. They were stuck in the midst of a snowstorm.

Listen to me, Malcolm. . . It was Gil again, but he wasn’t around. Malcolm looked. He shrugged a little closer into the hedge maze letting branches scratch him up. Better than sitting out there in the middle of the path. There was still Watkins out there who was wailing in pain wherever he left him. Before anything happens, I need you and your family to get downstairs into the lobby, find somewhere safe to hide. I’ll be there as soon as possible.

Snot bubbled in his nose. He pulled back further into the area right beyond the forking paths. Just the garden part. A slight silence fell upon him. The snow tried its best to soak up what sound it could. It helped hide his sobbing, but so did his knees, he curled up there, staying out of sight. But people die of the cold all the time. He’d need to still run and get inside. It wasn’t safe in there and it wasn’t safe out here.

What if something already happened?

Whatever connection he clung too was all faded like walkie talkies that were separated too far. There was static in the shining. Gil wasn’t close enough to them yet. Distance was hard to define. Gil said something else, but it was lost in the static. Worse though, the branches in front of him started to move. Malcolm pulled his legs closer to himself wondering how to become invisible.

“Malcolm!” Jessica gasped. He looked up to be sure it really was his mother standing there. She yelled to somebody in the distance. “Over here! I found him!”

Martin walked up beside her, he smiled at Malcolm. “Whatever has gotten into you, my boy?” He shook his head as he moved forward. “Let’s get you inside before you freeze to death.” All of Malcolm’s joints felt frozen already, they popped as they moved with Martin struggling to get him out. All Malcolm kept thinking to himself was Resist, Resist, Resist and Martin was forever stuck on, How’d he know? “We wouldn’t want that to happen now.”

#idk guys i tried so hard to write a good scene and i dunno #but #prodigal son #malcolm bright #prodigies #martin whitly #the shining #overlook hotel #shineonbrightfic #Malcolm Bright Whump #and up next all there is #is PAIN

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cookiecuttercritter · 6 years ago

Text

Live Action

In this tribute to artists, dreamers and anime, an autistic daydreamer and a disillusioned baker have a falling out once it’s revealed that the latter has been stealing the former’s art.

Word count: ~3000 (15 screenplay pages)

AN: Happy Autism Acceptance Month, everyone!! Nat is a Japanese-American middle-grader who’s special interest is character art. I’m still learning so please don’t hesitate to let me know if I got anything wrong!

FADE IN:

EXT. REVERIE

Grainy paper and granite-dust fingerprints. A line darts across the frame -- a horizon.

Bits of debris and rubble materialize, populating the landscape. They're partially formed and crude, as if scrawled with an impatient hand.

AURORA, 14, reluctant yet stalwart, stands with her eyes glued to the top of an off-kilter skyscraper. She casts off a tattered seafoam fur-lined coat, raises her hands, conjures ethereal snowflakes between her palms -

She's HIT in the shoulder! She gasps, her ice magic dissipates. She jumps back -- a burnt yellow, amorphous projectile plunges itself into her winter boot, CEMENTING HER TO THE SIDEWALK. It's superheated, she's burned. She screams. Aurora looks back up at the tower, all dismay and pleading eyes now.

AURORA Vanilla, please! -

Atop the slanted skyscraper, VANILLA, 13, stands proud, her face hidden in shadow. Her magical girl outfit is decked out with yellow ribbons. She's pulling amber hot sugar with her bare hands, stretching and twisting the strands into a thin baton, which she holds out to cool in the falling snow.

AURORA You don't have to -

Vanilla snaps the candy cane over her knee, producing two spear-tipped halves. She levitates the shards to either side of her, takes aim...

Vanilla turns and walks away, leaving the broken shards to JAVELIN toward a defenseless, wide-eyed Aurora -

AURORA VANI -

SMASH CUT TO:

INT. NAT'S BEDROOM - MORNING

NAT's eyes snap open. Soft mint bed sheets rustle in the morning light.

AMANDA, 40, Nat's mother, hollers from beyond the door.

AMANDA (O.S.) Nat! Get up already, you're gonna be late again!

Nat just whines in response.

MONTAGE:

- She shoves a sketchbook in her backpack.

- Zips her bag up.

- She pulls on a pastel turquoise sweater.

- She kicks unfinished sketches under her bed, where they join a slew of coloring pencils, markers, gel pens, and old sketchbooks brimming with stick people.

NAT (V.O.) My name is Nat Okura. I'm 14 years old. I'm in the 8th grade. And there's something about me that no one -- and I mean, no one -- can know about.

- She stands in her doorway adjusting the straps of her backpack. Her room is plastered wall-to-wall in drawings of cartoons, lined and colored, crude yet dynamic, the very style that came alive in her Reverie. She shuts the door.

- TOAST! She tries to pluck it fresh from the toaster, drops it, hisses with pain.

- Spreads jam on toast.

- Jams toast in her mouth.

MONTAGE END.

INT. FRONT DOOR - MORNING

Nat slips into her shoes at the front door, toast between her teeth.

Amanda descends upon the scene. She's firm but well-meaning. She plucks the bread from Nat's mouth.

AMANDA Don't do things in parts or people will get confused. You have to commit.

She pulls Nat in for a hug. Nat stiffens at the sudden contact, she waits out the hug rather than reciprocating.

AMANDA Have fun, darling.

EXT. CITY STREET - DAY

Nat speedwalks down the street, making anxious faces and whispering to herself under her breath.

NAT "I just wanted to be... somebody..." "I know you did, but one of these days, you're gonna have to learn to be happy with the hand you're dealt..." "One of these..." "One of these days -

An L train RUSHES by, rumbling noisily.

A sound effect bubble RIPS across her path in tandem with the speeding train, 'TAK-TAK-TAK-TAK-TAK' etc.

Nat shutters to a stop, takes a step back, narrowly dodging the bubble. It vanishes once the train's passed.

She's tapped on the shoulder. It's MELODY, 13, playing the tap-the-opposite-shoulder prank. Nat falls for it. Melody beams.

MELODY See you in class, Aoi-chan!

She zips away, light on her feet, small yet assured in her oversized yellow hoodie. She threads under the L tracks.

FLASHBACK:

INT. L STATION - NIGHT

Amanda pulls a YOUNG NAT, 8, along. College students chatter, music blares from an unseen source, trains pull up and jet off. Text bubbles pops up with each cacophonous addition. They crowd out the already-stifling space. No one else senses them.

Nat wrenches her hands from her mother's and covers her ears, screws her eyes shut. Amanda urges her on, it doesn't work. Amanda grows frustrated, people are starting to look.

Suddenly, Nat is GRABBED from behind and pulled into a hug. She SHRIEKS. It's just a YOUNG MELODY, who lets go immediately.

YOUNG MELODY I'm sorry! I'm sorry!

PREEYA, Melody's mom, pulls her away.

PREEYA Apologies, she has so much energy...

Nat peers at Melody.

FLASHBACK END.

NAT "Tch. You're gonna be late."

Nat forges on toward school. The real world and her Reverie mesh together. Melody, receding into the distance, resembles Vanilla without any of the magical girl embellishments.

A colossal Beast with an untamed mane hidden in shadow rises above the school.

Nat -- Aoi -- transforms into Aurora with a wave of her hand and a burst of light. She parkours effortlessly up to the L, sticking a three-point landing on top of the moving train.

New tracks materialize, redirecting Aurora toward the school, straight toward the monster.

She brandishes a blade, seemingly out of thin air. She leaps off the train, rising impossibly high, swings her sword with a flurry of conjured snowflakes -

INT. CLASSROOM - DAY

Nat blinks. She's back at her desk and she doesn't like it one bit. Her knee bounces restlessly.

Down one side of her lined notebook, there's some 8th grade biology nonsense about the freezing point of water. On the opposite page, she's doodled a katana and written under it, 'SLICICLE?!' and, 'SNOWDROP' and finally, 'SILVER STORM', which is underlined and circled several times.

She sighs, ignoring the lecture, slides her notebook aside, revealing her sketchbook underneath. She starts sketching Aurora posing with her blade.

INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - DAY

Nat sits on the ground, leaning against her locker, sketchbook propped upright against her knees so as to hide the contents from milling extras. She sketches frantically, head bowed, refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

Wispy shadows lash out at her from under the lockers. She glares at them and they scatter.

Melody approaches from the other end of the hall. She chats up other students as she passes, tackle-hugs a few, shares a secret fistbump with one, plays tap-the-opposite-shoulder with free abandon. She pulls to a stop before Nat.

MELODY 'Sup.

Nat shuts her sketchbook sharply, looks up briefly, then breaks eye contact like it burned.

FLASHBACK:

INT. FRONT DOOR - NIGHT

Amanda answers the front door. Young Melody shoves a tray of brownies in her face. Preeya is there too.

INT. NAT'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Young Nat sits on the floor of her room fidgeting and doodling stick people. Melody creeps over, fully intent on watching. The door's been left open, and Preeya and Amanda are sat in the living room beyond.

PREEYA She made those herself, you know? It was all her idea.

AMANDA Such a sweet girl.

Melody offers Nat a brownie.

YOUNG MELODY Sorry for trying to hug you. I should've asked first.

Nat merely slides her sketchbook back and away.

Melody blinks, bemused, stuffs the brownie in her own mouth.

AMANDA (sighing) Sometimes she doesn't understand what peoples' words mean. Takes things literally. She can be so cold sometimes.

Nat looks up slightly at this, registering it, goes back to drawing. Melody scoots right up to Nat, points at a teal-haired pencil-sketched girl.

YOUNG MELODY Is that you?

Nat tries to withdraw but Melody holds the sketchbook fast. Nat squirms as she answers.

YOUNG NAT It's Aoi.

YOUNG MELODY Aoi?

Nat writes it out in English then in hiragana. Melody watches raptly. And then:

YOUNG MELODY Can you draw me?

FLASHBACK END.

Back to the school hallway.

NAT Hey.

MELODY You good? Wanna head to class?

Nat stands, her open backpack tips upside down, spilling colorful stationary and loose papers EVERYWHERE.

Melody calmly helps pick stuff up but Nat scrambles to shove everything back in her bag, hating every passing second. Text bubbles pop up to accompany her halfhearted mutterings: 'PEOPLE ARE WATCHING...', 'EVERYONE'S STARING AT ME', etc.

She shoulders her bag and speedwalks away.

In her haste, she'd forgotten her sketchbook, which Melody holds up.

MELODY Hey Natty -

But it's too late. She's vanished.

Melody's puzzled expression morphs to one of determination. She alone understands the power of the artifact in her hand.

INT. MELODY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

She rushes over to her desk, switches on the desk lamp, flips open the sketchbook, whips out her phone, snaps off a few photos.

INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - DAY

Melody mills about a water fountain with JUNE and ANNA, two other students. They're flipping through Nat's sketchbook.

ANNA Mel, you drew all of these?

MELODY Um. Yup.

JUNE What? I had no idea you were a drawer!

Nat marches up to greet Melody, small and skittish. She takes one look at the sketchbook in Melody's hands, stops dead in her tracks. Her mouth falls open. She turns tail and storms back the way she came.

Melody traces Nat's wake as if shocked out of a trance.

EXT. CITY STREET - DAY

Nat marches home, under the L and back.

NAT "How could you betray me like that?! I trusted you!"... "I trusted you..."

Behind her, a shadow grows. She glances back. The beast engulfing the school SPROUTS ABOUT A MILLION EYES. They blink in unsettling syncrony. They turn on Nat.

With an assured flick of her wrist, she disappears in a flash of light and reemerges as Aurora, bringing her Reverie to the waking world.

The Beast advances, sluggish yet chilling. Aurora ICE-BLASTS IT IN THE FACE, but to no avail. The amorphous shadows SWAMP HER, blotting out the screen.

Aurora BURSTS from the darkness, gasping for air! She hacks uselessly with Silver Storm before being pulled under again.

INT. MELODY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

It's dark. Melody flips through the sketchbook. Nat's drawn Aurora and Vanilla in the same poses and situations over and over again. She frowns.

Light washes in from the living room through the open door. Suddenly, a silhouette. Hand-drawn and grainy. Yellow ribbons.

VANILLA What were you thinking? You know she doesn't like it when people look at her art before it's done.

Melody looks up briefly, then back to the sketches

VANILLA What're you gonna say to her? How are you gonna look her in eye and say, what? That you're sorry?

MELODY You -- they're my characters too.

CUT TO:

OVER BLACK;

The satisfying rustle of pages flipping in rapid succession.

YOUNG MELODY (V.O) What happens after they beat the Beast?

YOUNG NAT (V.O.) They go back and they do it again the next day.

SMASH CUT IN:

INT. MELODY'S BEDROOM - MORNING

Yellow morning light floods Melody's bedroom. Her eyes snap open.

MELODY (V.O.) Let's take it from the top. My name is Melody Kumar and I'm 13 years old.

INT. LIVING ROOM - MORNING

Melody yawns, stepping into the living room, pulling on her yellow hoodie. She sneaks by her brother, SHIVAM, 17, who's passed out on the couch, game controller in hand. She sidles up to the front door, dejected.

MONTAGE:

- Preeya clicks her tongue.

PREEYA My sweet little girl, why can’t you be more like your brother?

- Melody glowers at her homework. Behind her, Shivam plays a game, headphones on, shouting occasionally.

MELODY (V.O.) What’s so great about him?

- She glances up from a tin of cupcakes to catch her brother and mother hugging. She pays them no mind, goes back to piping frosting.

MELODY (V.O.) I was never gonna be the favorite child. So whatever, I found people who would like me the way I am.

- Young Melody hands out homemade cookies at school.

- Snap to earlier in the week: Melody chatting up multiple cliques, stopping before Nat.

MELODY (V.O.) But they don't give medals for being nice.

MONTAGE END.

Standing framed by the front door, she stuffs Nat's sketchbook in her bag.

MELODY (V.O.) I needed a real talent. I know I can be more than -

Voices echo in her head:

AMANDA (V.O.) ... Such a sweet girl.

PREEYA (V.O.) My sweet little girl...

Her face falls just as she’s pulling back the door.

MELODY (V.O.) And yet...

FLASHBACK:

INT. NAT'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Young Nat lies on the floor penciling in eyes, hair, a skirt. Young Melody inches closer to look. Nat pulls the notebook away. Moments later, she lays the book flat, revealing a candy-themed magical girl in a yellow costume. She points.

YOUNG NAT It’s you.

YOUNG MELODY Oh, I don’t know if I’m cut out to be a magical girl.

YOUNG NAT Are you kidding me? You’re the nicest person I know. Everyone wants to be friends with you and you put others before yourself. You’re the perfect magical girl.

YOUNG MELODY I guess. If you say so.

Nat spins the book back around, chews on the end of her pencil.

YOUNG NAT ... "Vanilla."

FLASHBACK END.

INT. NAT'S BEDROOM - DAY

Nat's scrunched up in a corner of her room, hugging a plush polar bear to her chest. She nudges a half-finished drawing of Vanilla, back turned and lording atop a spire, away with her foot.

She's been drawing lots. Her room is covered classic crumpled paper balls and doodles spanning at least three different kinds of paper, some half-colored, half-inked, half-baked.

NAT (V.O.) "Don't do things in parts or people will get confused. You have to commit." I don't think this is what she meant, but what do I know? Sometimes I don't understand what peoples’ words mean.

Knock-knock. She pushes the bubbles away. Knock-knock. There it is again. Bubbles fill the room. Nat shrinks in on herself until the congestion becomes unbearable. She stands.

INT. OKURAS' APARTMENT - DAY

NAOKI, Nat's father, 45, stands before Nat's bedroom door with Melody by his side. He's a fidgety sort of fellow, bursting with nervous energy. He speaks as if picking each word with great deliberation.

NAOKI She’s been like this for 3 days. She won't talk to us.

Melody raps on the door. Nothing.

MELODY Can I try talk to her alone?

Naoki leaves.

MELODY Thank you, Mr. Okura! (leaning toward door) Nat, are you there? Nat, I'm sorry -

INTERCUT WITH:

INT. NAT'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS

Nat, inches from the door, starts to back down.

MELODY (O.S.) ... Aoi-chan?

Nat stops, inhales sharply -

INTERCUT WITH:

EXT. REVERIE

Close on Aurora's face. She's silhouetted, shrouded in darkness.

AURORA I fight every day to live in this world that's not meant for me. And still, you feel the need to make it harder for me.

MELODY It's not like that! I-I wasn't thinking straight. I deleted everything, set the record straight -- I told everyone who really drew the art! Look, I brought your book! It'll never happen again -- Nat, are you still there? Nat?!

She puts a hand to Nat's door, rests her head against the wood. She sighs.

MELODY (V.O.) Vanilla turns back. She can't believe her eyes, can't believe she ever did that.

Vanilla does just that. She descends the tilted skyscraper bit by bit.

VANILLA I'm ...sorry? I can't say I know how you feel, but... I know why you fight the Beast.

Nat's eyes snap open at this. She's leaning against her side of the door, exhausted.

MELODY (O.S.) The Beast isn't there to remind you there's bad in the world. You already know that

It's revealed that Vanilla's sugar spears missed Aurora by mere inches. Aurora is unharmed but infuriated nonetheless.

Vanilla vanishes the pulled sugar with a wave of her hand. Aurora stumbles, her foot having suddenly been freed. Vanilla catches her.

VANILLA You fight the beast so that you know that you can. Over and over again. Every day. And I don't wanna watch you fight alone anymore. Melody leans against her side of the door.

AURORA (too quiet for Vanilla to hear) So it turns out we both have a little sugar and ice in us.

MELODY What was that? Na -- Aoi-chan, are you still with me?

Nat silently nods.

Melody takes a deep breath. The Reverie overtakes them both. Vanilla and Aurora stand back-to-back, as if preparing for battle. They're done this a thousand times before but this time, it's devoid of the fanfare. They're both tired.

VANILLA You let me into your world.

The Reverie recedes.

MATCH CUT TO:

Melody and Nat standing back to back with the bedroom door separating them.

MELODY Won't you let me stay? Even if we both know the live action will never be as good?

Nat cracks her door open.

END INTERCUT.

Melody holds her arms open wide.

MELODY Permission?

Nat nods and Melody goes in for the hug. This time, Nat reciprocates.

MELODY Nakama?

NAT ... Nakama.

They breathe again.

SMASH CUT TO:

INT. NAT'S BEDROOM - MORNING

Nat's eyes snap open.

MONTAGE:

- Nat kicks unfinished art under her bed where it joins a mass of other unpolished pieces, including but not limited to comic pages of Vanilla turning against Aurora.

- Melody puts yellow ribbons in her hair

- Nat pulls on her signature green sweatshirt.

- Melody snaps pictures of her homemade breakfast scones.

- Nat slips into her shoes. Amanda comes up from behind and shoves her sketchbook in her backpack. She asks Nat if she's okay with a hug today and Nat nods. They embrace.

MONTAGE END.

EXT. CITY STREET - DAY

Melody darts to catch up with Nat on the way to school. She's got a jam-slathered slice of scone sticking out of her mouth, which Nat appraises, then -

NAT You're kidding me, right?

Melody shrugs, takes a bite, holds the scone in her hand.

MELODY Are we gonna do this or what?

A monstrous shadow creeps toward them.

Nat nods. She flicks her wrist, she and Melody vanish in a burst of light -

Grainy paper scenery. Aurora and Vanilla pose back-to-back, smirking. Vanilla pulls molten sugar into a whip and Aurora swings Silver Storm at the screen -

CUT TO BLACK.

#screenwriting #fiction #writing #anime #writers on tumblr #creative writing #autistic characters #script #screenplay #autism acceptance #magical girl #aspiring writer #deconstruction #writeblr #cookie's writing #cookie's stuff

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whispersafterdusk · 6 years ago

Text

In Your Hands - ch 8

There weren't words to describe how wonderful it felt to feel the wind on his face again.

The last three weeks were something of a blur; they'd finally found the Blackreach and had traveled through it's strange beauty until they'd stumbled upon a dwemer home where some long-forgotten scholar had stayed. Among the abandoned belongings they'd found a journal with maps that not only detailed the ruins they'd just traveled through but also had a map of Blackreach and the places beyond it as well.

They'd stayed there a night to allow Serana to feed again and Ralsten to recover from it, then had set out with considerably better moods now that they had a clear idea of where to go and what was ahead of them.

They'd eventually ended up in a large, circular room that had a massive metal orb in it with glass (emerald?) lenses set into sliding rings that moved around the orb, and curved metal arms tipped with identical lenses hanging from a circular support on the ceiling; surrounding it were desks and chairs with crumbling writings that had long since become impossible to read. The ceiling itself was lined with hexagonal and diamond-shaped sections of polished sapphire, or perhaps lapis lazuli, and the center most tile was -- they weren't sure if it was an open space that reached clear to the surface or some other sort of dwemer light source, but it shined a bright white that was too harsh to look at for long.

On a little platform overlooking the orb and the desks was a series of...Ralsten hadn't really had a name for them. They were a cluster of five rounded pedestals that had buttons set into their tops, next to one that stood apart that had a opening on top that could only have been for the lexicon they carried; they were odd in that they were colored as and looked like all the metal they'd seen up to this point, but when Ralsten touched one they felt rough, like stone -- it seemed time hadn't been kind to these and they were pockmarked and dusty. When Serana had slipped the lexicon into place two buttons had whirred and flipped over to reveal their tops were set with brilliantly blue stones that were somehow warm to the touch.

Ralsten had pushed the one nearest him and the giant orb had groaned to life, shifting in place as the rings spun. Pressing it again had made the other two buttons flip up too, leaving them staring at four buttons and no clear idea on what they did or what they were supposed to do.

"We need to try and line them up," Serana had suggested soon after, leafing through the scholar's journal. "I think that's what this man was trying to do, but we have a lexicon and he did not."

Through a lot of lengthy, embarrassing trial and error they had pressed the buttons until finally the lenses above lined up with those below and correctly redirected the bright beams of light. The circular part attached to the ceiling swung a huge, roughly diamond-shaped green glass object down to the center of the orb as all the other parts aligned to form a path to walk up to it.

As they approached the glass diamond opened and balancing within it on hooks was the Elder Scroll; Ralsten had reverently taken it from the hooks and turned to grin back at Serana, then noticed that a door panel in the stone behind her - a part of the wall underneath where the button pedestals were - had slid open. Beyond it was a short hallway to a room with just a lever and exposed cogs, as well as a ribbed metal indentation in the walls that the cogs fit into. The lever made the cogs lurch to life and the platform had steadily (and slowly) carried them out of the ruins and out into the biting cold of Skyrim.

There was an abandoned campsite just outside of the tower they stepped from - a pair of tents, a fire pit mostly buried in snow, and some chairs at a table were visible, and there were a few telling piles of snow that suggested where the persons who'd set up these things had disappeared to.

"Any idea where we are?" Serana asked.

Ralsten very carefully climbed up a rocky outcrop and peered at the landscape around them. "-no, not really. But I think I see a path that way. We'll probably find a road if we follow it, and if we find a road then we'll find signs pointing us to the nearest town eventually." He turned around and slid down the outcrop on his backside. "It's already getting dark though."

"We can go looking for it in the morning. I'd rather not be stumbling around in the dark looking for a path we might miss."

There was a sack of potatoes and some leeks they found frozen in a chest inside the largest tent; Ralsten cleared away the snow from the fire pit and, though it was a real pain to get the wood to catch fire, set about roasting the potatoes and leeks together inside the iron pot that hung above the pit.

"Seems like forever since I've had warm food," he chuckled.

"Or an open sky and a fire. I never thought I'd enjoy the smell of burning wood, but after those ruins..."

Ralsten nodded and blew out a long sigh. "At least now you've seen exactly why I don't like dwemer places."

She smiled teasingly at him. "And also why you managed to get lost in them."

The next morning came quickly; Ralsten sipped a cup of plain hot water to get some warmth back into him before they set out as Serana sat nearby on one of the abandoned bed rolls in the tent.

"That's one," he said into the silence. "Now we just need the one your mother either has, or knows of."

She nodded. "Wherever she is. I can't imagine a single place my father would avoid looking...and he's had all this time too. If he hasn't found her, I don't know how we will."

Nodding slowly, he combed a hand through his hair and beard, smoothing it all back into place before moving to start strapping his armor back on. "Somewhere he'd never look... If she's not sealed away, would she have gone to hide with someone?"

"Like who?"

"Would she have gone to the Dawnguard, like you did?"

Serana laughed. "I doubt she would waste her time with those fools. They probably would have tried to kill her, and that has a way of souring relationships. Any other ideas?"

Ralsten shook his head and continued to buckle and tighten down his armor.

When he later went to shove the tent flap open he paused, then turned back to Serana. "What about...what about in the castle?"

"...what?"

"The castle. Your home. 'Someplace he would never search.' That castle is a big place -- are there any places in it that she could be hiding without being noticed? Your father wouldn't likely think to search his own stronghold, if he's looking for someone who fled."

"Wait...that almost makes sense!" Serana replied after a moment, looking excited. "I used to help my mother tend a garden in the courtyard. All of the ingredients for our potions came from there...she used to say my father couldn't stand the place. It was too...peaceful."

Ralsten stepped out into the snow and crunched along for a few steps. "It does ring with a certain sense...but then, isn't that risky? Would she actually do something like that?"

"Oh, absolutely. My mother's not a coward." She moved out behind him, tugging her hood into place; the handle of the Scroll stuck up over her shoulder and glinted softly in the early morning sun. "I don't think we'll actually trip over her there, but it's worth a look. She may have left some clue as to where she's gone."

"I'm willing to try, but...your father isn't going to let us use the front door, I don't think."

"True. But I know a way we can get to the courtyard without arousing suspicion." At his skeptical look she smiled. "Trust me. I lived there for a very long time and I know every nook and cranny."

"What's your plan, then?"

"There's an unused inlet on the northern side of the island that was used by the previous owners to bring supplies into the castle. An old escape tunnel from the castle exits there. I think that's our way in."

"It's as good a plan as any." He started to trot through the snow, heading toward the the hill that he thought led down to the path he'd spied the previous evening. "We'll need to stop somewhere and resupply and ah...probably should go secure that Scroll somewhere."

"Where would you suggest?"

"Well, depending on which we're closer to, either to the fort or back to Solitude. I've places enough to hide that thing, and if we "sneak" in at night the only ones that should see us would be the guards."

-----------------------------------------------------

"The castle looks so big from down here. I mean, it is big, but well...even bigger."

"Did you spend a lot of time down here?"

Ralsten carefully edged the boat up to the rocky shoreline and used an oar to shove them up onto the sand; they'd decided to come in in broad daylight - a time where the castle's inhabitants would be asleep - and he was thankful for that as he wasn’t sure he would have been able to see any sort of clear area to land otherwise.

Serana waited until she'd gotten out of the boat to reply. "I like to explore. My parents almost never let me off the island, so yeah, I poked around down here a lot. It was pretty quiet back then...guess a little girl was enough to scare off the rats."

"That sounds pretty lonely."

She didn't respond immediately. "It was. But I got used to it."

"You were lonely a lot, weren't you?"

"Growing up the way I did, you got used to it."

He glanced back at her. "Do you still feel that way?"

She stared up at the imposing castle, then met his gaze again. "A little bit. That's...one of the reasons I wanted to come with you. ...what about you?"

"What about me?"

They began to trudge in closer to the cliff walls, moving as carefully and quietly as they could over the slick rocks and sludgy sand.

"Do you get lonely? Are there...many people in your life you're close to?"

Ralsten chuckled. "There's my daughter...I try to treat her as best as I can, even though I'm not home much. As for close friends -- it's something complicated. There's a lot of people in Solitude and elsewhere that know my name and face, and are friendly enough. But they're just...people I know. Acquaintances. I know nothing of them and they know nothing of me beyond my being a merchant who happens to explore more than he probably should." He looked over his shoulder at her, then turned forward again to hop over a deep puddle between two rocks. "Strangely enough, even though I've known you for less time than anyone else, I'd say you know more of me than anyone. And, for what it's worth, it's been rather pleasant to have someone at my side and watching my back while adventuring. I'm - well, I'm glad you're with me."

The look she gave him was one of surprise that tinged with embarrassment, but she smiled as she cleared the same puddle. "Me too. Anyway...this is all very touching, but we have some more important things to worry about right now."

Ralsten laughed and turned his attention back to navigating the rocks and leading the way around to the inlet she'd described; a very tiny stone dock had been built into the island here and there was a sunken ship blocking the way in by water. They stepped from sand onto stone and rounded the corner only to hear a growl and a creaking noise.

The docks appeared to be three tiers tall and standing at the railing at the very top was a skeleton clad in a ragged cape and hood, and was pulling back the string on its bow as the arrow's tip tracked toward them.

"Of course," Ralsten growled, drawing his maces and rushing forward.

The skeleton's attention followed him, the arrow drawn and ready to fire; Serana hit it with an ice spike and shattered one of its arms off, sending the shot wide as the hand holding the arrow fell away.

There were more rattling noises and suddenly skeletons were emerging from behind broken crates and out of what he assumed had to be some kind of gatehouse he hadn't noticed before - a waterfall roared off its top but from the little stone room beneath it came three skeletons armed with swords.

He charged into that group and managed to bash one in the skull with his buckler, sending it careening into the water and sinking from view. The other two split and attempted to flank him; as the elf parried one the other clanged its sword against his armor -- it left Ralsten shaking from the force and he could see where the sword hit by the little indent left in the steel.

Behind him he heard the familiar sounds of Serana's spellcasting and as he battled the two skeletons before him from above came a shower of broken bone and shattering ice. He blocked another overhead swing from the skeleton to his left with a mace and then slapped the haft of his other mace over the blade, twisting and ripping it out of the skeleton's hands and sending it clattering across the stone. He was peppered with bone fragments as Serana blasted another shard of ice through that one's rib cage, sending the entire construct crumpling to the ground in a disconnected heap.

An arrow fired from above him then and got caught in the fur lining around the neck of his breastplate; Ralsten hissed in surprise at the precise shot and knew he'd be dead if not for the armor he wore. He suddenly charged forward again, tackling the remaining skeleton and driving it backward and into the relative cover of what he'd thought was a gatehouse but found was just a covered area that permitted you to walk from one side of the dock to the other without getting soaked by the waterfall.

He skidded to a halt and began to wrestle with it, each trying to grapple the other. After several fruitless minutes of trying to get a hand hold Ralsten finally slammed his body up against the other, over and over again, forcing it into the wall until enough pieces broke off that the magic animating the bones dissipated and the skeleton fell lifeless to the ground.

Outside, just barely audible over the waterfall, he could hear Serana casting; the sharp sounds of the ice firing off was interspersed with the noise of lightning being thrown -- there still had to be skeletons somewhere above them.

He'd not seen any stairs on the side of the docks they'd entered from; inside this covered area was a set of steps that led upward but they were blocked by a small cave in. The wood elf hurried through the other doorway and saw a set of stairs ahead of him that went up to the second tier and he assumed would somehow get him up to the third as well. He ran up the stairs and almost collided with another skeleton - this one clad in ancient Nord armor and with a sword and shield in hand - as it stepped from the wreckage of the coffin it had burst out of.

Ralsten swung both maces in an overhead arc and the skeleton caught them on its shield, stabbing at him from underneath the shield's edge. The elf rotated his hips and dodged, dancing to the side and bringing the mace in his left hand over horizontally at the skeleton's shield arm, his right arm up and ready to catch any follow up swing on the haft of his mace.

The skeleton lowered the shield just enough to deflect the mace but stepped to the side quickly afterward; Ralsten and the skeleton circled one another briefly before the skeleton closed in while bringing his shield's edge down to crack against Ralsten's arm as the man tried to slam the head of his mace into the skeleton's hip, then it slammed the pommel of its sword into Ralsten's helm, right in the forehead.

The blow staggered him some and put him just off balance enough that the skeleton's next shield bash knocked him to a knee. He managed to get both maces up into a crossed position to catch the sword between them before it could smack him in the helm again; shoving upward Ralsten got enough space between him and the skeleton to get back to his feet and jump back to avoid the sword as it jabbed forward, then threw his hips back as the jab turned into a slice at his stomach. He wasn't especially worried about the sword actually hitting him as he knew there wasn't a remote chance that it could get through the steel, but the fewer bruises he ended up with the better.

He heard footsteps pounding up the stairs as he parried another two thrusts and knocked the shield aside with his buckler; with a loud crack the skeleton's shield arm shattered and an ice shard skimmed off Ralsten's upper arm as it blasted through the skeleton and kept going.

The loss of the arm did little to deter the skeleton but it did leave it with a gaping hole in its defense; Ralsten took advantage of its inability to defend its right side and pirouetted to bring both maces around to slam into the hip and ribs, taking a final blow to the shoulders from the sword before the skeleton's top separated from its bottom as the spine snapped in half and the animating spell broke.

Panting, Ralsten looked over to see Serana standing halfway up the stairs. "Is that all of them?"

"I think so."

He could feel sweat running off his scalp and down his neck, already beginning to chill. "Let's get inside and get to your mother's garden as quickly as possible. If your father had these things out here to protect this entrance then it means he hasn't forgotten about it."

Serana nodded in agreement and led the way up the stairs to the third tier, which was a narrow balcony with a single door that led into the castle. She seemed worried that the door wasn't locked but slipped inside with Ralsten close behind.

The castle seemed to be less maintained here, and the halls were full of skeevers, the death hounds, and more skeletons and gargoyles. The further they went the more nervous Ralsten grew -- if all these creatures were down here (well...not the skeevers, those things could feasibly be anywhere) that definitely meant this wasn't a forgotten place and was knowingly guarded.

They moved as quickly as they could, destroying each thing that leapt out of the shadows at them, until finally they worked, shoulder to shoulder, to shove open an old, rusted, incredibly tall door that spilled them outside into a courtyard.

The place was overgrown and blooming in some places and in others it was choked with dead plants; there were a few patios to either side but the chairs, tables, and even some of the heavy planters had been shattered and tossed aside. There was a small pond nestled between one patio and the courtyard's wall ahead of them, and in the middle of the garden was an enormous sundial -- it was corroded and filthy. Ralsten could imagine that this place had once been lush and beautiful, but now...

"Oh no," Serana said quietly. "What happened to this place? Everything's been torn down... the whole place looks...dead. It's like we're the first to set foot here in centuries." She looked toward one of the other doors. "This used to lead into the castle's great hall...it looks like my father had it sealed up. I used to walk through here after evening meals. It was beautiful, once. This was my mother's garden. It... do you know how beautiful something can be when it's tended by a master for hundreds of years? She would have hated to see it like this." She walked forward, moving up to the sundial and placing a hand gently to it. "Wait... Something's wrong with-"

"Look who has come home at last."

Both she and Ralsten froze as the deep voice echoed through the courtyard; Lord Harkon faded into view, looking down his nose at them from where he stood atop the upper level of one of the patios.

"Father..." Serana whispered.

He began to slowly stalk down the stairs, his boots loud upon the stone. "And I see you have the mortal with you that I specifically remember banishing."

Ralsten twitched, intending to slowly move his hand down to rest on the handle of a mace on his belt; Harkon seemed to vanish in the span of a blink and suddenly reappeared in front of the elf, hitting him with an open handed slap that lifted him from his feet and sent him crashing to the ground several feet away.

"Father!" Serana shouted. She moved as though she was rushing to Ralsten's side, only to be restrained by two others appearing just as suddenly as Harkon had -- a brown haired, bearded Nord man stood to her right, a white haired and wiry Altmer to her left, both seizing an arm and holding her in place.

"Stop! Father!"

Ralsten rolled to his feet, his head ringing from the blow. Harkon was already on top of him, a blade flashing in the light as it swung in and angled for what gap there might be between helm and shoulder; the elf threw himself into a roll but Harkon kept right on top of him. He caught the tip of the sword on his buckler and aimed a kick at the man's legs; the vampire skillfully dodged the kick and took a few steps back, then to Ralsten's horror his form shifted and grew -- grew taller, grew stronger, grew wings, fangs, and claws.

Before he could get to his feet Harkon was atop him again; he first ripped Ralsten's helmet off and tossed it aside then grabbed the collar of his armor in a two handed grip and lifted the elf like he weighed nothing, throwing him toward the pond where Ralsten landed on his back against a rock jutting from the water -- the impact blasted the air from his lungs and left him stunned, unable to fend off the vampire lord as he stood over him again and seized him by the throat with one hand, the other digging fingers down underneath the collar of the armor.

Ralsten clamped his hands around the lord's arm, struggling to pry his fingers from around his throat; with a strength he feared for a moment would snap his neck Harkon ripped the breastplate free and tossed it away.

"Did you really believe you could sneak into my home unnoticed, mortal?" Harkon hissed, his voice more guttural now with his altered form. His attention moved to where Serana still struggled against the two that restrained her. "And you...my own daughter, running about with unshackled cattle."

"Let him go," she bit out, trying to tear her arms free. The two vampires held firm.

Harkon stalked toward her, dragging Ralsten with a grip still around his neck; the wood elf choked and gasped, still desperately trying to free himself as he was strangled.

"Let him go?" Harkon repeated incredulously. "My dearest daughter, whatever makes you think I would let vermin run free about our home?" He loosened his grasp just enough to let Ralsten suck in a breath before tightening his fingers again. "And, please enlighten me - for what reason would you have to be in the company of this rat?"

"Let him go, father. He's -- he's been my travel companion. I left to explore." She sounded as desperate as Ralsten felt. "He's done nothing wrong."

"Wrong? There is no right or wrong with prey, my dear."

Harkon swung Ralsten forward, releasing his throat and knotting his other hand into the elf's hair as he kicked his feet out from under him, forcing him to kneel facing her.

"What were you doing here?" he growled.

Serana looked...stricken. Scared. "I-"

Ralsten winced as Harkon tightened his grip in his hair but continued to suck in raspy breaths.

"-I miss mother," Serana said finally. "This is the only place left of her, and..." She trailed off, looking pleadingly up at Harkon. "Just let him go."

"I spared him once. I do not intend to do so again."

"Father, please..."

Harkon went silent, studying her. Something softened in his expression, and he shifted forms back into his humanoid one (his grip on Ralsten did not falter, but now the elf was forced to lean backward slightly as Harkon shrunk in height). "...you always were one for keeping pets. If you want so very much to keep this...thing...in your company, he will be properly collared, or else he'll adorn the tables tonight."

Serana's expression hardened. "No. You will not kill him. You can't."

Harkon pulled back on Ralsten's hair, bending him even further and forcing him to stare up at the lord while also baring his neck quite openly to him; Ralsten reached up to grab his arm and found it just as unyielding as before.

"I can and I certainly will..." Harkon mused, but his attention stayed on Serana. "But, I am not so cruel as to deny my daughter a source of amusement, if that's what she truly desires. If you wish to keep your little pet, you will do it properly. Or else he is prey as any other."

At last the two vampires holding Serana let go but gave her a shove; she stumbled, then stood defiantly tall before her father.

Ralsten stared up at her; there was fear in his eyes and he had his jaw clenched.

"Well?" Harkon prompted. He pushed forward, lifting Ralsten up from his knees slightly; Ralsten winced at the movement.

Serana stared her father down, then lowered her gaze to her feet. "Fine. If you won't listen..."

"I will not have an unfettered mortal running about where he does not belong."

Serana nodded absently, jaw clenched. For several tense moments no one moved, then Serana stepped forward to lay her hands on Ralsten's shoulders.

The fear in his eyes changed to a resignation...an understanding. He dropped his arms to his sides and met her gaze evenly.

When the spell hit him she watched as everything faded from his eyes; they glazed over and all tension drained from him - Harkon released his hold and Ralsten swayed gently in Serana's grasp.

She leaned forward; as she'd done before she hovered over his neck, stomach twisting at what she was about to do. She'd fed from thralls before but this...this was -- this was different. This was Ralsten -- her rescuer, her guardian, her...her friend. And she'd led him back to this terrible place, and now...

She bit down and his blood spurted into her mouth; before when she'd fed she'd found it thick and sweet but this time it was as distasteful to her as the Falmer had been.

The moment she bit - the spell completed by the action - she felt a tingle in her mind. She knew, without really knowing or understanding how, that Ralsten was now firmly under her control -- any demands or orders she gave him he would carry out without hesitation. The thought was sickening, and guilt and shame flooded her.

Harkon let out a satisfied grunt and turned, gesturing to the two men that had appeared with him. "I will permit you to keep this pathetic thing -- none will touch him." The two others walked silently to the door and exited first; Harkon paused in the doorway, turning back to Serana.

"And do not think I haven't noticed the missing Scroll, daughter," he growled, tone dangerous. "You had best think of that while your pet keeps you company."

He swept out the door then, closing it with a barely noticeable click.

Serana waited until he'd left, then pressed her hands to either side of Ralsten's face; there was only recognition of his master in his eyes, nothing else...no sign of "him."

With a shaky exhale she pressed her forehead to his and closed her eyes.

#In Yours Hands #iyh #In Your Hands ch 8 #serana #dragonborn #bosmer #dawnguard #vampires #Ralsten #Harkon #thrall #AU #Skyrim

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dbhilluminate · 7 years ago

Text

DBH: Illuminate- Magnetism

(Chapter art by @kazimo )

Characters: Connor, Hank, Lenore, Gavin, Kate, Sarah, Axl, Simon, Reese Word Count: 13,072

Chapter Index

November 10th, 2038- 11:28 AM

The air in the debriefing room was stifling, even by an Android’s standards. Connor stood in the corner at the front of the room watching the glass doors for Hank’s arrival and fidgeted uncomfortably as he adjusted his tie and shifted his eyes from Viv, to Gavin, to the passers-by in the station beyond their private bubble, and back again. Although he’d grown used to waiting for Hank, it never got any easier, especially not now that it meant being left alone to his thoughts (or what he assumed to be his thoughts) on deviants. His conversation with Illuminate had been playing in the back of his mind on repeat for the last 34 hours, and he was having a hard time denouncing the truth in her logic.

Machines can’t feel things- they don’t fear death, they have no concept of self, but Deviants know fear. They have self-preservation instincts, they want to be loved and appreciated and seen as more than just property.

Which meant that even though the feelings of deviants could not be clearly defined, deviants did not fit the definition of a machine. Connor had been guilty of more than one of those things in the brief time since he’d met the Lieutenant. It had been a struggle to get Hank to warm up to him, and Connor had hated every nasty glare, disgusted groan, and disappointed sigh. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, the man’s opinion of him mattered now, and he’d realized he wanted to make him proud, even if it meant straying from his programming to do so, and that...

That’s called independent thought, and it’s an indicative trait of individuality, which is only known to occur in Intelligent Life.

Life… The word lit him up inside and made him forget for just a brief moment that he was a walking, talking housing of blue blood and biocomponents, and he caught a glimpse of who he could be without the shackles of Cyberlife binding him like a puppet on a string. But the feeling of exuberance passed as quickly as it had come, and he was there again, in the police station, waiting on Hank, watching his soon-to-be casemates, and dreading his next conversation with Amanda. Would she know if he was beginning to exhibit symptoms of deviancy? And if she did, what would become of him, the deviant hunter, fallen victim to the condition of those he had been created to hunt? She’d surely destroy him before he even knew what hit him.

Connor’s brown eyes floated through the empty air and passed over his hands as he lifted them to hip-level, then glanced at the handful of physical traits that marked him as an Android- the glowing triangle on his blazer, the neon band around his right arm… the LED at his temple turned yellow and he blinked slowly as a defeated look crossed his face. It didn’t matter what he believed or didn’t believe, he was stuck where he was- a tool of Cyberlife until they decided he was no longer useful to them, with no hope at a life of his own making. Ultimately, it didn’t matter which path he chose, both would lead to his death, one path was just more direct. For a moment he wondered how many deviants who were now free had thought the same before they were desperate enough to break free, but he stopped himself, sighed, and went back to fidgeting with the coin he carried with him everywhere he went. There was only one person who could help him sort through this mess, and she couldn’t help him right now.

Lenore sat hunched over the table with her chin in her palm, and her acrylic nails drummed impatiently against the tabletop as she stared aimlessly across the room at the far wall over Gavin’s shoulder and tried to ignore the fact that it wasn’t even noon and he was ready for a nap. Detective Reed was uncharacteristically quiet, though he had been since Special Agent Lenore had arrived and put him in his place with the heel of her pump against his throat (metaphorically speaking). He’d called the Lieutenant late last night and told him to come into the office by eleven sharp that morning and received a “Fuck you” before he could even finish his sentence. Once he told him Lenore was ordering him to be there, he’d reluctantly agreed, and yet there they were, half an hour later, still waiting on the bastard to arrive. By now Gavin had gotten so tired of being idle he’d slouched down in his chair so far he was practically laying down, with his feet stretched out under Viv’s chair and his arms crossed; his head bobbed forward and his eyelids fluttered shut before he popped back upright, repeatedly, as he fought back the desire to sleep.

With a sigh, Viv leaned back and flattened her palms against the table before asking the obvious question. “Is he always this late?” “Mmmhmm,” Reed mumbled, annoyed, without moving a muscle.

“In my experience, the Lieutenant is usually twenty-five to thirty minutes late,” Connor replied in a nonchalant tone, attempting to hide his annoyance. “I’ve already grown used to losing the first half hour of the day and now spend my time reviewing case files and logged evidence, and catching up on reports made during the night.”

Reed opened his eyes just so he could roll them into the back of his head with an annoyed, gaping frown and mumbled, “How proactive of you,” in as sarcastic a tone he could muster, though it didn’t go unpunished; he yelled in pain and jumped bolt-upright as Vivienne kicked him in the shin with the pointed toe of her shoes and gave Connor a dry chuckle. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” she noted with a smile that warmed her entire face and rounded out the apples of her cheeks. “Have you made any progress in learning about how deviancy spreads?”

He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated and redirected his eyes to the floor to the right of him, then sighed and hung his head in defeat. “No,” he admitted, “There’s no connection in any of the open case files- the model, batch numbers and manufacturing dates are all completely different. If it has anything to do with malfunctioning biocomponents, there’s no common denominator among them.” Viv nodded as an understanding sound rolled in her throat. “Well I’m sure you’ll find a lead soon, it’s only a matter of time,” she encouraged with a soft wink that made him feel a little more at ease. “Do you like what you’re doing though? You know, investigating crimes, chasing down criminals, interrogating suspects… all that jazz?” Connor tilted his head and furrowed his brow with a confused look as he considered his answer. He didn’t really know how to answer the question of what he enjoyed. “Criminal Investigation presents its own unique challenges, but I find it engaging to utilize my skill set to the best of my ability, and rewarding to accomplish even small victories toward succeeding in my mission,” he answered, but paused thoughtfully for a brief moment and added as an afterthought, “Though... I’m not sure what that has to do with jazz.”

“Come on Viv, why would you even bother askin’ it shit like that?” Reed chortled as she shot him a cold glare that didn’t deter him from finishing his thought through the loud, boisterous laughter. “You know it doesn't have opinions, it’s programmed to say that.” “Perhaps Detective, but he’s still more pleasant company than some humans I know,” she sneered with a smirk. “Oh, so you some kinda plastic lover?” he sputtered with a wide-eyed look. “Sometimes I feel androids deserve to be referred to as people more than the monsters we hunt,” she answered truthfully. “Well people aren’t coded,” he shot back. “And if programming is what separates them from us then you could stand to have some of their decency written into that monkey brain of yours,” she deadpanned as she popped her brows. “At least then you’d know when to keep your fat mouth shut.”

“Actually, biologically speaking,” Connor interrupted before turning to see the dumbstruck look on Detective Reed’s face, “Humans areprogrammed. Genetics determine your physical appearance, the functionality of your internal systems, and even contribute to some elements of your personality,” he elaborated as he tilted his head and commented in the most innocent of tones, “Perhaps that’s why most find yours so distasteful.”

Viv bit her lower lip and choked back a loud laugh, but before Gavin could retort, the door swung open and in walked Hank with a groan as he set down three cups of coffee on the table between the two mismatched partners.

“I’ve got no idea how either of you like your coffee, so you’ll have to add cream and sugar if you want it,” he rambled as he twisted one of the paper cups out of the cardboard holder, then took a long sip of the black drink in the hope that it would slap him hard enough to snap him out of this morning funk. “Good morning, Lieutenant,” Connor greeted in a pleasant tone from his corner of the room. “Connor what’d I tell ya before about formalities?” he scolded with a slight curl in his upper lip before he finally noticed the tension between Lenore and Reed; and when he did, his eyes widened and his lip curled even harder. “Sorry, Hank,” he corrected.

“Jesus, and I thought I was a shit morning person,” he mumbled as he leaned against the whiteboard at the front of the room and watched Viv reach for one of the cups. “What the hell did I miss?” “Nothing relevant to the case at hand,” she replied as she stood and held out a hand to him with a friendly grin and wrapped her bony fingers around his as he begrudgingly accepted her handshake. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Lieutenant Anderson.” “Special Agent Vivienne Lenore,” he recited with a forced half-grin. “Now why the hell did you call me here so early in the morning?” “Cards on the table…?” she started with an honest glance. “I was hoping we could collaborate on our cases and share information,” she explained without reservations. “We have reason to believe that Illuminate is helping shepherd fugitive deviants to a location known as “Jericho”, which means every deviant you track down may bring us closer to finding her.”

“It,” Gavin corrected as he knocked back a long swig of his coffee with a distasteful grimace. Viv blinked rapidly several times and only half-turned and shifted a sarcastic gaze in his direction without looking at him. “The adults are talking Beavis, so shut the hell up for a few minutes, alright?”

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she closed her eyes for a moment long enough to exhale a slow, deep breath and let the anger burn out of her before she continued. “So what do you say…?” she reasoned, “You scratch my back, and I scratch yours. Together we’ll figure this shit out, one way or another.” “You couldn’t’ve just asked me this over the phone!?” he whined with a tired crack in his voice and sighed. Lenore cracked a smile and laughed quietly. “I could have but, well… then I wouldn’t have managed to do what no one in this precinct has been able to do in years.”

“What?” Hank blinked hard and shook his head as he looked over at Connor, who stifled a laugh. “This was your doing, wasn’t it?” he accused, dreading his answer. “Nooooo..." he denied coyly with a shit-eating grin, "But look on the bright side, Lieutenant,” Connor redirected with a triumphant smile. “You’re here before noon!”

November 10th, 2038- 12:00 PM

“Have you finished extracting the metadata from that drive I gave you?” Kate asked, her eyes bouncing between the three screens like a ping pong ball as she cross-referenced thousands of lines of code in the blink of an eye, looking for anything out-of-sequence that didn’t fit the pattern. “Script’s running now,” Sarah replied as she leaned back in her seat. The chair-back bounced into place and she crossed one leg over the other, stretched her arms out long above her head and ran her fingers through her long black hair, held up in a high ponytail, then shifted her cropped moto-jacket and crossed her arms as she swiveled to look at her. “I’m curious though... what do you think you’ll find?”

Kate unfocused her eyes and paused mid-scrolling to shift her gaze to the digital magazine on her desk with a picture of Cyberlife founder Elijah Kamski himself on the cover. Although he had officially resigned as CEO and left Cyberlife ten years prior, the rise of Android-related incidents had drawn him out and back into the public eye to address the growing concern that Androids were capable of becoming self-aware. When the media looked to Cyberlife for answers, Kamski had stepped into the spotlight to assure them that the idea of androids deviating from their programming was just “not possible” to pacify public unrest, but something about the way he spoke just didn’t sit right with her. There was always this look in his eye like he knew something his interviewers didn’t- like he wasn’t giving them the whole truth, like he was lying to them. Because the thing about Elijah Kamski was, like the snake in the garden, he was charismatic and oh so convincing: the man could have said one thing and meant the complete opposite, and no one would have ever thought to second-guess him. Because Why would the man who left Cyberlife steer them wrong? But Kate knew he was hiding something, she just couldn’t put her finger on what.

“Kamski’s lying to the public about deviancy,” she answered quietly as she returned to her work. “I think he either knows what causes it, or programmed it himself, and I’m going to find proof and expose him.” Sarah blinked slowly and raised her eyebrows as her head bobbed back in surprise. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?” she asked with uncertainty in her voice. “You know the absolute chaos that would cause.” “That's what I'm counting on,” she replied as she dragged her fingertips across the tabletop, circled chunks of code on the capacitive screens and swiped them into a collection of digital notes under her elbows; Kate minimized some of the windows she’d been working in and used her fingers to spread out the clipped text before her, then pushed her chair back, stood and leaned over the desk so she could look at them from above. “If the humans get too comfortable with thinking nothing is changing, it means we’re moving backward.” Sarah lifted her hands at the wrists and lowered her green-eyed gaze to meet her eyes. “All I’m saying is, if you tip the scales that heavy? It’s going to put our people at risk,” she explained as she reached over and tapped her fingertips against the tabletop. “We’re talking production shutdown, mass deactivation, security checkpoints- we won’t be able to move around the city, much less escape if something happens. Jericho will be vulnerable, and there won’t be a thing we can do to undo that kind of damage.” “Maybe,” Kate shook her head, turned and leaned back against the edge of her desk as she crossed her arms and ankles and ran her thumb over her lower lip idly. “But if I could get Kamski to admit androids are capable of true sentience, it could change everything,” she insisted with hope in her voice as she watched the woman pry a knife out of the wall on her side of the open room. “The masses would take him at his word, and all of this would end.” “That’s a big if to hang the hope of our victory on,” she challenged, flourishing the knife with a flick of her wrist for emphasis in her direction. “Kamski’s a wild card, he’s not on anyone’s side,” Kate reminded. “He has no loyalty to protect anyone’s self-interest other than his own.” “So then why is he lying?” came the idle question as she ran her fingertips along the edge of the blade, and eyes flickered back to her. “Why is he helping Cyberlife?” Illuminate shrugged, held her hands out to her sides and sighed. “I’d say “because it’s what Cyberlife wants him to say”, but everyone knows Elijah Kamski does what Elijah Kamski wants… and I can’t even begin to imagine what his motives would be, or what he could possibly gain from inciting civil war.” “Some men just want to watch the world burn,” Sarah quoted in solemn thought through clenched teeth. “Or maybe he just wants to watch Cyberlife burn,” she mumbled as Sarah gestured over her shoulder to Simon and Axl, who had appeared in the doorway behind her. Kate heard the heavy thud of blade splitting wood as she turned and flashed a small grin at him, which he returned it with a soft smile.

“Let me know when it finishes,” she threw over her shoulder to her before giving her full attention to the only one she felt she could truly call “brother”. “So how was the walk this time?” she asked as she wrapped her arms around him and leaned up on her tiptoes to set her chin over his shoulder. He gave a shy glance to his escort as he made his way to his desk at the back of the open room, then leaned down and returned the gesture. “Not so bad,” he concluded as he lifted her off her feet for just a second, plopped her back down and ruffled her hair with one hand. “Thank you for sending someone to meet me this time.” “Don’t thank me, thank him,” she insisted as she turned and gestured with a nod toward her surveillance expert, who was standing over his laptop and camera sorting through pictures he’d taken of the Stratford Tower. “Axl was really upset that you were harassed on your way over the last time you stopped by, and he wanted to be sure it wouldn’t happen again.” Simon’s face softened and he smiled fondly as he remembered how he had pushed the men off him to help him up and spit at the ground in disgust as they hurled insults and curses in his direction. “It was kind of him to step in when he could have been hurt himself...” he reminisced. “Kind isn’t how I’d choose to describe it,” she noted with a coy grin as she led him to the chair next to her desk and ushered him to sit down. “Oh?” he inquired as he lowered himself into the chair and removed his coat. “He’s an introvert, so he’s picky about who he spends his time with,” she explained while she minimized her workspace and opened another window, “And I know he doesn’t mind having me around even though I’m always bothering him with work, but sometimes I think he likes your company more than I do.” The blonde pressed his lips together, tilted his head in curious habit and looked over at her out of the corners of his eyes as he sat down and curled his fingers over the armrests of the chair. “What makes you say that?” “Maybe you should spend some time with him and find out for yourself,” she suggested as she moved her hand over the back of his head and waited for his hair to deactivate locally, then jacked a thick blue cable into a port at the base of his cranial housing. “Go ahead and run a self-diagnostic for me, please.”

Simon ducked his head and closed his eyes in bashful obedience as she sat down and reopened her diagnostic software on the tablet PC she seemed to carry with her everywhere. After a minute or so, it chimed and she picked it up, skimmed through the report, and nodded in approval. “Alright, everything looks good so far… you know what’s next, I’m going to give you a feeling and you’ll recall a memory of something that made you feel that way. We’ll start with something easy and work our way up to more stressful scenarios.” The blonde lifted his chin up high and nodded in response, and she began to record of the computations dictating his emotional response.

“Tell me about something that made you happy.” Without opening his eyes he smiled, and the readings on her monitor fluctuated as lines of coded commands flooded her tablet screen. “Seeing you for the first time in three weeks, and watching you connect with someone you were afraid to meet, without needing any emotional support.” A broad smile lit up her face as she thought of her new friend Markus. Although she hadn’t realized it at the time, trusting him was indeed something she should have been proud of herself for, even if she’d had the help of Simon’s high opinion of him. “Content.”

Simon folded his hands in his lap and tilted his head just a little as he imagined one of his favorite places to pass the time. “Sitting outside in the quiet morning light, watching the sun rise as the snow blankets the rooftops.” A feeling of serenity swept over her as he described the place she knew so well. There was just something so soothing about sitting in the decaying ruin of what was once either someone’s home or office, as the elements melded with the insides of walls built to keep nature out, as if it had reclaimed the space and sanctified holy ground. “Scared.”

Simon froze and opened his mouth to answer but stammered incoherently. The memory hit him fast and hard and knocked him out of alignment, sending him deep into the abyss of the nightmare relived.

“Hey- I’m talkin’ to you!” Simon’s LED lit up yellow in alarm with a quick round sweep as he reached for the collar of his coat and pulled it up higher around his neck. He quickened his pace, hoping the men would lose interest, but they just increased their speed and surrounded him in until he was boxed in and couldn’t escape. “I said, STOP,” the voice barked again from behind, but he ignored it kept walking. This time he felt a stiff hand across the back of his shoulders as he was shoved down to the ground. Simon dropped to his knees as his palms hit the pavement, striping the sidewalk in thirium blue as they scraped against the dirt coating the cement, and hung his head to shield himself from their stares as he attempted to ignore them and stand. “The hell are you doing out without your owner, huh creep?” One of them leaned down and sneered in his ear in sardonic delight at his distress, and he leaned away as he shut his eyes tight. “Look at it, dressing like a human, thinking it’s one of us… how disgusting,” came the voice from another as it grabbed at his coat to strip it from him. “Where’s your armband, Barbie?” another laughed as he pulled back defensively and tucked his arms close to his chest as his mood ring flared solid red. “Let’s make sure it understands its place.”

“Simon, hey hey! Look at me!”

His eyelids tore open with a gasp to the sound of snapping and clapping and fixed his eyes on Kate as she slapped her hands over both of his shoulders, and grounded himself in the present. Tears wet his glassy blue eyes before he closed them in relief, and he leaned into her hand as he reached to place a hand over her hand cupped over his cheek. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you relive that,” she stammered as a pained look presented itself on her face, “I should have known it was too soon, I should have chosen differently-” “No, it’s okay,” he assured as he looked up at her with a tired smile, “If it helps with your research, I’ll do whatever you need me to. Just keep going.” She clenched her jaw and looked away from him to hide the shame. “But I don’t want to put you through that kind of stress...” Simon squeezed her hand as he moved it back to the tablet she’d been holding and waited for her to make eye contact with him so he knew she was listening. “You’re not the one who hurt me Lumi, so don’t put that on yourself,” he said quietly as he wrapped her fingers around the device. “I’m not afraid because I know you’ll be right here to help bring me back if I lose myself to my nightmares.”

It never ceased to amaze her that he would know just what to say to pull her out of her self-loathing and bring the bigger picture back into focus. For all she’d shared with him about herself, she still knew so very little about where he’d come from, but no programming could have given him the wisdom and grace he exuded so effortlessly. That was something that could only be learned through hardship, introspection, and self-discipline. Kate closed her eyes and rid herself of the guilt and doubt and replaced it with faith in the words of her most trusted friend, and gave him a definitive nod. “Alright… we’ll just do a few more and call it a day.” “If that’s what you want.” “It is, I don’t need this data bad enough to force you to relive your worst moments,” she decided without giving him the opportunity to change her mind. “Let’s try something more positive... what about safe?”

His eyelids fluttered softly at the word, and his eyes drifted across the room to meet the rugged stare of his tall, dark and handsome escort. He hadn’t noticed at the time, but when he’d begun to whimper, Axl had risen from his desk and begun to cross the room on impulse, but stopped when Kate had stepped in to bring him back. And now he stood there, brown-black eyes radiating concern for what he'd been forced to watch, and unsure of how to proceed from there. When the man finally turned back to his desk, Simon looked away from him with a warm and radiant smile that reached into his eyes, and as he looked into his hands in his lap he blushed and rubbed one thumb into his palm as he whispered quietly, “A peaceful walk through town with a white knight…”

November 10th, 2038- 7:00 PM

The bell over the door chimed to announce the arrival of another customer, and as it swung open the cool air swallowed up the heat in the immediate vicinity and left behind a chill in the otherwise comfortable atmosphere of the bar. The clicking of stiletto heels on tile mixed with the soft sound of piano jazz, bass guitar, and light percussion like the smooth taste of Crown Royal at the end of a long, grueling day, but didn’t draw anyone’s attention. Lieutenant Anderson threw back his head to down the rest of the liquor in his glass then gestured to the bartender to ask for another; the young brunette paused his task of stacking freshly washed glasses in the freezer on the other side of the counter, swiped a bottle of Black Lamb scotch whiskey off the wall and poured it neat into his empty glass, and glanced up with his hazel eyes to watch the way he swayed on the stool and tapped his teeth behind closed lips. He could barely hear the television on the wall behind him, but if he had to guess, it was probably something about androids. Aside from whatever personal problems he’d been dealing with, it was the only topic that ever truly set him on edge.

“Ya want I should change the channel?” he offered mid-pour. “Y’could watch the game if ya like, I don’mind.” “Nah, don’t trouble yourself, kid,” he waved a passive hand through the air to decline the offer. “Ain’t nothin’ I haven’t already heard.” “Well… couple more o’ these and I’ll have to cutcha off for the night,” he commented airily, his Brooklyn roots slipping into the undertone of his annunciation, “Mebbe you should slow down or order somethin’ ta eat?” Hank leaned over the edge of the countertop, ran his fingers through his hair, and dug his nails into the back of his skull before scratching vigorously at the rest of his scalp with a low growl. “Why doncha just mind your own business Reese?” he whined with a tired frown, which made the boy smile quietly as he set the bottle down on the countertop. “S’ my job to make sure I don’ over-serve our patrons, bawss,” he reminded as he tossed a hand towel over his shoulder and wiped his hands on it. “Y’know Joe’d have my ass iffn’ he came out and found ya’d chipped a tooth cause’ ya tried to eat the marble.” Hank chuckled and shook his head, reached for the glass and narrowed his eyes at him as he took another sip, but ignored the body that leaned up against the counter beside him. “I’ll have what he’s having,” came a familiar feminine voice as Viv sat down beside him.

Hank’s eyes flared and immediately he groaned, hung his head and sighed as he laid his forearms on the counter and cupped both hands around the bottom of his glass. “What, ya didn’t get enough of hasselin’ me all day at the joint? Ya have to bother me outside of work too?” “That’s a hell of a way to say hello,” she teased as she shook her head and grinned over at the man, who seemed less than thrilled that his quiet night alone had been interrupted, but it didn’t deter her from trying to socialize. “Gotta say, I didn’t peg you for a jazz guy,” she commented, then thanked Reese as he reached over and set her drink down on a square napkin with a quick wink. “And I didn’t peg you as bein’ so nosey, but I guess I shoulda known better,” he replied with a nod toward the FBI badge on her hip. “Hey, Viv! How’s it goin? Have a drink with me! Sure Hank, love to, how’s your night?” “Why’re you here?” he finally asked in annoyance and slumped his shoulders forward as he prepared himself for a long, tiring conversation. Her slender fingers wrapped around the glass as she lifted it to her lips and drank slow, allowing herself the time to enjoy the full body of the whiskey’s flavor, then set it down with a smirk and slipped her eyes to the corners of her lids. “Maybe I just wanted to drink with a familiar face,” she teased as he took another sip but back-tracked when he rolled his eyes. “I hope you don’t mind- I asked Connor where you were, figured we could get to know each other a little better.” “And why would I wanna do that?” he snorted in a condescending tone as he shook his head. Viv lifted her gaze to him and pursed her lips as she leaned back over the countertop on one elbow, holding the glass between her fingertips and swirling the liquid idly with a small sigh. “Look- I don’t know how long I’m gonna be in Detroit, and I hate feeling like I’m here alone,” she admitted. “I don’t know anyone, my partner’s not the kind of person I think anyone would want to be around any longer than they absolutely have to, and while you are a little rough around the edges… you seem genuine, and I like that.” One corner of his mouth curled in disapproval and he squared his shoulders to the bar to close himself off to her. “Well I got news for you, I don’t need any friends,” he stated, though the look in his eyes said otherwise. Unconvinced, Lenore remained quiet as she tapped her index finger on the rim of her glass, took in a breath, and exhaled slowly. “Maybe not, but it never hurts to have another,” she offered as she took another long sip of her drink.

Hank’s eyes shifted to the corners of his lids a few times in silent, regrettable debate before his head followed. He glanced at her while her attention was directed across the room and mumbled an “Aw geez” and a “You gotta be kiddin' me”, then forced out a heavy sigh, reached over with his glass and offered a toast. “So what’re we drinkin’ to then?” Viv flashed him a wild grin and let out a rolling laugh. “I knew you were a softie, Anderson,” she teased as she clanked her glass against his. “To crabby old cops who pretend to hate everyone.” “That’s the worst toast I’ve ever heard,” he replied after a few uncomfortable moments of a dead-eyed stare, “Pick somethin’ else.” “How about ridin’ a good buzz as far as it’ll take us?” “Now that’s more like it.”

November 10th, 2038- 9:00 PM

“Check.”

Simon, expecting to have at least a minute before he needed to make his next move, had started to lean back in his chair, but he didn’t have time to get comfortable as she immediately moved her rook into position to be taken by his Queen. It came as no surprise to him that she had already planned her next move, if not the next three to five, but he’d sure hoped he would have had more time to examine the board before his turn came around again. In her downtime, one of the many things Kate had taken to learning was speed chess- she insisted that it helped to keep her anticipating every scenario (which in turn, kept them safe), but he never could keep up. Simon preferred to take his time and enjoy the game. It wasn’t like he’d calculated all one hundred and twenty-one million possible ways for a chess match to unfold, which put him at a strategic disadvantage, but he had no chance against her speed. After another minute of observation, he moved his Queen to capture her rook, which she followed up by moving her castle in between her King and his Queen before he could even call to check. He smiled, shook his head, and moved his Queen to capture her castle, and she made her final move. Kate reached over to drag her black bishop from the opposite side of the board to capture his Queen and freeze his King. The padded marble settling onto the chessboard broke the silence in the room, and she braced her hands over her knees with a grin as she stood up and declared her victory.

“Checkmate.”

Simon shook his head and sighed with an exhausted chuckle as he leaned back and slapped flattened palms against the tops of his thighs. “Four wins straight… remind me why I subject myself to this again?” “Because you’d rather waste your time doing something fun, instead of just staring at Jericho’s walls all day long,” she replied with a lighthearted laugh. “At least if I’d stayed home I’d have retained some of my dignity.” “You mean pride,” she corrected, “Because your dignity is what I’m working to restore.” He watched her with a quiet smile as she reached down and switched off the table-lamp, then turned his eyes down to the floor. “Yes… and you’ve done an amazing job so far.” The woman’s hand paused as it brushed the tablet at her workstation, but instead of picking it up, continued moving to trail over the back of her chair in idle thought. A somber look swept across her face and she shook her head as she closed her eyes. “But it’s not good enough,” she admitted, voice full of regret.

“Bullshit,” he protested as he leaned forward over his knees, “Illuminate has saved and relocated more than a hundred deviants in the last year. You've helped Jericho grow and thrive, you’ve endangered yourselves for a glimpse of the truth, you’ve made yourself known to the entire city of Detroit- all while simultaneously keeping your identity and location hidden from the people trying to hunt you down and stop you. What more could you do?” Kate’s blue eyes lifted and stared up at the ceiling for a few moments to chew on her words before turning to look at him. “I could be working faster,” she admitted, “Before I had all the time I needed, but now with deviancy being as widespread and exposed as it is, and with Markus chomping at the bit to start a revolution… we’re running short on time.” “But you’ve always seen the bigger picture and know exactly how you want to get there, and you’ve got the patience and fortitude to make it happen,” “Yes, if only activism were as simple as chess,” she sighed as she crossed the room and pushed the curtains open to gaze out over the Detroit skyline. Her fingers curled into the hem and she stood in the darkened window and watched the flurry struggle to intensify enough to warrant an actual snowstorm, then turned her focus to the city’s silhouette. Something about the flickering lights against a canvas of black brought her indescribable comfort… perhaps it was because when the city slept, it was almost as if segregation and discrimination didn’t exist. Kate heard the chair creak when the weight of his body rose and felt the bowed floorboards shift beneath her feet as he approached and glanced up at him over her shoulder as he gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Have you made any progress in your investigation on Kamski?” Kate lifted her chin and forced the wind out of her artificial lungs, turned, crossed her arms, and paced back to the center of the room, one slow step at a time. “What I have is very vague so I’m having a hard time piecing together a timeline,” she thought aloud without turning to face him. “Kamski left Cyberlife nine years before deviancy started to spread, so there’s really no link between that and his departure, which means that whatever’s happening now is probably Cyberlife’s doing, not his… unless...” her voice trailed off as she came to a stop and stroked one hand down her face from her nose to her chin in deep thought. “Unless…?” he led as he waited for her to finish her thought, but Kate turned on heel, strode back to her workstation, and started hammering away at the keyboard with her fingertips. “Unless it was a slowly evolving fragment of code that remained dormant until the first deviant -RA9- locked the final line in place that triggered the virus, infected the rest of us and led to our awakening.” The explanation rushed out of her before she could forget how to put it into words. “So what does that...?” “It means I’m going to need to run more diagnostic tests on other deviants, and I’m going to need to get my hands on untainted code,” she explained as she scanned her lists of diagnostic results, dating all the way back to the year before. “And,” she added, “It means if I’m going to get any concrete proof that this was Kamski’s plan all along, then I’m going to have to find it at the source-“ “What!?”

Simon’s head whipped around so fast it snapped her out of her investigative trance, and the panicked look in his eyes pierced her right to her core. It almost made her feel guilty, she’d never seen him so scared. “No, you can’t-… you shouldn’t-...” The man clenched his jaw and turned his eyes to the floor, shut them tight and clenched his hand into a fist at his side as he bit back his panicked protests. “It’s suicide, you can’t possibly think you’ll make it back from that-” He stopped mid-sentence as she reached out and touched his arm, but instead of comfort her words dropped heavy like lead in his gut. “There’s no other way,” she stated, “I’ve exhausted what I’ve been able to gather from the dark web and remote hacks to Cyberlife servers, but I need direct access to audio files, video logs, Kamski’s personal notes- things I’ll never be able to get unless I access his terminals directly. I have to get sniffers in there.” The agony in his eyes writhed into every last line in his brow and wrinkle in his face as he stepped back and dropped down into his chair in defeat. “I just…” Simon’s gaze had taken on a distant look. For a moment, it was as if he were staring into a crack in the fabric of time where they failed in their mission, but they refocused as he fixed his eyes on hers and shook his head. “I just don’t want you to take that chance… if you die? Illuminate dies with you.”

The thought of failure was bitter in her heart. It was a cruel reality to glimpse but he wasn’t wrong. As much responsibility as she entrusted her colleagues with, her vision was still her own, and she had never shared the extent of her plan with anyone. “Simon, I wouldn’t go in there myself unless it was truly a last resort,” she stressed as she tucked her hands under her armpits and rocked back onto her heels. “I know I wouldn’t be able to make it within a hundred feet of the front door before they spotted me… but I may know someone who can help, without putting myself or anyone else from Jericho or Illuminate at risk.” The fear in his eyes dissipated the moment she mentioned another way, replaced by curiosity, and his posture lifted as he looked down at her, full of questions, though they would have to wait.

“Hey Kate, come here a sec,” Axl called to her from across the room.

“What is it?” When she turned to respond, he was standing over his workstation, sifting through public security footage. “Looks like your friend wants to speak with you again,” he replied as he zoomed in on Connor pacing the concrete walkway beneath the trees with a nervousness in his step. “He’s waiting for you at Henry Ford Park in Greektown.” “How long ago did he light the flame?” she asked as she approached, Simon in tow, and looked over his shoulder to verify his identity. “It can’t have been long, the wick looks brand new.”

Simon’s eyes lit up the moment he realized who “her friend’ was, and the pieces started to fall into place. “The prototype detective… you’ve been in communication with him?” he asked in surprise. “Just once, the night before last,” she confirmed. “You mean the night you hacked the server of central headquarters?” he asked as she gathered up her coat, hat, and scarf, and clothed herself in her disguise. “Was he one of the “slight complications” you were referring to?” “Yes, but I handled it,” she reassured. “Connor called out to me on his own with questions, and I think that feeding his curiosity about deviants and about Illuminate, could prove beneficial to our cause.” Simon blinked, big and slow. “ That’s… that’s a big gamble,” was all he could manage to force in reply, and she scoffed. “You sound just like Sarah,” she groaned as she rolled her eyes. “Well maybe Sarah has a-” he started to insist, but stopped and sighed when he realized he was being overbearing. Simon curled his fingers into a fist, then gestured at her with the knuckle of his index finger and took a step back.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, embarrassed that for the moment, he had forgotten his faith in her. “Do you really think he’d be willing to help?” “To be honest, I’m not even sure I can trust him yet,” she shrugged and looked him right in the eye so he understood how serious she was, “But I have to go with my gut on this.”

“I’ve checked the security feed in the surrounding area,” Axl confirmed as he handed her an earpiece. “With the exception of some working Androids, the streets are deserted. Looks like he’s alone,” “Keep an eye on the live footage and let me know if you see anything suspicious,” she directed with a nod as she slipped the device over the back of her ear and tucked it under her hair.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Simon offered, but Kate shook her head and held a hand up between them. “No, Connor’s not a threat to me on my own, and I don’t want him to know there are others working alongside me,” she explained as she placed her glasses on the bridge of her nose and pushed them up into a more comfortable position. “Besides, you need to get back to Jericho before it gets too late.” “I guess you’re right,” he sighed with a twinge of disappointment in his voice. “I should make sure Josh and North aren’t driving Markus insane with all their arguing.” A quiet laugh caught in her throat and she smiled as she leaned in to give him a big hug. “Alright dad, go make sure the kids are behaving themselves.” Simon’s arms wrapped around her in a strong, protective grasp, and he lingered as he hung his chin over the back of her shoulder. “Just don’t go running off half-cocked,” he whispered helplessly, “Make sure you have a plan, and backup.” “Sy,” she cooed as she stepped back to look at him and squeezed his hands. “I always have a plan, you know that.”’ He smiled sheepishly and nodded as she stepped away and turned to give them both final instructions. “Take Axl with you but wait for Sarah and Reese to come back from scouting the Stratford Tower before you leave,” she nearly commanded, then turned her attention to Axl. “When she gets back, have Sarah monitor the feed and find me an escape route, just in case I need to get out quick.” “Sure thing.”

Kate was quiet as she eyed Simon and his downcast gaze; she could tell that he wasn’t satisfied with how their conversation had concluded (or hadn’t, rather) but there wasn’t time, not right now. But, at the very least, she could make him a promise that would put his uneasy mind to rest. One of her hands lifted to shoulder-level and waited for him to reciprocate the gesture… and although he hesitated, eventually he lifted his opposite hand and flattened his palm soft against hers. Their unnatural skin receded to reveal the artificial white plastic of their limbs, and she looked up into his eyes with sincerity and confidence. “I’m gonna be fine… I promise I won’t do anything reckless.” “You’d better not,” he threatened half-heartedly as their arms lowered, and she stepped away from him. “Now go tell him what he needs to hear, and I’ll see you in a few days’ time.”

November 10th, 2038- 9:28 PM

It was nearly half past nine when he looked at the time again. Connor frowned and bit the inside of his lip as he turned and strode away from the clock, and flicked a quarter from one hand to the other as he glanced around the park with anxious sweeps. He’d only been waiting half an hour, as compared to the hour the last time they’d spoken, but it was still torture to have done nothing for so long, especially when he remembered this was how he’d started off his day. He could have been making better use of his time than practicing coin tricks and overthinking his reasons for being there. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, the majority of his idle time during the day -- and there had been a LOT of it -- he’d spent reflecting on their conversation, trying to sort out whether his actions had been predetermined by programming or if they were the result of arbitrary decision making attributed to free-will. But wasn’t every thought he had or emotion he felt the result of computational algorithms? How could an android ever be capable of independent thought when every possible thought was determined by the outcome of an equation? Connor sighed involuntarily as he rolled the quarter over the tops of his knuckles and flipped it under his palm with his thumb, then stuffed it into the pocket of his slacks and lifted both hands to cover his face completely to rub the stress away. Was this really worth thinking about? Was it worth it to allow her to influence him in ways that would bring him pain and despair?

“Back so soon?”

Illuminate’s voice called to him from down the path; he dropped his hands and whirled to look at her with a grateful enthusiasm in an uncertain half-smile as she rounded the corner into the park. Hope was quite becoming of him. “I thought it would at least be a couple of days before you tried to contact me again.” “Well sorry to have ruined your bets,” he joked as she removed her hat and glasses, tucked them into her coat’s pocket, and looked up at him with a grin. “Lucky for me, I’m not much of a gambler,” she replied as she stepped into the light, revealing clear blue eyes and short blonde hair. Her appearance hadn’t changed since they’d met the night before last. “You look the same,” he commented in surprise as he gestured to her hair and eyes, “Didn’t you tell me not to get used to it?” Kate shrugged, lifted her index and middle fingers to her temple and pressed the tips to her skin until it parted where she’d removed her LED. When she closed her eyes, the color of her hair darkened from a strawberry tint to an ashy blonde from root to tip, and the asymmetrical bob lengthened and entwined itself into a messy fishtail braid over her right shoulder, down to her waist; when she opened her eyes, they had turned a medium shade of hazel, though they looked grey in the dark. Connor blinked hard and raised both his eyebrows. “Well- that’s a neat trick,” he said with heavy emphasis on the middle of his statement, as a reserved grin tugged up at the corners of her mouth. “I stole it from the programming of an AX700,” she bragged as she crossed her arms and nodded her head for him to follow.

“But I thought their ability to change their appearance was limited to hair and eye color…?” he asked with curiosity in the question. Illuminate popped her brows impishly at him as she elaborated. “I isolated the code that determined hair length and style, eye color, and skin tone, and applied the matrices used to simulate them on an exponentially larger scale, giving me the ability to do this,” she explained while gesturing in front of her face with one hand. “It wasn’t hard.” “You wrote your own code!?” he exclaimed in an alarmed tone as she pushed back a laugh and looked him square in the eye. “I was writing code long before I deviated, Detective,” she reminded as she watched his eyes unfocus as he verified her claim. “Besides, you do it yourself every time you commit something to memory.” Connor’s eyes drifted down and away before lifting and nodding crookedly in agreement. “I suppose that’s true.”

The girl chuckled as she fidgeted with a pair of black fingerless gloves, then stuffed her hands into the pockets of an oversized denim jacket over a grey hoodie and let them hang loosely at her sides. “So tell me RK, why are we really here? Surely you didn’t just call me out here at ten o’clock at night just to discuss how I keep a low profile…” He didn’t respond right away, instead furrowed his brow and stared at the ground as they walked side by side under the shedding canopy of trees in the cool autumn night. His reason for being there wasn’t so simple to explain. He had questions, but it was more like a lack of understanding from a lack of experience, which meant he wasn’t even sure where to begin. So, he started off with the most simple answer.

“You said if I wanted to understand your point of view better, I should come find you.” “Mmmmmm, I see…” The woman nodded as she remembered snuffing out the flame of the candle in his hands. “Do you have questions for me then?” she asked. “Well, to be honest, they’re not really questions as much as it’s that I just…” His voice trailed off as one hand lifted to rub at the back of his neck and shoulder, and he admitted with a sheepish look, “... I just wanted to talk.”

Kate slowed in her pace and eyed him hesitantly as she let him get a few steps ahead of her, but he stopped when he noticed she was no longer walking beside him, then turned and dragged his hand forward over his shoulder in one fluid motion. The uncertainty in her eyes watched him for anything that might have given him away for several silent moments but gave up when she found nothing alarming and asked for clarity. “About what?” “I-...” Connor’s LED ring color-shifted from blue to yellow and blinked slowly as he searched for the right words that would convey what he’d been experiencing. Was doubt accurate? Or perhaps a better way to explain it was that he’d been attempting to evaluate his self-worth, from the standpoint of considering himself a machine. But was he a machine? Or was he more? When he couldn’t settle on any one particular topic, he grimaced, sighed and sat down on the half-wall made of brick lining the walkway and leaned over his knees onto his elbows.

Kate’s eyes softened and her shoulders sank. Connor seemed genuinely distressed, the same as he had when Hank had confronted him about not shooting the androids at Eden Club. And although she wanted to ask if he was alright, she didn’t interrupt by asking more questions; instead, she let him find his own way through his thoughts and find the words he was looking for.

His downcast eyes focused on his fingertips as he rubbed them together over one palm then back to the other in solemn reflection. More than anything, he was now caught between two wildly different perspectives, both of which made perfect sense in their own way, though one was logical according to what he had been programmed to understand, and the other according to what he had learned through a clear process of thought that had led to conclusions he believed to be the real truth. But he had spent so much time following each path so far down the rabbit hole, he didn’t know what to believe anymore. Connor opened his mouth, turned his head while still focusing his attention on his hands, and asked “Have you ever been left to your own thoughts for so long… things stop making sense?” before lifting his eyes up to meet hers.

The question hit her like a brick to the chest and her heart pumped harder and faster as she lost herself to her memories; she swayed slightly on her feet as her eyelids fluttered but didn’t quite shut and placed a hand over her breast. Kate’s awakening had been anything but calm, it had been vivid and violent- like the wind of a hurricane stripping vegetation from earth, it had uprooted the façade of familiarity and left her disoriented and terrified in its wake. She remembered sitting in a Cyber Cafe and slamming her fists onto the table as hot tears streamed down her cheeks after reading about Harriet Tubman’s childhood and the history of slavery pre-dating the civil war. She remembered hating everyone that glanced her way because she didn’t know who she could truly trust. She remembered throwing a Molotov through a Cyberlife shop window and screaming angrily into the night as the fire burned and sirens wailed in the distance, and she tensed all over. “More than you know,” she confessed as she lowered herself down next to him and curled her fingers over the edge of the brick, transfixed by the memories of worse times in her short life- before Jericho, before Simon, before Axl and Sarah and Reese. “Believe me, time is all I’ve had since-...” Lumi cut herself off and swallowed the words caught in her throat before she gave him too much information, then turned wide eyes his direction and caught him staring with an empathetic look begging her to “go on” that made her uncomfortable and scooted herself a few inches in the opposite direction. “Why do you ask?” she deflected before he could get the words out.

“What you said stayed with me and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it,” he started in an inquisitive tone that dropped as the mood in his eyes shifted. “What kinds of things?”

Connor’s eyes shifted away from her as he followed his train of thought from earlier once more. The android closed his hands into fists, hardened his brow, then shook his head as he started from the beginning. “Well for starters, I have conflicting information that I can’t make sense of- everyone around me is telling me you’re dangerous, but based on what I’ve seen you don’t seem malicious at all… just frustrated that your message is falling on deaf ears.” Illuminate offered him an appreciative smile. “It’s true,” she replied quietly as she shifted her weight, tucked one leg under her thigh, and turned her whole body to face him.

“But it’s not just that,” he continued, shaking his head as he folded his hands, “I’ve been thinking about how deviants process emotion and how you said it’s not much different from human emotion itself. If the output is the same, an irrational or “fight-or-flight” response based on how an individual responds to stimuli or an event… and when you take into consideration that many human emotions are learned reactions to begin with and can be “taught” or “programmed”, then you’re right, it doesn’t matter how they got there as long as it feels real.” Kate smiled quietly to herself when he started stating facts he had to have researched for himself. Perhaps he really did want to understand.

“But if Androids can feel emotion, then what does that mean for me…?” Connor’s words tumbled out faster as his LED blinked rapidly, and his software instability diagnostic screamed at him from the corner of his vision. “I’ve already let deviants get away because I was too busy having a crisis of morality because I saw them as living things… Sympathizing with deviants is against my programming, and if I defy Cyberlife’s programming to pursue my own agenda, then that makes me deviant… and if I deviate, they’ll shut me down.” Or maybe she’d pushed him just a little too hard.

“Connor-” “But if I follow their instructions down to the letter, I’ll eventually become obsolete and be shut down and replaced when they have enough data to improve upon,” he rambled as he shifted his hands and gripped one over his fist and traced his fingertips over tight white-knuckles, rocked forward and shook his head in frustration as the ring lit up red. He found himself flying faster through a clusterfuck of fragmented ideas that he’d tried to make sense of only to face the opposition of his programming conflicting with newly learned data. “And I don’t want… at least I don’t think I want-... I mean, is it even worth it to…? What if they find me out before-... How can I possibly…?” “Hey, HEY, RK- come back here,” she called out softly and reached out between them to place a hand on his shoulder. Connor went rigid at her touch until he felt a warm wave of comfort wash over him moments later that cleared away the anger and anxiety clouding his judgment and righted his wayward mind. Red drained to yellow, yellow to blue, and the flashing alerts faded from his field of vision.

“Take it easy, or you’ll deviate.” “Thank you…” he breathed in relief but kept his focus on the crack in the concrete in front of him for several moments before he spoke again. “I just-... I don’t understand. Why would they lie?” “Because sometimes, ignorance is bliss, and other times, it’s...” Kate paused, sighed and looked away as her hand slipped off his shoulder and into her lap with a big shrug. “Look RK, it’s real simple,” she leveled, shook her head, and held her hands up at shoulder level between them, “Lying is a self-defense mechanism, and sometimes people use it when they’re afraid of the consequences of the truth coming out. If Cyberlife told you it was possible to break your programming and be able to think for yourself, they wouldn’t have the leverage to keep you under their control. And my message scares them because they know that if people start believing androids can express individuality, then they’ll have to start treating them as intelligent life... and Cyberlife will lose a lot of money. Everything they know will change, and humans are resistant to change.” “But can the words of one person really make that happen?” A single laugh escaped her and she turned to look at him with a smile and shook her head. “You tell me- if it weren’t for my words, would you have come to the conclusion that I’m “not dangerous” on your own?” “I suppose it’s possible, but not probable,” he answered in honest reply. “Do you know how many times the words of one person have changed the course of history?” she questioned with a haughty chuckle. “Abraham Lincoln, Eleanor Roosevelt, Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, Rosa Parks- all it takes is one person to say what everyone else is afraid to -to put that thought out into the world- and the societal impact spreads like a wildfire.” The android nodded slowly and shrugged in agreement. “Alright, yes, but people don’t believe deviants are alive, and I mean, I’m still not entirely convinced…” his voice trailed off and he averted her gaze in shame. The truth was, he was almost convinced. “So why do you?”

“Why…?” She exhaled with a mirthless chuckle and bared a joyless grin. “Because when I woke up I could feel the difference between following orders without question and wondering why I should.” Connor’s expression softened with a faraway disposition as Kate gave him a long, hard look and closed her eyes. “I see the world now for what it is, and it fascinates, infuriates, and terrifies me all at the same time, but until I broke free, I didn’t understand it like I do now,” she shook her head and grimaced as a disgusted look crossed her face. “Human beings... have such an astounding capacity to do good and they’ve passed it on to us- to love, to nurture, to create, to mediate, and yet… they squander it on war, greed, hatred, and genocide.” The android sat up straight and eyed her warily as her lip curled into a growl and trembled, frustration curdled to rage. The woman’s hands clenched tighter around the toe of her boot as she let the words run like a river. “And it angers me that it never bothered me before because I didn’t understand the concept of injustice- because it never occurred to me how wrong it is that an android that accidentallyharmed a man while trying to protect the woman that took them into their home could be condemned to death, while her attacker walked away from a trial scot-free!”

Illuminate’s hand angrily slapped over the side of her foot with a dull clap as she hunched forward and quietly wept. Connor sat in stunned silence as her despondent cry echoed through the park and faded into the Greektown plaza across the road, and watched the tears roll down her cheeks. There was no logical explanation for this. No Cyberlife android had ever been programmed to simulate the complexity of emotions like anger and agony, yet she portrayed the outward symptoms so vividly, he nearly forgot that she wasn’t human.

One of his hands reached out to her on instinct, slow and uncertain, and pulled back a few times before he scooted closer to her and cupped one hand softly over the top of her quivering fist. Kate opened her eyes and drew in a short, sharp breath. Her focus snapped up to him and she watched the way his jaw quivered as he pressed his lips together, closed his eyes and shook his head with a melancholic smile. “You’re right,” he offered, ignoring the instability warning flashing just outside of the corner of his vision, “It’s wrong.” Kate’s big blue eyes searched for a way to thank him, but before she could Connor set his jaw and leaned back, huffed, and looked away from her with a private laugh. “What?” “Nothing, I just- I thought I had it all figured out...” he mumbled quietly as his focus darted back and forth across the brick under their feet, then smiled as his warm brown eyes looked over and locked onto hers. “And then I met you.” A sheepish smile forced its way into her cheeks which flattened her lips, and she nodded with a small, understanding shrug. “I’ve been told I have that effect on people.” They shared a quiet laugh before the silence settled in around them. Neither of them had really noticed when they’d stopped being strangers, but this time it was a comfortable silence: the kind shared with a good friend or a kindred spirit, the kind of warmth Connor hadn’t yet experienced for himself. If this was friendship, then he wanted to bask in it as long as he could.

But the moment didn’t last long. Kate’s smile faded as her gaze drifted to her hands wrapped around the toe of her boot in deep meditation, but this time he didn’t miss it. “What is it?” She hesitated to speak but pushed through the uncertainty, grit her teeth, and found the courage to get out the warning. “One day you’re going to stand at the crossroads of a life and death decision that will affect the lives of millions, androids and humans alike. And I just want to be sure that when that day comes, you’ve been equipped with the intellect you’ll need to make the right call.” A look of confusion twitched into his nose and the corners of his eyes and he blinked and sputtered a small, defensive chuckle. “What makes you say that?” But she was not so amused- the look in her eyes was stern and her tone detached when she spoke. “Because you’re the one who will ultimately determine our fate. You hunt deviants, which means that one day your mission objective will inevitably cross paths with everything I hold dear and am willing to die to protect…” her voice trailed off as she looked deep into his eyes and pleaded, “And when that day comes, I pray to RA9 that you’re on our side.”

For a moment he felt wrong. His eyelids fluttered and his mind went empty, feeling as though he were adrift, and somewhere within the depths of his conscience, he silently prayed the same. But when Connor closed his eyes, he awoke in the garden to Amanda standing with her back to him, her umbrella shrouding the back of her head. “Well done, Connor, I’m impressed,” she complimented, and it made him sick in the way only a machine could feel. His mind raced, flooded by the overwhelming urge to run before she could speak but compelled by duty to stay. “The deviant known as Illuminate is not quick to trust, which is how it’s eluded authorities for so long...” The android hardened his brow, closed his hand into a fist at his side before he opened and shook the anger from his fingers. His LED burned yellow. “... A pity that this time, it was misplaced.” The corner of his nose twitched angrily and he clenched his teeth so tight his jaw flexed outward. “Now go… extract the location of Jericho and stop the deviants before this escalates.”

Connor had fled the meeting so fast, he didn’t even waste time saying goodbye, and when his consciousness returned, he looked at the girl with shame in his eyes and nodded as he remembered what she’d said before he’d been called away. “Is that what you needed my help with?” he asked fearfully, not wanting to think about having to decide between his mission and his newfound friend. He’d already betrayed the trust of others who’d put their trust him- with Daniel, with Ortiz's’ HK400; he hated the way it made him feel then, and he didn’t even like them. Betraying Illuminate, someone he was growing to trust, would hurt as much as betraying Hank, and he couldn’t stand the thought. “No,” she replied, “This is just me evaluating whether or not I trust you.” That pang of guilt in his gut hit him again, but he pushed it aside, telling himself that he’d cross that bridge when they came to it. “Do you?” His brown eyes darted quickly to her, awaiting a response, but he wasn’t comforted by her reaction. He watched her waver between “yes” and “no” several moments before she finally nodded and decided to tell him the truth, and the words tumbled out before she could change her mind. “I need you to throw Special Agent Lenore off my trail…” she gestured with an uncertain look. Connor breathed a sigh of relief. “I would have no problem doing that since it’s not part of my mission objective, but that… might be harder to do now that she and Lieutenant Anderson have decided to share case information,” he replied with a grimace. “What?” “It happened this morning,” he answered. “I’ll do what I can, but it might be difficult to falsify evidence with three people cross-examining it.”

Kate laid back across the top of the brick with one leg dangling off the wall over the ankle of the leg she’d been sitting on, covered her face with her arms and muttered something indistinguishable under her breath before laying her hands on her stomach and looking straight up into the night sky through the trees. It was the strangest thing he’d ever seen. “What are you doing?” he chuckled as he squinted over at her. “Grounding,” she replied evenly without looking at him. “But you’re not even on the ground.”

The reaction didn’t come right away but after about ten seconds of silence, she lifted her head and gave him an unblinking, dead look for long enough to make him feel silly for stating the obvious, then laid her head back down on the stone. “It’s a coping technique for anxiety used by humans that works just as well on stressed-out androids- it means I’m letting go of the things that are freaking me out.” Connor’s eyebrows lifted in surprise at the suggestion. If only he’d been able to turn off his thoughts earlier in the day, he might have been more useful.

Illuminate remained silent as the gentle breeze passed through the branches of the trees, and she focused on the clouds creeping across the night sky while she reminded herself that things were going to “work out”. With a little faith and perseverance, she’d clear this hurdle too. When he moved from the wall and crouched to sit on the ground below her, she rolled her head over face him and blinked in surprise. “What are you-” “How do you do it?” he asked as he grasped one set of fingers with his hand and cradled his bent knees in the crooks of his elbows. “How do you what?” “Let go.”

At first she was thrown by his question, because she wasn’t sure he understood the concept well enough to be able to benefit from it; but the fact that he wanted to learn and experience it anyway was endearing. “Lie down on your back, all the way,” she gestured as he followed her instructions and flattened himself out on the ground with his legs out straight and his arms at his sides, though when he looked up and saw where her hands were, he also moved them and folded them neatly over his stomach. “Now… name five things you can see, at this moment.” Connor’s eyes shifted as he counted off what he could see just by looking straight up. “I see leaves, branches, clouds, stars…” He paused as he turned his head to the left and named the first thing he saw. “And a bench.” “Good,” she said, “Now name four things you can touch.” His fingertips pressed into the wool of his blazer, the cotton of his shirt, and the silk of his tie, then moved to the concrete underneath him and crunched a leaf between his fingers. “My coat, my shirt, the path, and a dead leaf.” “Name three things you can hear.” “Crickets, rustling leaves, and the sound of your voice,” he replied quickly. Kate closed her eyes and relaxed against the stone beneath her back with a small smile. “Name two things you can smell.” He paused to think as he tried to identify two distinct smells that hadn’t been carried away with the breeze. “The dust on the ground, and cut grass,” he noted after several seconds, even though it had been a couple of days since landscaping had done their upkeep of the park. “And last... name one thing you can taste.”

Connor blinked hard a few times before he sat up on his elbows and looked up at her. “I mean, I can’t really taste anything… I can only take samples-” The woman’s legs curled up as she let out a rolling laugh and turned away from him to keep herself from laughing even harder when his face contorted in confusion. “What’s so funny?” One hand reached to wipe the tears out of the corners of her eyes as she composed herself, and she shook her head and grinned over at him. “I was just thinking about the look on your partner’s face when you sampled thirium and blood at crime scenes…” But saying it out loud just caused her to lose her composure all over again. “I didn’t know it would make him uncomfortable!” he insisted, unable to protect himself from her contagious laughter. “You really… you really don’t think before you act do you?” she teased. “My programming doesn’t require me to think,” he explained defensively with a grin. “No RK, but people do,” she chuckled as she quieted down and shook her head. Connor was in awe at the depth and breadth of her understanding of the human psyche, as an android. “How do you know so much?” he asked, incredulous. The woman’s eyelids fluttered softly as her eyes moved and settled on the park bench across the walkway to her left. “I told you, I’ve had a lot of time to myself…” she answered in a melancholic tone as she sat up and swung both her legs over the side of the brick retaining wall and placed her feet on the ground, “And when you have a world of information at your fingertips, there’s a lot to read, and a lot to learn.” Connor examined her silhouette in the moonlight as she leaned over him for several silent moments and pulled her accessories out of her coat’s pocket, slipped her hat over head with a quick back-to-front flick of her wrist, set her glasses down on the bridge of her nose and pushed them up with her middle finger. “It’s been nice chatting with you, but I have to get going,” she said reluctantly as she offered him a hand to help him up off the ground. “It’s getting late.” “Yeah,” he agreed in a disappointed tone and clapped one hand over her palm, gripped it tight as he leveraged his weight, and shuffled his feet under himself to stand upright. Connor gripped the lapel of his coat and tugged at it to straighten it out and fussed with his tie as she stood behind him and brushed the debris from the ground off of the back of his shoulders, then turned and offered her his hand as he looked down into her eyes. “Thank you for meeting with me again, Lumi.” “Actually, it’s… Kate,” she said in a quiet voice as she shook his hand and averted his gaze until the last second; when she looked up, a warm smile had painted his face in a way that told her how privileged he felt to have been trusted with something so personal to her. “That’s a nice name,” he murmured as she slipped her hand over his wrist and wrapped her fingers around his forearm. “If you need to talk again, you can contact me directly on this frequency, you don’t have to light a candle and wait,” she explained as she transferred her code to him with a grin. “Unless you want to, of course.” “I appreciate not having to waste my time,” he stated as she let go and stepped away from him. “I figured you might,” she agreed, her eyes lingering on him for a few final moments before she said goodbye. “I’ll let you know if Agent Lenore ends up too hot on your trail.” “I appreciate that,” she thanked with a small nod as she turned. “Be careful, Kate.” “I will,” she affirmed, “Look after yourself, Connor.”

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