#'and every ten years he could come ashore to be with he-i mean SHE** she who loves him truly'

[anonymousewrites]

Pearl of the Sea Chapter Twenty

Found Family! PoTC Cast x Teen! Reader

Platonic! Will Turner, Elizabeth Swann, Jack Sparrow, Tia Dalma x Reader

Chapter Twenty: Seeing the Dead

Summary: Truths and conflicts emerge as they make their way out of the Locker.

            “Trim that sail! Slack windward brace and sheet!” ordered Barbossa as the Black Pearl prepared to sail (where, they weren’t sure).

            “Haul the pennant line,” said Barbossa and Jack at the same time.

            “What are you doing?” demanded Barbossa.

            “What are you doing?” retorted Jack.

            “No, what are you doing?” Barbossa threw it back at him.

            “What are you? Captain gives orders on this ship,” said Jack.

            “The captain of this ship is giving the orders,” said Barbossa.

            “My ship, makes me captain,” argued Jack.

            “They be my charts,” replied Barbossa.

            “That makes you ‘chartman,’ ” said Jack.

            (Y/N) groaned as they argued and turned to face the sea.

            “(Y/N).”

            They stiffened. “Elizabeth.”

            She swallowed. Not Lizzie. Elizabeth. “(Y/N), you have to know that I did it for—”

            “I don’t care who you did it for,” snapped (Y/N). They whirled on her. “You left Jack to the kraken. You left him to die.”

            “We wouldn’t have survived with Jack. Will—you—wouldn’t have made it. And he’s here now. We’ve rescued him,” said Elizabeth, trying to justify herself and stop (Y/N)’s gaze from being one of such disappointment.

            “You still did it,” said (Y/N). Their hands were balled in fists, and the waves rose and fell with their breaths. “He came back for us to the right thing, and you repaid him with death.”

            They brushed past Elizabeth, unwilling to speak any longer. Elizabeth was left standing on her own.

            She had broken a part of her bond with (Y/N). It would take more than a discussion to fix it.

l

            (Y/N) didn’t leave the side of the ship for the rest of the day. While the sun lowered in the sky and the clouds darkened, (Y/N) just stared at the murky grey waters below them.

            Appropriate, thought (Y/N). That’s how I feel.

            They were startled once they saw bodies in white floating by beneath in the waves. Souls, whispered the sea air, and (Y/N) believed their instinct. They leaned out over the bodies, and their brow creased. They seemed lost, the poor spirits, no afterlife to wash up on.

            “They should be in the care of Davy Jones.” Tia Dalma drifted up next to (Y/N). They barely glanced at her, used to the way she moved like water, light and graceful.

            “I thought he ruled the Locker,” said (Y/N).

            “He does,” said Tia Dalma. “But this is the true duty he was charged with by the goddess, Calypso.”

            Calypso. The very name held power, and (Y/N) could have sworn the waters rushed around the Pearl faster in response.

            “To ferry those who die at sea to the other side,” continue Tia Dalma. “And every ten years him could come ashore to be with her who love him truly.” The history in her words spoke volumes, but (Y/N) felt the heaviness and knew not to ask for more than what she gave. “But the man has become a monster.”

            “So he didn’t fulfill his duty, and the cost was his humanity,” said (Y/N).

            Tia Dalma smiled slightly. “You understand magic well.”

            (Y/N) lowered their gaze to the souls drifting by. “It just made sense.”

            “Perhaps.” Tia Dalma looked at them, and (Y/N) could feel her gaze burning into them. “But you have a talent for magic.”

            (Y/N) felt an itch beneath their skin and ran their hand over their arm to sooth it. “I don’t know what that means.”

            “It means tis in your blood,” said Tia Dalma. “I ‘ave heard from William Turner and Elizabeth Swann that you mights have summon’d a wave against the kraken.”

            “I—I don’t know what that was,” admitted (Y/N). “I just felt a lot, and then the sea was there. It was just…strange.”

            Tia Dalma hummed. “Give me your hand.” She extended her palm, and (Y/N) stared at her. “Go on. I mean no harm to you, child.”

            (Y/N) nodded shortly and put their hand in hers. Tia Dalma turned over their hand and ran a finger down their vein. (Y/N) stared as a slight pearlescent shine followed her finger, disappearing in the darkness.

            Tia Dalma hummed. “As I thought. Magic is in these veins—magic of the sea.”

            (Y/N) pulled their hand away and stared at it. “What does that mean?”

            “It means you’re a Child of the Sea.” Tia Dalma looked at them with that all-knowing glint in her eyes once more. “You escape to the sea. You yearn for it. It is freedom, life. Your heart.”

            “How do you know that?” whispered (Y/N).

            “The sea is my heart. In a different way, but my heart, too,” said Tia Dalma, gazing out at the sea mysteriously.

            (Y/N) frowned. “What does that me—”

            “Boats!” cried Ragetti, clutching onto Pintel.

            The shout broke all focus on tasks. (Y/N) and Tia Dalma turned to see what the others on deck were looking at. In the distance, hundreds of tiny rowboats floated towards them. They bobbed over the spirits suspended beneath the surface of the water. Lanterns sat at the head of each boat and lit their way.

            Gibbs grabbed a rifle, and Tia Dalma stormed towards him. Will lowered its muzzle and shook his head.

            “They’re not a threat to us.” He looked at Tia Dalma. “Am I right?”

            “We’re nothing but ghosts to them,” said Tia Dalma.

            “It’s best just let them be,” said Barbossa.

            (Y/N) gazed sorrowfully at the dead who had no guide to a proper resting place. Children, elderly, men, women—none reacted as they drifted by.

            “It’s my father!”

            Everyone followed Elizabeth’s gaze to a man sitting in one longboat. (Y/N)’s heart broke. Swann was dead. He would never be with them again once they returned to the land of the living.

            “We’ve made it back,” said Elizabeth in relief. “Father, Father, here! Look here!”

            “Elizabeth.” Jack shook his head. “We’re not back.”

            Terrible realization dawned, and she faced him again. “Father!”

            Swann turned his head dreamily. “Elizabeth. Are you dead?”

            Elizabeth shook her head in panic. “No. No.”

            “I think I am,” said Swann hesitantly.

            “No, you can’t be!” cried Elizabeth.

            (Y/N) covered their mouth as the man who helped raise them drifted by towards the Land of the Dead—but he would never find it. Jack steadied them by the shoulders as they watched with horror.

            “There was this chest, you see,” said Swann. “It’s odd. At the time it seemed so important.”

            “Come board!” shouted Elizabeth.

            “And a heart,” continued Swann. “I learned that if you stab the heart, yours must take its place. And you will sail the seas for eternity. The Dutchman must have a captain.”

            If someone killed the heart and Jones, they would take his role. The realization washed over the crew and each person who had considered doing just that.

            “Silly thing to die for,” said Swann.

            “Someone, cast a line!” said Elizabeth desperately. “Come back with us!” She grabbed a rope herself and threw it out. “Take the line!”

            Swann looked up at Elizabeth and smiled. “I’m so proud of you and (Y/N), Elizabeth.”

            “Father, take the line! Take the line!” begged Elizabeth.

            But Swann just smiled as he floated away.

            “Father!”

            (Y/N) ran and hugged their sister tightly as she cried out for Swann.

            “I’ll give love to your mother,” said Swann as he disappeared into the darkness.

            “Please!” cried Elizabeth.

            (Y/N) just held her tighter as Elizabeth broke down and hugged them back. “I’m sorry,” they whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

            Elizabeth just sobbed harder and held (Y/N) tighter. Her last bit of family was in her arms.

l

            Everyone was silent as Elizabeth returned to the deck after (Y/N) had brought her down to rest after seeing her father pass into the afterlife.

            “How are you?” said Will softly.

            She gazed at him with red eyes, evidence of how much she cried for Swann. Will’s eyes softened, and he hugged her.

            “How is (Y/N)?” said Jack. Swann had taken them in as a ward, so although they were not father and child, it was clear he also meant quite a bit to them.

            “We both took a rest,” said Elizabeth. “They’re still sleeping, so I left them as they were.”

            Will nodded. “They deserve it. You do, too.”

            “I want to make sure we can get back to defeat Beckett,” said Elizabeth, narrowing her eyes. She would channel her grief into determination. Beckett would pay for what he’d done.

            “Good,” said Tia Dalma. “He has the power of the seas. We must fight with all we have.” Her gaze darkened. “And we have something that may help.”

            All eyes went to her.

            “What do you mean?” said Will. “If we have a way to fight him, why have you been holding it back?”

            “Because Beckett will want to use it to his advantage,” said Tia Dalma.

            “We’ll make sure that won’t happen.” Barbossa patted his sword handle. “Beckett isn’t getting any more power now that a proper pirate is on the seas.” Jack rolled his eyes.

            “Good. They will need support,” said Tia Dalma.

            “They?” said Elizabeth.

            “(Y/N).”

            Silence.

            “What?” said Will.

            “(Y/N) isn’t a weapon!” said Elizabeth.

            “The lad is a good pirate, but Beckett is formidable,” said Barbossa.

            “This is about what you warned me of, aye?” said Jack.

            Tia Dalma smirked and nodded. “You noticed it?”

            Jack nodded.

            “What is she talking about?” said Will.

            “I told him (Y/N) is a Child of the Sea,” said Tia Dalma. “They have something wild within them. And now it’s free.” She looked at each adult—Will, Elizabeth, Barbossa, and Jack—in turn. “The magic of the sea is theirs.”

            “The wave and the kraken…that was them?” said Elizabeth. She had seen it and thought it significant, but all that had occurred overshadowed the moment.

            Tia Dalma nodded. “They can control the waters.”

            “I thought Jones did,” said Will.

            “He does,” said Tia Dalma. “But so does (Y/N). They are both parts of the ocean.”

            “How? What is a child of the sea? What type of magic can (Y/N) have? They’re just a child,” said Elizabeth.

            “You found them in the sea,” said Tia Dalma.

            “Yes,” said Elizabeth.

            “They were alive, yet they had nothing to keep the above water,” said Tia Dalma.

            “How do you—”

            “I know the sea,” said Tia Dalma, and Barbossa narrowed his eyes. She looked at the adults—(Y/N)’s family. “And I know what (Y/N) is.”

            “A child of the sea, you’ve said it a million times now,” said Jack, waving a hand.

            “They are a nereid,” said Tia Dalma.

            “That sounds Greek,” said Elizabeth, remembering her mythology.

            “All myths are based in truth,” said Tia Dalma. “Nereids are sea spirits, incarnations of the sea. (Y/N) is made of the sea and its magic.”

            “So their magic could help against Jones’s,” said Will.

            “If they can use it, yes,” said Tia Dalma.

            “What if they can’t control it?” said Elizabeth.

            “The sea isn’t about control,” said Tia Dalma, raising her chin. “It is about freedom.”

            “But will the magic hurt them?” said Elizabeth. She wouldn’t let (Y/N) be hurt.

            “No. It wants to be free,” said Tia Dalma. “They will be themself once they let it go.”

            “But you’re worried about them because of Beckett,” said Jack, narrowing his eyes. He wouldn’t let that Lord hurt (Y/N), not after all that he had already done, not to his kid.

            “He wishes to tame the seas. If he knows of what they are, he will see them as a threat,” said Tia Dalma. “He cannot stand what he cannot control, so he will seek to tame them or destroy them.” She smirked. “And (Y/N) is as untamable as the sea.”

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[abouthoundsandlittlebirds]

Can you speak more to your Kirin and Kagura theory? Was Kagura sent to the future by Kirinmaru to protect her? If so, how does Riku know jack shit and think Rin is the mom? Or, if he’s purposefully lying to Towa about Rin being her mom, why would he do that? All I know is Riku looks hella sus whenever he’s with Towa, and especially when he mentions Rin.

Sorry for the late answer, anon, I was gathering information for your question. Surely I will share with you what I've thought so far, knowing that this is only an incomplete theory and not a certainty about what may happen in the future of Hanyo no Yashahime.

Since this post will be long and may contain spoilers I will add a cut, so keep reading if you don't mind it.

Recently I came across a theory that Osamu Kirin is one of Kirinmaru's offsprings, being this the reason why Kirinmaru could see the future through Osamu's eyes. Actually this kind of power was introduced to InuYasha OG show through Kanna's mirror and Byakuya's flying eyeball, allowing Naraku to see what they were seeing. We get to know about Osamu and Kirinmaru's connected view in episode 23 of Hanyo no Yashahime, where Osamu is looking at the sky at an airport rooftop(?) and saw the comet that comes to Earth every 470/500 years (conflicted translations in the videos I've watched). Shortly after this scene is over, we can see Kirinmaru also watching the same comet, even if it is only shown in the Reiwa period at that moment.

When I've first watched episode 22 and 23 of Hanyo no Yashahime I didn't give a second thought about those events, however now I recognize that they are VERY important to the storytelling. That is why episode 22 ended with the airport scene and episode 23 began with the continuation of this same scene.

There are three important things to notice with the airport event: The first is the connection between Osamu Kirin and Kirinmaru that I've mentioned above (and I am not the best choice to talk further about it, since it is a theory that belongs to another person); Second, Osamu Kirin thought that the comet could be seen by humans at the Reiwa Era, since as pointed out by Sota, the notice of the comet approaching the Earth's atmosphere is being spread through humans; and, the third one is that Osamu Kirin was actually waiting for somebody at the airport, since in the end of episode 22 he shows surprise to see the Higurashi family over there and chooses to make a comunication with Sota in order to catch information about Towa’s wellbeing and to do remarks about the comet instead of following his way.

Now, rewatching episode 15 that is when we first knew about the comet, Riku tells Kagome that every 500 years the comet approaches the Earth atmosphere and drops some fragments. Those fragments if not stopped by a powerful demon and by Meido Zangetsuha technic which is the only attack that can be used to definitively stop it (this note was stated by Jaken in episode 15 and is very important and the reason why InuYasha was kept alive, since he is the only one who can hold Tetsusaiga and summon it), will bring the age of destruction to Earth, the exact same thing that the Spirit of the Tree of Ages (also known as Treekyo) says that is going to happen in episode 4, planned by Sesshomaru and Kirinmaru. The first because he abdicated his title as Lord of the West and the second because he saw an opportunity in it to do as he wanted. We can see it through Sesshomaru's choice in InuYasha OG show and in the reaction of Kirinmaru when the comet appears in the Feudal Era soon after Sesshomaru's daughters were born.

Sesshomaru as the first born of Inu no Taisho was supposed to have heinreted the role of his late father as the ruler of the youkais of the West, that is why Toga left Tenseiga with the hidden power of Meidou Zangetsuha to Sesshomaru, which was the most powerful attack that Inu no Taisho had (perhaps because he believed that InuYasha wouldn’t survive many years with Kirinmaru hunting half-demons). However, Sesshomaru only released this power when Kagura died. In the episode 3 of InuYasha - The Final Act, Totosai says to Sesshomaru that something grew where Sesshomaru's heart was lacking, that is why Tenseiga reacted to his change of heart and was now ready to recieve the Meidou Zangetsuha. However, later on The Final Act, Sesshomaru gave this power to the Tetsusaiga, InuYasha's heinreted sword that the first born couldn't held, meaning that he couldn’t summon this power anymore even if he wanted. Even if Bakusaiga is a powerful weapon, only the Meidou Zangetsuha is able to fully erase the comet’s fragments, like we saw in episode 15 of Hanyo no Yashahime when InuYasha and Sesshomaru fought against it and in episode 22 where Toga and Kirinmaru destroyed it themselves in the past.

If we pay attention to Kirinmaru's reaction after the comet was destroyed in episode 15 we can see that he wasn't worried about the fragment being destroyed, even if it was his role alongside to Sesshomaru to make sure that the peace on the Earth should prevail. Yet, his place in that fight was taken by Sesshomaru and Sesshomaru's place was taken by InuYasha. Yet, in episode 23 the reaction of Kirinmaru about the comet fragment in Reiwa Era is quite the opposite, whatsoever. Kirinmaru seemed to be worried and angry to have to face the comet and he imediately went to InuKimi's place to know if the wheel of time moved and he even tried to gossip about the intentions of Sesshomaru with Akuru's pinwheel.

Knowing that Kirinmaru's intentions seems to face the comet himself, he needs Meidou Zangetsuha to destroy it in Reiwa Era. This seems to be the reason why he was kind of frustrated to know that Zero had broken Tenseiga. Since Tenseiga was the previous host of that technic, his intentions could be to return Meidou Zangetsuha to Sesshomaru's “useless weapon”, which means that he could get rid of InuYasha at least. However, with Tenseiga being broken and the comet approaching even more the Earth’s surface, he will have no choice but to spare InuYasha once more, and fight alonside with him.

By his actions, even if he put aside his plans of getting rid of half-demons, Kirinmaru is afraid of the prophecy of the Shikon no Tama about his death being true. That is why even if he thought that the Yashahimes were weak he still fought against them for a second time and killed Setsuna in the process. His problem with those girls is that they have Inu no Taisho's blood. The two Lords used to be pretty amiable with each other before Toga took a human as the mother of his second child, after being aware of the prophecy that a being that is neither human nor demon would kill Kirinmaru. Taking this action as a sign of treason in their alliance, Kirinmaru made Toga his enemy and would've fought against him if Inu no Taisho wasn't severely wounded as we saw in episode 21. Also, the events of this episode related to Toga's death would explain why Kirinmaru doesn't trust too much on Riku anymore, since his offspring couldn't arrive on time to save his enemy/friend's life. Riku must have sensed it too, because he went to Zero's side and openly betrayed his master in episode 24.

This lack of trust was the reason why Osamu Kirin was created. Kirinmaru needed a trustful subject. He didn’t trust too much in the Four Perils or in his sister. That is why he used Riku to deliver the medicinal herbs to Toga. It could be seen as a meanless job, yet the inefficiency of doing it had consequences. Riku now is no longer the first choice of Kirinmaru to do errands, meaning that he is indeed a pirate washed ashore like it was written in his introduction chart in episode 7.

We actually don’t know the reason or how longer Kirinmaru was sleeping before being waken up by Zero. What we know is that he lost his will to return to sleep when he knew that Sesshomaru had half-demons daughters and that InuYasha was alive and fathered a shi-hanyo. Soon after he knew this, Sesshomaru was introduced in his presence and offered help to kill InuYasha (thanks to him his brother’s life was spared).

If I may speculate over here, then my guess would be that Kirinmaru fell asleep after he heard that Sesshomaru was hunting InuYasha in order to obtain Tetsusaiga or when he learned that InuYasha was sealed by Kikyo’s sacred arrow. Kirinmaru doesn’t seem to be concerned about all the half-demons around, only with those who carries Inu no Taisho’s blood. We actually know that Zero was hunting half-demons, that is why Kirinmaru went to sleep and left the hard work for her to do. Even if Zero has no longer her powers, she could still get rid of half-demons, since Riku stated in episode 15 that Kirinmaru and Toga were the most powerful demons around 500 years ago, meaning that their bloodline is pretty exquisite.

Returning to the theory, after InuYasha and Kagome were sealed in the black pearl, Sesshomaru became the guardian of Izayoi’s tear. As said in episode 15 by Hosenki II, the black pearl is the only (actually easiest) way to go to Inu no Taisho’s resting place. Without it, Kirinmaru wouldn’t be able to reach InuYasha any longer and curiously Kirinmaru allowed Sesshomaru to become the pearl’s guardian.

Temporarily it should be a solved problem, but 4 years after Sesshomaru’s twins were born something may have happened that led Kirinmaru to doubt about his decision, being Yotsume a crucial proof of it.

When we first see Yotsume disguised as Sokyu in episode 1 of Hanyo no Yashahime, he tells Towa about a story that he heard ten years ago about a priestess called Kagome that time-travelled across the bone-eating-well located in Tokyo and alongside a half-demon called InuYasha she hunted demons. It could be a meanless information, if in the next scene we didn’t see a flashback of him in his original form watching Kagome, which seems to be at least 5 years earlier than the backstory he got to know, since that scene happened in the day that Root-Head attacked Kaede’s village, way before Moroha were born. Here then we have a mismatched speach. This means that even if Yotsume was watching Kagome that day, he didn’t know about her ability of time-travelling. So when Kagome were sealed with InuYasha in the black pearl, Kirinmaru didn’t know about her, since they were sealed soon after Moroha was born, meaning it must be more than 14 years ago.

The main question at this moment should be what happened in the four years after Kagome and InuYasha were sealed that led Yotsume to gather information about the origin of InuYasha’s wife. We can speculate as much as we want about it, but the main fact is that probably Osamu Kirin only time-travelled to the future ten years ago. But why? And how?

Whatever the reason for it, it is related to the forest fire that threw appart the twins and Rin becoming Zero’s shield. For four years Kirinmaru held back Zero, stopping her desire to kill Sesshomaru’s daughter. This action could be a proof of faith that Kirinmaru gave to Sesshomaru. Yet, this faith was broken and he decided to not give anymore protection to the twins’ life.

In episode 24 Zero tells Kirinmaru that the rainbow pearls are her tears and she is able to find it wherever and whenever she wants. It is a controversial saying, because in episode 15 she knew that the white and yellow pearls were with Sesshomaru’s daughters, yet she lost track of them inside the barrier that Jaken had casted soon as they were born. So at that time she wasn’t looking for the girls. And even if she could sense the presence of her tears, she was only able to see the girls when she learned how to use the spell of watching people’s dream/sleep, and this happened four years later, that is why when Homura set fire to the forest the twins weren’t inside a protective barrier as we see in episode 14, that was because Sesshomaru became Kirinmaru’s trusted subject and planned against his fellow. But how?

My guess is that this treason is connected to the black pearl. Something that we cannot see in naked eyes changed in the relationship of Kirinmaru and Sesshomaru. The first glimpse of doubt that Kirinmaru had about Sesshomaru was when Sesshomaru sealed InuYasha inside the black pearl. He didn’t doubt about Sesshomaru’s loyalty when he knew that he had half-demons daughters because they weren’t allies back then. They forged this alliance after Kirinmaru woke up and Sesshomaru offered help to kill InuYasha. And as it seems, it took four years for the trust to be broken.

At this time I’ll insert my Kagura theory.

After Sesshomaru sealed InuYasha and Kagome inside the black pearl, I believe he gave Kagura the pearl and told her to keep it safe. Izayoi’s tear was the assurance that his family would be safe. Yet, when he sensed that his family was in danger (probably after the fire in the woods) he sent Kagura to the future (probably to look after Towa and keep her safe over there, since he wasn’t surprised to know that Towa was alive) and decided to hide Setsuna among half-demons.

It is a fact that Sesshomaru’s daughters are half-demons (strong ones, to be honest), so Riku and Zero presumed that their mother is human even if she was underage, taking the close relationship Sesshomaru had with Rin. But if we recall episode 99 from InuYasha OG, Koga, that is a wolf demon and lives in a demon’s tribe, didn’t find it strange that Sesshomaru was travelling with the child Rin (that was 7/8 years old back then), and even took her as a love interest of Sesshomaru, showing that he knew little about humans and human x yokai interaction, quite different from those who knew about human life, like we see in episode 41 of InuYasha OG when Kagome, Sango and InuYasha showed horror about Koharu, a 13 years old girl that wanted to marry an 18 years old Miroku. Also, Kagura just like Riku and Osamu is only a puppet, an offspring created by the essence of a demon and the power of the Shikon no Tama. Even if she is said to be a demon, no one knows what kind of creature would be the children she had, specially with her creator being a half-demon himself.

Also, in episode 4 of Hanyo no Yashahime, after the Yashahimes met the Spirit of the Tree of Ages and killed Root-Head, Treekyo confronted Sesshomaru and said that his daughters denied her request and if he leaves Rin behind, the girl would never wake up again. Then he walks away from her and she says that it is also a way and perhaps the best choice. If we take Treekyo’s request to the Yashahimes we will know that the best choice she speaks of is related to stopping Kirinmaru from doing what he is aiming for. This means that after Sesshomaru knew that Towa, Setsuna and Moroha were fine, he dropped Rin in the backstage of his plan. For ten years (or even more) he worried about Rin in her sleeping state, however just when he found out that the girls were fine he changed his mind, meaning that something that was supposed to happen did not. Indeed Sesshomaru is still being protective over Rin, he even stopped his search for Akuru’s pinwheel in the moment he found it, to save Zero and Rin’s life as a consequence of the first rescue. However when she broke Tenseiga he didn’t think twice to kill her again, but still keeping a cold face that was hard to read.

I personally believe that when Sesshomaru gave his back to Rin and Treekyo at the end of episode 4, his plan changed and he then began his search for Akuru’s pinwheel that until then wasn’t a thing he was doing. We know that the pinwheel is connected to the wheel of time, so Sesshomaru’s intention is to change time or, perhaps, travel across time.

As we’ve seen in InuYasha OG show, only Kagome and InuYasha were able to time travel using the bone-eating-well. Back then Kagome had the Shikon no Tama (jewel and later fragments) and InuYasha had the black pearl. Then, in Hanyo no Yashahime only Towa, Setsuna and Moroha were able to time travel through the Tree of Ages and each one had a rainbow pearl. Taking those facts as an example, it wouldn’t be too impossible if only those possessing some kind of jewel/tear would be able to use this ability. The other possibility would be the pinwheel of Akuru and perhaps this is the way used by Osamu Kirin to arrive in the Reiwa Era.

Considering the concern that Kirinmaru had about the Wheel of Times moving and Sesshomaru’s search, probably Kirinmaru is hiding something related to the past/future from everyone else, except Osamu Kirin. And he is afraid of this hidden secret being revealed.

Taking Naraku’s arc as an example and how Sunrise is repeating some backstories of InuYasha OG into Hanyo no Yashahime, it wouldn’t be weird if later on Osamu Kirin is revealed as the incarnation of Kirinmaru’s heart, just like Akago was Naraku’s heart. This would explain why Kirinmaru isn’t afraid to face the Yashahime as he was when he heard about their existence. Definitively he is afraid of the prophecy, but he isn’t being cautelous while facing the girls. He showed more concern about the Wheel of Time changing than fighting the Yashahimes after being backstabbed by Riku in the place where the Inu no Taisho’s blood would be stronger. If we go back to InuYasha OG show, we will see the same kind of reaction in Naraku. He would confidently fight against InuGroup whenever his heart was far away and avoyd as much as he could a confrontation when Akago and/or Onigumo were near.

Using the information of Yotsume and the timeline drawn so far, the travel of Osamu Kirin would match with the information gathered about Kagome’s backstory, giving Kirinmaru the false hope that the future is a safe place for his heart to be, meaning that Osamu left him when Kirinmaru had a confirmation of Sesshomaru’s betrayal, almost 10 years ago.

Now, if we return to the airport scene where we see Osamu Kirin looking at the sky in episode 22, we notice that he watches an airplane land and then he glances at the comet for a short time. Then he gives his back to the sky and starts walking away, imitating five people close to him that too started to move away from the rooftop, when he notices Sota with his daughter, Mei, a few steps far from him. He shows surprise and go to Sota, starting a conversation about Towa’s absense from school (and showing no concern about it) and ending with the comet out loud observation.

For me it is a proof that he was waiting for someone to arrive over there. My guess would be Kagura. Also, when we see Osamu Kirin in the classroom in episode 4, he tells Towa to pay attention to the lesson, otherwise she will miss the context, and then he tells her to read the sentence in page 23 that says: “I am going to visit Kyoto”.

It could’ve been an Easter Egg, because in episode 23 he is actually waiting someone at the airport that probably is coming from Kyoto, because Kyoto is a prefecture located in the Kansai region, and Kansai according to the research I did is located in the West region of Japan, that in the Hanyo no Yashahime is a land that belongs to Sesshomaru (Lord of the West), meaning that the person/creature that is arriving in that airport is somehow connected to Sesshomaru and seeing that Jaken, Rin, Towa and Setsuna are in the Feudal Era and A-Un wouldn’t fit into a plane, it can only be Kagura.

To finish this theory that is already long enough and explain how Kagura and Osamu Kirin are connected, I must speculate even more and say that this connection happened because neither Kagura nor Osamu knew the backstory of each other and they might have taken interest for each other as an equal (two incarnations/demons). Also, probably the forest that Towa said that she grew up in episode 21 is located in the West, that is why Kagura was in that place and visits Tokyo, because Tokyo is where Kaede’s Village is located in the Feudal Era. My guess would be that using Towa’s age as a guide, she is looking for her daughter in high schools. Osamu Kirin being Towa’s teacher could’ve contacted her and is waiting her at the airport since he was the one that summoned Kagura over there. However, I believe that he is using Towa as a bait.

With Kirinmaru watching everything that Osamu is doing/seeing, he is quite aware of the fact that the comet is arriving in the Reiwa Era and also knew how Towa looked like before meeting her in person. Now, knowing that someone in the Reiwa Era that is not her family (the Higurashi) is looking for her, Kirinmaru is curious enough to see who this person could be since she is probably connected to Sesshomaru and if he can’t use her as a bait to hold Sesshomaru back, then he imagines that she is hiding something that would be useful to him.

As I said before, this is only a theory/speculation that I did using the anime info (and my imagination) to elaborate. All the real events I have tagged the place it came from (the episodes number) and gave them my interpretation. Those events without the official reference tagged should not be taken as a reliable source.

I thank you so much anon for this ask, it made me really happy to be able to share my thoughts with you! Again, sorry for my late answer and be free to say whatever you want, it would be a pleasure to answer you back!

P.S.: Sorry for the typos, I don't use Google Translator and my English ain't that good.

[my-makeshift-masquerade]

Riva Remembers

(A cheesy title for a fic I wrote while in the midst of an emotional breakdown, haha… I figured I’d post it on here because people seem to like my artwork of this OC so far. This is my first time writing these characters. Also I am on mobile and super duper tired from the aforementioned breakdown, so please pardon the long post. I have no idea how to put the read more thing on this… Regardless I hope someone enjoys this, I guess.)

“Agent Cruller, it’s me! Raz! I need to talk to you—“

“Sorry, senior staff only!” The old man in the mailroom office replied coldly, turning back to sorting the piles of letters with telekinesis.

“Don’t you know who I am?!” Nick’s voice came from farther into the mailroom, “I’m telling my dad!”

Razputin suddenly got an idea… He raced down to find his mentor standing there, eyes looking off in two separate directions. Another figure he recognized was on the verge of a nervous breakdown right next to him… Actually she looked like she had already been through multiple breakdowns before he even got here.

“Mr. Johnsmith?! Come on! It’s me! N-nick?!” The teen ran pale hands through her short brown hair, “Th-this is terrible! I am dead for sure!”

“Postage stamps…are scratch and sniff…” The pot-bellied man mumbled nonsensically beside her.

“Whoa, whoa, Riva…” The ten year old’s expression softened, “I was the one who found his brainless body… What do you mean you’re dead?”

“N-norma…she… t-told everyone I…”

“She thinks YOU’RE the mole?!” The child was taken aback, slightly angered even, “Why?!”

“I-I don’t know…M-maybe it’s because I didn’t notice the body before you…?” Riva sniffled, “It doesn’t matter… Agent Foresythe is going to have me detained…o-once she hears about this…”

“What?! No way!” He looked at her with determined eyes, “Don’t worry! I have a plan! I am going to get a new brain for Nick’s body, so he can let me into the mailroom office! Once I get there, I will be one step closer to proving you’re innocent!”

“Y-you really think… I-I’m innocent…?” Her tear filled blue eyes looked at him as if confused by his faith in her.

“I know you are!” He nodded, “Hey! Can you watch Ford for me until I get back? Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere!”

“F-ford…?” The other intern’s eyes narrowed at that name, as if she were squinting to see through a thick fog, “Ford…why does… Oh! Ford Cruller, right… He’s one of the psychic 6…” She shook her head, “Sorry, I am just…all over the place… These panic attacks take a lot out of me…”

“It’s all going to be okay.” The younger of the two gently took the other’s hand, waving to Nick before walking up to the office room, “Agent Cruller! This is my friend! She works in the mailroom—!”

“If she isn’t senior staff, that door ain’t openin’!” Ford declared before the boy could finish.

“Oh, I know!” Raz nodded, “This is Riva. She is having a hard time right now, and I don’t want to leave her alone. Maybe you two could talk or something?”

“Eh?! Oh, sure…sure thing…” The senior sounded slightly jostled for a moment, before returning to his distant demeanor, “Chit chat makes the sortin go faster…”

“Great!” The boy smiled at Riva before racing up to the exit of the mailroom, “I’ll be back as soon as possible!”

Soon after the sound of footsteps and levitation bubbles faded, the remaining intern heard the door creak open.

“Riva…” Cruller’s voice sounded slightly shaken, “I… Is it really you…?”

“S-sir…?” She frowned, “I-I don’t think we’ve met before…”

“Ah… I shoulda known you would’ve repressed it all…” He looked at the floor grimly, “They feared what you could become if you knew…”

“…W-what…?” The teen stepped away as the agent stepped closer, reaching a hand out to her. Eventually, she was against a wall.

“You…really were damaged by the feedback…weren’t you, kid…?” His bushy eyebrows furrowed in concern, “Back at Whisperin Rock… you remember that place, right…?”

Oh, that summer camp she got kicked out of only mere days in because she wasn’t even a real psychic?

“Yes, that’s the one.” Cruller answered her thoughts telepathically, “Except… you are psychic, Riva… Always have been… They just wanted you to believe you weren’t…so they could let you go back to society…”

Go…back…? Why wouldn’t she have been allowed to be in society if she was psychic? Isn’t that what the psychonauts are all about?

“You had potential, unlike what Nein Vodello and myself had ever seen from such a young mind… until Raz showed up, of course, but he was slightly older than you were…” He finally grabbed both of her hands, encasing them in his own, “You had such a gift with clairvoyance… it was beyond what the psychonauts ever thought was possible…”

“W-Wait…” She blinked, “You know Raz then? Why didn’t you just let him in the office…?”

“He’s not ready to learn the dark truths I’ve got tucked away in this old noggin…” The old man sighed, “I-I’m not ready for em, either… but… you are. You need to know the truth about yourself… You need to stop disregarding me when I say this: You ARE psychic…”

“B-BUT I’M NOT!” Riva tried to pull her hands away from him, to which he gently released them from their hold, “T-THAT CAMP WAS THE WORST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO ME! I THOUGHT I WOULD FIND SOMEWHERE I BELONGED, THAT I WAS GOOD FOR SOMETHING! B-but… I wasn’t… I-I was so full of myself to think I was special! M-My brains just BROKEN—“

“Stop it right there.” His voice became firmer, “Listen to me, before someone comes! Your potent clairvoyance meant we didn’t need any altering technology to convince you of a lie… You are so in tune with other people’s viewpoints and perspectives… you don’t even know what your reality is anymore… Other people tell you who you are, what you do, where you go. No more playin pretend, Riva.”

“I-I…b-but…”

“You were a psychic of high potential even at age 7, with budding specialities in clairvoyance, and hydrokinesis….” He smiled, “You… you made friends with every single piece of me, kid… I took you under my wing to teach you what I knew… but hydrokinesis… was a feared ability due to…well… another incident... When that secret spilled…”

“N-no… I-I can’t be… I-I don’t remember any of this!“

“Nein feared that your age, your diagnosis of autism, both combined with your psychic potential could result in you developing powerful abilities beyond even your own control…” Ford shook his head, “Headquarters wanted to lock ya up for observation in a psychoisolation facility for life… but, Sasha found a loophole. By having someone tell you that their biased perspective was reality, your brain would doubt its own perception, and start to believe them. That’s how we managed to let you leave that campsite with your family…”

By this point Riva was speechless, as countless memories she thought she had selfishly dreamed about returned to her. She fell to her knees, staring at nothing as she was flooded with all that she had forgotten. The ruthless bullying at camp, and their sabotaging of her efforts to learn to use her powers… That time they tried to drown her in the lake and she washed them all ashore on accident… the horror on everyone’s faces… It all actually happened?!

There were some happy things hidden in the mess, though… The time she’d spend drawing the wildlife out there, the cool places to explore… and the single friend she made at camp… That’s right, the cook was always there to comfort her after the other kids picked on her… No, wait, it was the ranger… But then why’d she remember a janitor, and a man watching over the canoes…? Why did they all look the same, identical even…? Then there was one more in a psychonauts uniform…

“There ya go. Now you’re getting it…” His frail hand grabbed one of hers, helping her up with a chuckle. “I should look more familiar to ya now, eh?”

She made eye contact again, and felt so stupid for not noticing this before. Riva always had an interest in the psychonauts, because they seemed like they could tolerate different minds. If her family could afford it, she would even read True Psychic Tales, mainly because she admired the illustrations. How could she not realize she knew Ford “The Founder Of This Whole Place” Cruller until now?!

Yet, at the same time, she felt her eyes water. It was nice to know she had a friend back then, even if he was old enough to be her grandpa. She didn’t say a word, and extended her free arm as an invitation…for something she definitely needed and wouldn’t want to get from Nick. The agent understood, and they hugged for a brief moment. She felt like this had happened before.

“I-I… I’m glad to see you, Mr. Cruller, b-but…” She quickly shifted back to worrying, “I-I am not in the best situation to do much of anything regarding the truth right now… I know Norma is telling Hollis I am the spy in the psychonauts… I-I am going to get locked up in the end anyway… T-they didn’t believe me before… Why would they believe me now—?”

He was gone.

The intercom sounded, with Hollis’ sharp voice ringing out, “Would Riva Beckons please come to the main area IMMEDIATELY!”

[azirafels]

black sails moodboard: davy jones AU: davy jones!silver

That was the duty he was charged with. To ferry those who die at sea to the other side. And every ten years he could come ashore to be with he who loves him truly. But the man had become a monster.

[ohblackdiamond]

weird mermay paul snippet (unfinished)

this isn’t even the main story, just prequel/semi-worldbuilding stuff that probably is only going to make it in snippets into the main early 1980′s storyline. here we are around 1964. eventually, there will be rock and roll. for now, it’s just mer wandering around an island. kind of weird.

xxx

“You didn’t do it right. You’re gonna have to learn sometime.” Julia’s voice sounded odd this way, above the water, but he could still understand her. Paul frowned, trying to concentrate. The faint purplish tinge to his legs-- legs, truly legs, even with the funny way half the toes melded together-- didn’t abate at all.

“It’s close, though. It’s a good try. Don’t you think so?”

Julia just clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. Paul looked at her attempt-- the skin on her legs was the same shade as her face and arms. Toes completely separated. She looked like a real human. Like the ones on the beach.

“What, you’ve been doing it a whole two years now. It’s not fair.”

Julia was already getting up. It took her a second or two; the movement wasn’t really natural, and then she leaned over, opening up the bag of clothes she’d stolen from the beach kids and pulling out a dress, throwing it on over her head. It was odd, seeing her that way. Mer never wore anything but bangles and chokers. 

“Try to stand up,” she said.

He stared hesitantly at his feet. They didn’t look substantial enough to bear any weight at all. He twitched and rotated both ankles in the water.

“They feel strange.”

Julia gave him a long-suffering look.

“That’s because you messed it up.”

“That’s not all of it, though, is it? Somebody told me they were always going to feel that way.” Experimentally, he lifted one foot up and out of the water, running his fingers up and down the wet, bare skin again. Not nearly as smooth as his tail. There were faint prickles of hair below his knees. He lifted the other leg out, too, scooting himself backwards using his arms until he was fully on the sand. His legs flopped back down with the effort. “Even if I got landlocked.”

“You’re not gonna be landlocked,” Julia muttered, already exasperated. “That takes ten years. It’s only been five minutes.”

“I meant if I--”

“You’re not, okay? Mom wouldn’t let me. Now c’mon. Get up.” After a second, she leaned over, offering him her hand. Paul reached for it, gripping it tightly, before folding his knees under him, gingerly. It was hard to focus. Half his body was so badly off from what he was accustomed to. The partially-formed toes curled near the balls of his feet. “Get up.”

He hadn’t gotten his bearings well enough when she jerked his arm. It was dizzying. He’d never been buoyed up by anything but the water before. He faltered, standing up for only a second or two before he fell against the sand again.

--

They lived in a sunken ship about thirty miles from the coast, one that had been in the family for a long time. It was just the two of them. It had been just the two of them for a year now.

Julia took care of him. She resented it, and made it obvious she resented it. Paul was deaf in one ear, a death sentence in the ocean. He couldn’t sense predators until they were right on him. His poor hearing meant he was no good at hunting food, either, so he made do with trapping crustaceans on the seafloor and tending a small seaweed garden, mostly. He wasn’t any good in general because of that ear. He couldn’t even talk right, the chirps and clicks slightly off despite his best efforts, and he had a hard time understanding conversations. Paul never was around anyone but Julia, if he could avoid it. He’d never get mated off to any of the few girls around who weren’t planning to landlock themselves once they came of age to permanently leave the water. He’d always be someone else’s burden.

He’d always be her burden. She’d wanted-- Paul knew she’d wanted-- to live on land, but she’d promised their mother she wouldn’t. They were the last of their family left that hadn’t died or gotten landlocked. And that had been a disgrace to some of the mer, because their family was one of the few that had never had any trouble bearing children. Had never needed to landlock in order to reproduce. Yet they’d dwindled anyway. The old ways had been fading for hundreds of years. All the opportunities were ashore. Every generation made it more obvious. Even the ritual he’d just partaken in, the first transformation from mer to human, had gone from almost sacred to rote and expected. No more pomp and circumstance, no elders or rites, just his older sister taking him to an island off the coast.

After several tries, Paul finally managed to hoist himself to his feet and stay there, though he was leaning heavily on Julia for support. The sand was hot against his tender, newly-formed skin. Julia had a shirt, a few pairs of shorts. and pants in that bag of clothes she’d nicked, and he’d managed, with difficulty, to yank on the jeans and shirt a little earlier. His mouth pinched as he focused on his steps. His body felt so uncoordinated, so heavy, legs more like reeds. Not useful. The way he’d messed up on the toes bothered him more and more as he kept looking at Julia’s feet for comparison.

“How far is it?”

“Not much farther.” Julia stopped, keeping a one-armed grip on him, surveying him up and down. She reached over, pushing a lock of dark brown hair in front of his bad ear. “Boys don’t have hair that long here.”

“I know that. I’ve seen humans before.”

“Maybe we should’ve cut it earlier.”

“I like it long.” He hesitated. “I’m never gonna stay out here anyway. It’s not gonna matter.”

Julia let out a long sigh but didn’t say anything else until they made it to the other side of the island. Paul could hear the humans before he saw them, laughing, talking, shouting. Probably at least a hundred of them playing on the beach. It was different seeing them really close up. They moved so smoothly. They talked so loud. Everything was indistinguishable noise to him, just like at home. The only thing above the din that he could really focus on was the sound of someone’s radio, and then, he could only really hear the guitar and drums. Paul held onto Julia’s arm all the harder.

“See that?” Julia pointed to a small portable stand, fitted with an umbrella. Behind it was a fat man handing out ice cream cones. “They sell food there.”

“I know. Just ’cause I haven’t been ashore before doesn’t mean I don’t know--”

“Do you want some?” Julia asked abruptly.

“You can’t give them anything for it.”

Another long-suffering look.

“Check in there,” and she pointed to the pockets of his jeans. Paul stuck his hands in the spaces, coming up with a couple of coins. Seventy-five cents worth. The little stand said the ice cream was thirty-five cents each. Mer were all taught to read letters and numbers, starting with the name of the sunken vessel they lived on. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

He really hadn’t. He thought just taking him for his first trip ashore had been enough of a sacrifice on her part to whine about until the next full moon at least.

“Well…”

“But you’ll have to order it yourself. I won’t do it for you.”

“Julia, don’t make me--”

“Oh, c’mon. How are you ever gonna come up here by yourself if you can’t talk to them?”

“I don’t want to talk to them, I just wanna see them.”

[fallershipping]

Looker x Anabel Retrospective

The absolute ultimate Retrospective post as to explain why I’ve been on this OTP since 2016. Especially made in mind with the idea that some new peeps on the boat may not realize the extent of the lore between these two characters. Feel free to read this or skip this if you want, because I did pour out my heart and soul and it can be kind of a lengthy read.

Enjoy~

So Looker and Anabel have been two existing characters in Pokemon for the longest time, with both being sort of beloved for different reasons but not too often thought about as compared to other NPCs. One’s a reoccurring comedy relief detective since Platinum and the other is probably the most memorable and strongest of the Hoenn Battle Frontier from Emerald.

But when SunMoon dropped, these two characters got a new lease on life that no one really saw coming. This special appearance made them go from NPCs I never really thought too much about to placing them as my top two favorite Pokemon characters of all time.

The UB Task Force mission, as much as a glorified fetch quest as it seems to be, continues some of the darker, more adult themes brought along with SunMoon. While the main story dealt with subjects of abuse and what it means to be a truly strong person in the case of hardships, the post game surprisingly delves into the corrupt side of a seemingly good organization and idea of sacrificing one life to save another. What appears to be another run of the mill Looker mission takes a dive into the tragic backstory shared between certain characters, and all of this lore was scrapped in the ‘definitive’ USUM games.

So while a lot of people might have played this portion of the game, many could have skipped it entirely or didn’t give the dialogue too much thought.

But you’re asking, why is it special? And why have I cared so much for a potential romantic relationship between Looker and Anabel enough to draw them as much as I have?

Haha. Buckle up buckaroo.

So right off the bat, Looker and Anabel’s banter sets up what kind of relationship they have with one another. They’re formal as coworkers can be, but the more they talk to one another, the friendliness that they share quickly becomes apparent. They also tend to speak highly of each other, no matter if the person is in the room or gone out.

And he’s not wrong! Looker is well aware of just how capable Anabel is for a guy that isn’t really known for Pokemon battles himself.

After the first UB on the list is securely captured, Looker insists on a feast for everyone to enjoy in one of Alola’s famous restaurants, in which Anabel points out asking how he had known of this already having just now arrived here. Looker, flustered, says that he’s read it in a magazine and dashes out to make reservations, cuing Anabel to react to his odd antics in a more...

Affectionate way.

Look at that lil smile.

He’s an odd fellow, for sure. A lot of characters in the past called him weird or were off put by his personality, but Anabel is very patient and sort of endeared by him. He constantly returns to the gang yelling “It’s a catastrophe!” in different languages-- And Anabel doesn’t snap at him angrily for it, but calmly asks him to repeat himself in english so that she can understand him.

During the course of the post game while Looker’s away, Anabel is always talking about him in a positive manner. Despite his quirks, she finds him a league of his own even amongst the elite of the International Police.

Despite this acknowledgment of Looker’s skill and ability, she seems to be awfully dead set on keeping Looker as backup in their base of operations.

Anabel knows how dangerous UBs are. They’re not human criminals that he can easily deal with with his own fists-- they are aggravated alien monsters. Her imagining Looker facing one of them alone without any Pokemon to defend himself with probably scares her deeply.

Scares her enough for her to constantly assign him to be backup for her and the Protag, despite his protests and his expertise in fieldwork.

And yet she never fails to remind him that he is important regardless of whether he’s on the field fighting alongside her or set to backup. Almost, in a way, finding a way to flatter him. (smiling at him as reassurance or perhaps even putting up a bit of charm) She is thankful for his help on getting intel and he’s a valuable asset to the mission, but she cannot bear the thought of her friend getting hurt when she can handle the UBs with her own fully trained Pokemon team.

However, despite her confidence, Anabel grows more and more fatigued with each UB encounter. Looker’s worry rises and he tries even harder to let himself take her place in the field.

As much as she also insists on not wanting to worry him, Looker’s usual goofy and eccentric demeanor begins to change. His speech patterns start to become more serious and his sentences trail off more often, which throughout all the games, is a rather rare sight to see. His care for Anabel brings out something vulnerable and emotional out of someone self proclaimed hard-boiled.

With all the respect he gives her and all the times he commemorates her aptitude, he still fears for her greatly.

And when a familiar character appears, we understand why.

Nanu comes in to talk about the truth behind Anabel’s reappearance in the series; much like the UBs, she came from another world through Ultra Space and ended up as what Interpol dubbed as a Faller. 

Fallers are bathed in the energy from ultra wormholes. Thus, UBs are attracted to these humans, mistaking them as a way back home and going on the attack. Back then, Interpol found a particular use for Fallers by using them to direct the attention of UBs away from public areas.

Which is what happened ten years prior to the events of SunMoon. Looker, Nanu, and a third member were sent to fight a Guzzlord. However, Looker hesitated in harming it further when it realized it was just scared monster sent here against it’s will. But his lapse in judgment cost the life of the third member, a Faller woman, to fall victim to Guzzlord’s attack.

Looker and Nanu took down the Guzzlord but learned the horrible truth about their companion, who was not trained in combat-- she was designated as bait, but the catastrophic results were a failure that shadows Interpol forever. Not long after, the two agents found a woman washed up Poni’s shore recollecting nothing about herself but her name; Anabel.

This is why Looker has been growing ever so worried for Anabel’s safety and why he even asked the champion in the first place to help. The protag is indeed a Faller as well. He thought he could be able to control the situation with having a fantastic trainer who befriended Solgaleo/Lunala to keep the UB outbreak in check-- To make sure Anabel was safe. After all, the protag is able to help the mission go along beautifully and safely capture each UB.

But not without a price. Anabel was still being hurt, and Nanu had to intervene to make Looker realize that he had made a big mistake.

After all, Anabel isn’t aware that she’s a Faller herself. Why doesn’t she know yet? Wouldn’t Looker tell her? Or Nanu?

It would appear as Interpol learned something after all these years, and isn’t really using her as Bait as they did before with the first Faller. Anabel is said to have autonomy over this and chose to save the UBs from a worse fate. Unlike the first Faller, she was properly trained for the UB Task Force missions and for many other Interpol related missions as her own strong, resourceful agent. However, Interpol is still quiet about her status as a Faller and anything relating to them from the past.

And Looker, years after the incident with Guzzlord, is now met with an Anabel with a newly built Interpol life determined to help people, Pokemon, and UBs in need no matter what. She absolutely believes in her successes and her cause. And she is adamant of going on these missions. Looker grows a bond with her and is faced with this troubling realization;

To tell her the truth would mean to collapse the whole world upon her.

After all... Having rebuilt her life, seeing her so confident, so passionate about what she’s doing... He sees her succeed in something he feels all too familiar with-- Starting from the bottom and creating an identity, somehow.

Having been found in the Battle Resort, washed ashore with no memory, not even a name to go by. Looker knows her pain more than anyone else. She needs to know about what she is going through-- But the uttermost pain she will feel and the lingering eyes of Interpol’s heads has been keeping him mortified and silent.

So he does anything and everything in his power to protect her in the meantime, before she can be told the truth. And with the way the Alola mission went, that time is coming up real soon.

However, with the protag and Nanu’s help the UB Task Force finally had every UB under control. And Anabel was kept safe and sound, much to Looker’s relief. They can finally enjoy some time off and no doubt will be in for quite a long, painful, but necessary conversation when the time comes.

Not of course before Looker going off into a slight panic over the idea of Anabel going on a date.

And that was the line that made me totally think “Oh yep, yep! Looker’s got a massive crush on her!”

SO! What’s the take away from all this madness??

The fact that Looker and Anabel care deeply for one another so much, as they go far too out of their way to protect each other from harm. Not just out of necessity, but their banter clearly shows that there’s a deeper connection between the two than just a professional coworker one.

You might argue that Looker is only worrying about her this deeply because of what he went through all those years ago and is trying to prevent the same thing from happening, and yet... He’s grown to appreciate and know Anabel for who she is. She is in fact her own agent that joined Interpol on her own volition and chose to do the UB missions due to her empathy to the lost beings so far from home.

He knows when she’s unwell, he knows why she hides it away. He understands her as a person and it’s wonderful how much they show that they grew to have a bond with one another. Enough for both of them to catch on to each other’s quirks and feel comfortable.

The small giggle that she gives him, the small yet playfully affectionate jab, the way it just says “Oh there he goes again thinking about the feast at this time... Just Looker being Looker~” Because she also knows him deeply as well! This man is not one of her best allies but one of her most trusted companions in this new life of hers and it shows!! 

They’re each other’s most trusted companions and their partnership is just wonderful to see.

Of course, romance can’t happen between them yet-- Not until Anabel knows the truth about Fallers and what Interpol did long ago. But let’s be honest, even the big angst/hurt/comfort fest that would come from that conversation would be a whirlwind of emotions that would just end up with them having an even stronger relationship than they’ve ever had before.

It’s not just that they look wonderful together, complement each other, and such-- It’s all those things plus the backstory and close bond and tragedy that comes from this mission. It makes me want to see them overcome every hurdle and be happy with one another and have all the joy and happiness they deserve after all they’ve been through.

I want to see them in more situations where they can be casual with one another, fight alongside one another, and so on so forth. They just have so much potential and I really think Game Freak sees it too.

And as for a lil bonus, Looker in USUM finding out the protag is the champion but is more impressed with Anabel’s knowledge than the actual champion. Also they’re always vacationing together mutually huh hmm wowie?

--

tl;dr go ship Looker/Anabel aka Fallershipping aka Lookabel best ship 10/10

[darklydeliciousdesires]

A Fate Unimagined - Chapter Twenty One.

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Previous Chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight NineTen Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

“Hello, my darling. How are you?” Riley asked, greeting his ex-wife with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“No longer your darling, even though you do persist in referring to me as such,” she began, letting go to take a look at him. “What’s wrong? What trouble do you bring to my door?” Of course, knowing him as well as she did after being married to him for ten years, she knew when he was perturbed.

He and Geralt both explained everything to her right there in the candle lit welcome hall, Tayliss listening to every detail intently as she nodded, twirling a strand of her white blonde hair around her finger.

“I have exactly what you need. Follow me.” lifting her long, black dress she covered the floor quickly, reaching the steps leading to her tower, where she had her altar set up and much of her magical apothecary.

“A concealment spell or talisman won’t work, you still need to cross the water to reach the island. They’ll still be able to see the water beneath an invisible boat rippling and fire ball you right out of the sea. What I can do though is mix a potion which will have you take on their appearance. All you then need to do is navigate a boat across the water,” she continued with a smile.

“But we won’t look like anyone they know of. As soon as we come ashore, they will know,” Geralt stated, Tayliss shaking her head as she took his arm.

“Keep very still,” she told him, undoing the armour covering his arms and sniffing the fibres of his shirt. “Ember hair. I can smell two different types on you. Hold out your hand.” She then carefully extracted a hair with her long, pointed fingernails, placing it delicately on his hand before searching for the second.

“You’re too bloody clever for your own good,” Riley complimented her with, Tayliss winking a brilliant blue eye at him. That was the first thing which had attracted him to her all those years ago, her bright blue eyes. His time with her might have been over, but she remained the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Get out of my hair while I brew these, go and help yourselves to anything you like in the kitchen. Riley knows where everything is kept.” They both left gladly, their stomach’s growling from a lack of sustenance since they’d been held captive.

They found bread, cheese and a lot of fruit, eating plentifully and washing it down with the red wine Riley had missed since the dissolution of his marriage. Tayliss had a vineyard, wine was her passion besides her aptness for sorcery.

“So how do you know for sure that’s where Rin is being held? I mean it does seem obvious, but perhaps that’s what they want us to think? We shouldn’t discount that this could be a trap,” Riley asked, rolling crumbs beneath his finger until the formed a tiny little dough ball.

“My daughter told me.” Geralt received the facial expression he was expecting, Riley looking at him in a puzzled way before he continued. “She’s able to visit me in my dreams. She’s done it before and earlier this morning, she did it again to tell me where her mother was being held and exactly how to get out of our situation.”

“I suppose when we take into consideration her power, it isn’t hard to imagine that she can manifest herself in your dreams somehow. It makes me wonder though, how can Rin possibly be being held against her will when we take into consideration just how powerful the unborn force to be reckoned with is?” he questioned, Gerald raising his eyebrows and sighing.

“This is the reason I need to get to her, and quickly.” He paced around the kitchen, feeling useless as he waited for Tayliss to return, the mage appearing after a further hour, holding two black glass bottles.

“Whenever you feel your face starting to tingle, you have roughly twenty seconds to sip more or your true identities will be revealed. There’s enough there to keep you concealed for a week, should you need it.

“Go and get your ember, my house boy Ormand will travel with you to the coast and then bring your horses back here.” Taking the bottles and thanking her, they left at speed, Riley then suddenly turning back to take her face in his hands and kiss her on the lips.

“And she still tastes like cake. Damn, I’m a stupid man whore.” He exclaimed, winking and making her laugh through nose as she shook her head, watching him run after Geralt. Riley might have enjoyed taking different women to bed on a regular basis, but he always would regret that his issue with monogamy had cost him a woman like her, cake taste and so much more.

The coast was a half day ride away, the sailing distance to Rholkrhaden Island two days from their geographical location. If they were crossing from Peixe de Mar, the crossing would only take half an hour. It made Geralt extremely antsy from the moment they boarded the boat.

The plan they had devised as to why – as they were highly likely to be asked – they had left their charges and travelled back to Rholkrhaden was to say they fell under attack from the Sanctuary, the witchers in their guard being slaughtered and leaving them with no option but to flee home after finding themselves extremely outnumbered.

“You realise there is a chance they might not believe it. I think we are likely to be viewed with suspicious eyes, especially since those two embers have lived out on the Continent for so many years,” Riley said as they stood at the helm of the small ship they’d been able to hire.

It had cost a lot, but Geralt paid it gladly to the captain of the vessel. Pirates never came cheap, but they were more likely to sail to a place that most regarded as dangerous territory. The homeland of the embers was very much considered just that. He’d also agreed to wait for them, which was entirely necessary for a quick getaway.

“That is a chance I’m willing to take. What you need to remember also is that before Rin and the baby, the target upon embers was minimal. Now because of their involvement with what the Sanctuary consider to be an abomination, anyone who comes into contact with her is fair game. They should believe that.” He was quiet then, standing there staring out at the ocean ahead, willing the ship to move faster.

He have swam there if it would get him to the island any quicker, the only thing he was truly relieved at in that moment was knowing just how strong Rin was. Whatever they were inflicting upon her, she could handle it. She was tough. That didn’t stop him from being worried though, needing her to be where she belonged, back at his side.

“I’m coming, my fiery beauty.” He whispered into the early morning fog, a frown etching his forehead that would not leave until he had his ember back in his arms.

  “Rin, wake up, do not tell them I’m undoing these but here. You should at least be able to eat unfastened. I’m trusting you not to harm me,” Helvenna spoke as she undid the bindings of a sleepy Rin, moving the small table near to the bed so she could eat. She’d brought her a dinner of sausages, roast potatoes and broccoli, the food being about all Rin ever missed from her former home.

Immediately, Rin was suspicious. Giving the food a precautionary sniff, she then witnessed Helvenna take the cutlery and cut a small piece from each item, eating them with a shrug. “It isn’t tainted, see?” she spoke, smiling and handing the knife and fork over to her.

After witnessing such, she ate gladly, her stomach growling. While she did, Helvenna talked to her, the ember acting in a way that was far removed from the aloof, cold woman she’d known since she was a child.

“I really must enforce the point everyone else has been driving home, Rin. We honestly do not want any harm to come to you or the child. We’re thinking of you, dear girl, your welfare, your safety. This child that you carry is volatile, she presents a great danger.

“Think about it too, if the Sanctuary are pursuing you with this kind of might now, what on earth will they be like once the baby is actually born? That’s no life for a new born, fleeing across the Continent, not having a proper home,” she gently put to her, Rin balking at her words.

“She’ll have us, her mother and father. We are all she needs,” she spoke, spearing a small potato with her fork and mopping up the gravy with it before putting it in her mouth, eyeing Helvenna sharply.

She knew what was going on. The elder ember was attempting to wheedle her way in with kindness, showing her charity in untying her, likely attempting to bond through some false notion of sisterhood that never existed in the first place. “You won’t wear me down, Helvenna. I know what you’re doing. I’m too clever to fall for it.”

“Rin! There’s no trickery here,” she began, laughter rippling her voice. “You poor thing, you must be going through so much because of that fucking Sanctuary of the Blessed bastards. It isn’t surprising that you do not know whom to place trust in.” Reaching out she attempted to stroke her hair, Rin jerking her head away and scowling at her.

“I know exactly who to trust. The man who put this baby into my womb, that’s who, the man you snatched me from. If I could trust you at all, you wouldn’t have done that. You would not have segregated me from him. You’ve only done it because you attempt to wear me down and think such an exercise will be easier for you if he isn’t here. He’s one less person you have to try and cajole,” she spat, eyeing her with distaste.

Helvenna couldn’t answer immediately, being faced with the undeniable truth of their actions in making sure Geralt was kept out of the way. “Yes, I’ve got you there, haven’t I?” Rin added further, shaking her head. “It won’t work. You’re not taking my daughter from me and I’m not murdering her.”

“Well you have to fucking decide something, because there is no third option for you, you cocky little shit!” Flinging her unfinished dinner through the air with an angry flick of her hand, Helvenna stormed from the room, growing tired of Rin’s lack of conformity.

They’d expected her to buckle by now, having been held there for almost a week. They’d thought the fact she had no other choices other than those presented to her would have forced her hand into one of the options presented to her. They also knew she wouldn’t use the powers of her unborn child either, for if she did, then everything people were claiming about it was true; the baby would be a monster, an abomination.

What they didn’t bank on was her unshakable faith in both herself and Geralt. If she couldn’t escape under her own will, she knew Geralt would find a way to her. It would take considerably more than that to shake her faith in her witcher.

[lovecraftian-druid]

Pactborn - Part III

Khaadeehava, Lahira Marina.  It was a brisk harvest morning - not cold, mind you, but still…there was a certain extra salty sea breeze in the air that morning. I started my day like every other morning since I turned fifteen: wake up, get dressed, hit up my favorite food stand for two dosas with coconut chutney for breakfast, and head down to the docks for work.  I should have known from the start that today was going to be different though when I had to hear those six awful words: “sorry, we’re all out of coconut.”  Too lazy at that point in the morning to look elsewhere for breakfast but also too foolish to ask for my other options, I told them to surprise me – a mistake indeed, as I found out after my first bite.

Ginger chutney.  Ugh.

Already disappointed with how my day was going, I discarded my breakfast to a large flock of gulls then quickly finger-combed my hair before jogging the rest of the way to the boardwalk in an effort to warm myself up more. Ghaan may not get snow like some of the places Papa had told me about, but it still gets bitter cold late in the year: it was only one of the first few days of the month of Muu, and already the fog that would roll in with the ships would bring a settling of frost on anything it touched.

As I reached the fog-riddled Lahira Marina, my primary senses – being trained to switch over from sight to sound – focused through the blindness, taking in the rhythmic lapping of waves, plaintive crying of seabirds, muffled creaking of wet wooden boards, and occasional thumping of mooring ropes as swaying ships bumped up against them in the shipyard. From memory, I find my way through the icy mist to the old docker, Telfar.  “Is a’ you, Ka’lya?” the portly middle-aged human called out in my direction.

“As per usual, Telfar,” I replied, following the barely visible light of his hooded lantern. “By the way,” I add, slowing my jog to a walk, “you can just call me Ka’l, seriously.”

“Sure, sure,” was his mumbled response, as always.  He stood there, stroking just the right side of his brown and grey mutton chops as he peered out into the harbor. “Got some big loads comin’ in today, mostly from Dawnwilde: salt, ore, that sort of thing. Couple merchants due to arrive today from Hjarta, too – lumber shipment, I think…  Gonna be a busy day for us both, I dare say,” he ruminated aloud.

Just as he said that, the toll of a ship’s bell rang out into the chilly haze, announcing the arrival of our first customers of the day.  Without a word required, we both sprang into action, making ready for the sea vessel to come into port. Telpar bellowed questions and instructions to the ship’s deck officer while I ran out extra mooring and made ready to receive the tossed ropes from the ship itself.  I could see my breath as I heard the ship drop anchor, slowing itself as it calculated its berthing to enter the yard.

Once docked, Telfar would discuss import and export details with the ship’s captain while I would usually board the vessel and coordinate what needed loaded or unloaded with the crew, pitching in with the manual labor. It was amazing, the types of stories these sailors would share with me as we moved cargo – tales of gigantic sea creatures, dangerous sea storms, and merciless pirates. I would always listen with rapt attention and sincere awe, wondering what it would be like to sail the high seas.

The morning pressed on, and the fog eventually dissipated. More and more merchants began pulling in and out of the marina, pushing us to hustle with each new arrival.  By that point, the docks were loud with the jumbled voices of seamen talking amongst themselves or conducting business with one another: many would operate right from their own gangplanks, haggling for surplus merchandise or making trades while others could be seen negotiating passenger rates for those looking to travel.  Opportunistic food vendors would wander down from the Central Bazaar to roast meats on spits in an effort to lure hungry mouths craving the enjoyment of a hot, cooked meal.  Exotic spices and other pleasant aromas filled the air as small puffs of dried herbs and other seasonings sifted naturally from the burlap bags we tossed from the holds of large boats.  Young girls squealed as they hung off of the arms of sailors, both parties enjoying the brief reprieve ashore.  The marina was its very own little slice of the Upper Planes, and getting to experience the daily wonders was – in and of itself – a reward of its own.  Still though, a girl’s got to make a living, and to do so meant rarely getting to stop to enjoy the thrills of the bustling coast.

By noon, a lull had finally graced us with a break in action. The sun glistened and glinted off of the beautiful waves that splashed against the beach as I walked, barefoot, on the sand, staring out into the wide, cerulean expanse of the Turquoise Waves. My mind wandered for a moment or more before Telfar interrupted my contemplations – “Ka’lya! Ka’lya!  I need your swift feet!" I slipped back into my shoes, the insides now scratchy with gritty sand, as I hurried back up to him along the dock.  He was in his usual cheerful mood (he always enjoyed rubbing elbows with ship captains, always claiming that “it never hurt to have a seaman remember your name for a good reason). Standing next to him was a pair of well-dressed men, one of which looked to be of halfling or gnomish descent, the other a smarmy-looking human.

"The captain of the Humble Hermit has an ink shipment for the Painted Lady - I need you to run down to the parlor and fetch her signature: his boys will wheel her crates over straight away: they need to shove off within the hour, and we both know you'll be there and back to us before they finish pulling it off the ship, heh heh," he chortled with residual laughter from whatever had the two of them cracking up moments ago. “Also –” he commented more professionally as he handed me a sealed letter stamped with some reddish-brown wax, “– if you could drop this off to her as well, this gentleman would be most appreciative."  The shorter man made brief eye contact with me before giving me a nod and then returning to his conversation with Telfar.

Seeing this as an opportunity to grab some lunch and perhaps make a little extra coin by way of a tip, I took the letter and headed off towards the Painted Lady, our boardwalk’s popular tattoo parlor. As I sprinted along the busy walkway, I couldn’t help but get the feeling that I was being watched, followed, something.  When I reached the parlor, I made small talk with Nexus, the tiefling woman who ran the shop, before explaining that her shipment was on its way and delivering the special mail. She took the letter, opened it, shook her head, and smiled weakly. “Oh, Darja…thank you for, um, dropping off the note, Ka’l…here, tell him I am fine and give him my regards.” Nexus said as she absent-mindedly signed off on the invoice parchment, drawing a quick but masterful sketch of a sailing ship at the bottom of the document before returning it to me and flipping me a copper piece. “Enjoy what’s left of the nice weather!”

I took back off into the crowd, pressing my way to a food stand to grab a bite to eat (courtesy of Nexus), then hurriedly returned to Telfar and the man who apparently wrote the letter. "Ahoy!" Telfar hollered toward me as I jogged, "I told ya, didn't I?  It’s like she’s got wings, she’s so fast." I felt myself blush at the compliment but appreciated it all the same.  "Come, come, give the captain his papers," he said as he straightened up, beaming with pride.

The man’s eyes were dancing with hope more than expectation as he asked me, “"Did she give you anything? A letter or something maybe?”  Knowing it likely wasn’t as much as he wanted, I handed him the signed document – he unrolled it with initial excitement then sniffed the spot where she had signed with bizarre reverence before giving the air a hard sniff, holding his head up high, and pocketing the parchment.  I felt my face attempt to hide a contorted look of confusion as he turned to address us: Mr. Telfar, this longshoreman of yours, I simply must have her as part of my crew – not only is she fast, but she’s a welcome sight for sore eyes such as myself and my sailors…” His eyes settled on my own as he continued, “It wouldn’t be much for starters, just a midshipman position to replace one of my former members who was recently carried off by a harp—errrr, seems to have abandoned ship…so, what say you?”

I couldn’t believe my ears: this was all I’d ever wanted, all I had ever dreamed about doing with Papa – a chance to sail? How could I turn down such an opening? Perhaps gaining some experience at sea would afford me an opportunity to go with Papa on his next voyage the next time he returned home? But what would Mama, Jida, and Jido do without me in the meantime for the much-needed income? My mind raced with indecision and – as though he read it – the merchant sweetened the pot: “Do you think you’d be up for making some coin for a ten-day tour aboard the Golden Afternoon? I’d pay you five copper a day, not a coin less.”

Quickly doing the math in my head, I calculated the profit: working with Telfar, I was making a mere two copper a day, plus a tip if I was lucky – that worked out to a modest two silver pieces by the end of a ten-day.  If I did the tour, I’d make over double that in the two weeks I’d be at sea; and I’d be living out my biggest dream as a bonus.  Still, my conscience weighed heavy. “I’m…I’m very interested, but I’d…uh…like to think about it…I mean, if that’s alright,” I said as my voice trailed off in tongue-tied gratefulness and hesitancy. While Telfar looked relieved at this, the captain looked disappointed.

I opened my mouth to break the awkward silence when a hand gently but firmly settled on my shoulder – turning my head to see who was there, I saw Vormesius, the elderly green dragonborn who owned the jeweler’s shop on the boardwalk. “What do I overhear about you going on an adventure, Miss Ka’lya?” wheezed the old man, his jaw slack between words. I again attempted to speak but felt the grip tighten on my shoulder as he continued, “you know, I bet that would really make your folks proud, them having another seafarer in the family – maybe you can try out that nice compass your father gave you?”

It was at that moment that I knew something was awry: not only was it out of character for the sweet, aged jeweler to insert himself into other people’s conversations; but I definitely had not had enough interactions with him to have ever brought up my compass. Turning my head to meet his gaze, I realized that the golden, vertical-pupiled eyes into which I stared were not Vormesius’s…these were the eyes of an acquaintance long since forgotten, only to be resurrected from the depths of my childhood memories.

I knew not what else to do – I stared, unblinking, into his eyes as I addressed the merchant, but only in words: “uh, yes, okay…let me get my things together and tell my family, if that’s okay, Captain…?” I asked, waiting for his reply (as well as his name).

“Oh, sorry, yes, that’s more than acceptable,” he responded, pleased. “And the name is Darja – pleased to officially meet you and welcome you as one of the crew.” He extended his hand to shake mine and, after doing so, looked about for a moment before absently asking, “hmm, where did that dragonborn go in such a hurry? Oh well; meet me aboard the Golden Afternoon in one hour – adventure awaits!”

I found myself running again, in a complete daze. What was I doing? How was this happening? And why did that tabaxi man show back up? Why (and how) was he disguised? It had to be him, it just had to be. Those eyes, that voice…what was his name again?  It’s been so long…

Making it back home, I sped through the house, chaotically gathering up anything I thought I might find useful while at sea. Surprised to find me home so early, Mama followed me into my room: “Ka’lya, you’re home early – what are you doing?”

Anxiety springs up from my stomach and clutches at my heart as I swallow hard, not wanting to say what I knew had to come next. “I’m leaving, Mama. I’m going to join a crew for two weeks at sea.  I’m going to sail like Papa and bring home lots of coin to help the family. Don’t…don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine…I’ll be back before you know it.” The words spilled out of my mouth in a mess of stoic sadness.  Mama’s eyes met mine and she silently watched me pack, eyes glistening with tears, as she stood in my bedroom doorway holding some laundry.

Eventually finding words, she stifled a sob before saying, “I knew this day would come…I just didn’t think it would happen so soon…please look after yourself, and write to me often, and remember the stories your father has told you: do the wise thing - not the brave thing - if you want to tell the tale." I could hardly look at her without wanting to break down in tears myself. She reached out, tucking my hair behind my ear then pulling me into a tight, warm hug. “You are so loved, Ka’lya – I will miss you so much.  Come back to me, okay?”

I nodded, fighting back the hot moisture pooling in the corners of my eyes. As I released from our embrace, something clattered from my pack to the floor.  We both looked down to see what it was before I realized – “the compass…I’m bringing it with me,” I explained.  

She smiled, halfheartedly. “I hope it brings you back to me soon then.”

I rushed in to steal one more hug and a swift kiss on the cheek before bolting back out the door, at which point I allowed the tears to come streaming down my cheeks as I rushed back to the port district. Breathless, I searched for Darja’s ship – my ship.  It didn’t take long to locate what looked at first like the regular old merchant schooner; however, its name (the Golden Afternoon) was embossed in brilliant metallic-colored paint and seemed to shimmer as the sun reflected off the waters beneath it.  The furled sails appeared to have a sandy circular emblem with a gold ship's wheel inside it, advertising it to other sailors as a merchant vessel. "Are you ready to board now?" Darja asked. "Just think, in two weeks' time, you'll have made fifty copper pieces by the time we loop back around!  And I’ll tell ya what, if you feel up to the task after the first ten-day, we can make it a solid 100 so that you can bring your mum a shiny gold piece if you think you can do two more weeks. Oh, the stories you'll bring home, too!"

Darja chattered on for what felt like an eternity, trying to talk up the whole scenario. But as we raised the anchor and shoved off to sea, all I could do was lean over the stern and watch Khaadeehava – the only place I’d ever known – fade out into the distance as we sailed westward into the sunset.

 -----------------------

Hope you enjoyed this week’s (belated) installation of Ka’l’s backstory!  If you enjoyed reading this, feel free to ask to be added to the list!

Ye Olde Taglist: @serenewrites​, @mayvinwrites

[7deadlycinderellas]

In the bleak midwinter

AO3 link

Despite the others no longer being a threat, it was still a long winter, and possibly the coldest Westeros had seen in living memory.

Even King’s Landing becomes blanketed in snow and ice, though not heavily enough to stop the carts coming in and out, the trade and struggle of its people, who’s memory of so recently being burned is still too close to the surface.

It’s King sits on his throne, as cold and unfeeling as the season.

Or so it’s citizens see.

Bran had been stuck as the cold and unfeeling raven for so long that it is easy to keep the face on, and let them believe that’s what he still is.

It’s only behind closed doors, with those closest to him. His hand, Tyrion Lannister, and the head of his Kingsguard, Ser Brienne of Tarth. The grand maester and his wife and children. It was only with these whom he felt he could let himself be seen, the Bran Stark who had been lost for so long.

It was better that way, Bran thought. No matter how overwhelmingly glad he is to have himself back, that’s not what Westeros needed from their King. They needed someone staid, unmovable. Someone without passion or anger or bloodlust. And if his manner was off putting, then maybe they would learn to only seek his aid when it was truly needed. And those times would come less and less often.

And maybe someday, they would not need him at all, and he could be done with all of this. They would realize they did not need a king to sit above them and decide what they needed. And that damned throne, and all the bloodshed it caused, could die with him.

He dreams, endlessly, of when that day will come.

But now, in the depths of winter, he sits upon his chilly throne, and stands stolid, the king of the ice and snow.

And sometimes, he finds himself in the Godswood. He doesn’t come here much now, not since that one sweet, far day, but today he locks his wheels underneath the still-red leaves of the weirwood, and checks on the others he holds dear.

There is, within the Red Keep, a room with two small beds which is on paper, Gilly’s. She has never slept there.

Right now, her and Sam sit at the desk in the grand Maester’s chambers, pouring over paperwork and whispering. Little Sam sits upon the bed, playing with his younger sister without a care.

“It’s a good idea,” Sam admits, “But I don’t know if people will go for it.”

“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try,” Gilly insists, “You remember what it meant to me.”

Bran smiles. It had been the same day that they had asked him to come with them to the Godswood that they had told him of their plans.

 “It’s just there’s so much of this place that isn’t being used…” Sam had trailed off. This as true, the rebuilt Red Keep having whole wings which were not in use.

    “And really it isn’t fair for them to keep everything to themselves in Oldstown.” Gilly had added. Truthfully, Bran hadn’t felt any guilt at letting Sam break the maester’s vow. What happened in the Godswood was between the gods and them. It would never go down on paper, and Sam and Gilly knew it.

 But what did that matter to them?

And after, they sent little Sam, now nearly as tall as his father, out into the streets near the keep, to find the other children. And now, every moon or so, in one of the rebuilt buildings near a gate that goes mostly unguarded, scores of children meet, boys and girls, street rats and merchant’s children alike. They reach the keep leaving their footsteps in the snow, and wearing their thickest wool, and come to learn their letters and their numbers, and how to tie a snare and a bowline.

And, for now, they are thinking and planning about what else they could teach them.

Ser Brienne is on guard duty this night. She stands her perch with poise. Bran sometimes wonders if she had ever dreamed of this life, even if she never spoke of it. It was a coveted position, but one that was doomed to loneliness. Sometimes he thinks he should release her, allow to travel North to serve Sansa again, that they might both have a friend. Selfishly, he knows he depends too much on her.

In his own chambers in the tower of the Hand (though much smaller than the one previous), Tyrion Lannister writes a letter.

The friendship that lingered between the Hand and his former wife was truly a sight to behold. Perhaps the man, having lost what was left of his own family, clung to something that might not have been perfect, but was honest in it’s own way. It seemed Tyrion, much like Bran, often feared Sansa was lonely in Winterfell.

But the truth is, Sansa is too busy to be lonely.

Even in the depths of frozen winter, the North did not grind to a halt. Roads still had to be cleared, animals fed and watered, stores kept an eye on. And the Queen in the North presided over all of this.

And on it’s own, the North can thrive.

Tonight, Sansa is sitting by the fire in her solar, reading. Her hair hangs loose down her back and in her night dress, she is in a state no one but those closest to her has ever seen. Tomorrow she will be taking petitions, and then finding accommodations for a group of orphans.

Orphans have been a special problem in the north it turns out. So many died in the war for the dawn, they are everywhere. And it’s not just the number, it’s that so much still needs to be done. Repairs are ongoing, even this nearly ten years later.

It had been the first decree Sansa had made as queen. Orphaned children would be placed in apprenticeships, cost paid by Winterfell, and would be placed either with families or allowed to shelter in groups. No children would die huddling for warmth on a village street while Sansa was Queen in the North. Sometimes she thinks of what Jon told her once, about how many groups of the Free Folk treated the children as if they belonged to all of them, and wonders if there was anything to convince her northerners to take this view.

But tonight, the Queen simply reads a letter from the north, then snuffed out her candle and went to bed.

The letter she reads come from far north of Winterfell. Jon sent it from the last Free Folk settlement he had been to, the bird that carried it is huge and sharp-beaked; the only raven to travel north of the Wall.

Bran’s heart aches at the sight of his brother-cousin. Though the devastation has finally begun to fade from his eyes after all this time, his appearance still belies his self-imposed exile: His hair has grown long, a beard accompanying it.

But despite his mental state, the others follow him. They have made their way across the land of beyond-the-wall. Sometimes they stop, clearing debris from a formerly abandoned village. They burn corpses, and rebuild dwellings, and sometimes some of them settle and don’t leave.

But Jon always does.

Bran wishes that sometime during the night, he will be able to reach out and touch Jon, the way he did Meera years ago, to remind him of those there are south of the wall, who do not want to lose him to the winter.

And finally, Bran lets himself drift east.

It doesn’t snow often at Storm’s End. The winters here primarily consist of the immense, stone castle being battered by endless storms that drop rain, and hail and wallop it with winds enough to scrap the skin from your face for days on end.

But inside the castle, the fires burn warm, there for anyone to dry off from being inside.

Two girls, black of hair and blue of eye, wring their plaited hair out over the hearth, talking over each other.

As their words reach the point of unintelligible, their mother approaches from behind them with a towel.

“All you would have to do is pull up your hoods and you wouldn’t get so wet,” Arya chides them, rolling her eyes at their cloaks, left on the ground by the door, “That is why they have them.”

And in the winter, the rain in the Stormlands could freeze a man to his bones, she doesn’t add.

Both girls ignore her, and instead launch into a roaring stream of what they’d done that day.

“We saw a dolphin!”

“That was a fish!”

“Nuh uh, it was too big!”

“Oh, and a rainbow over the sea-”

“Lysa pulled off my ribbon again”

“I did not! It fell!”

Arya shushes them both by picking their fallen cloaks and thrusting the wet wool in both of their arms.

“Lyra, go the forge and drag your father out. It’s past supper, and we’ve all missed it again. Lysa, go to the kitchen and have Polly have our food sent up to the solar by the guest wing.”

Lyra runs off without another word. Often taciturn like her father, only being around her twin brought the mischief out of her. Gendry couldn’t spend as much time in the forge as before, but whenever he had the extra time, he would sneak down, and his daughter would follow, fetching and moving things for him, and between the two of them they would pull tools and armor and other joys straight from the flames.

Lysa’s eyes go bugged out at her mother’s words.

“If we’re having supper, does that mean Maester Elric doesn’t need you anymore? The baby’s born?”

Arya’s barely perceptible nod causes Lysa to squeal loudly. Arya’s reaches out and grabs her by the plait before she can run off.

‘Hold onto your guts, giving birth is tiring. Leave your aunt be, and we’ll let you both meet your cousin tomorrow morning.”

Lysa pouts, but doesn’t race off. Lysa loved babies, and had been ecstatic to meet the aunt she hadn’t known she had, especially since she was going to have a tiny cousin to squeal over.

Gendry comes in from the forge still in his apron. He takes it off, goes to the basin and scrubs his hands clean with a thick paste before joining his wife and daughters.

Supper is a stew of salted fish and mussels, The storms wash plenty ashore even if the fisherman cannot always go out. Lysa happily chatters off stories the twins had been told of the krakens that must live in the waters.

Afterwards, Arya sends both the girls off to bed, where they go, sulkily.

Once they are gone, Gendry pulls on her hand towards their bed, and she pulls back.

“Gonna go check on Meera again.”

He sighs.

“I’m surprised Elric let you leave. He speaks of you like some kind of legend. “

“Well I did carry twins and walk around like normal until they day they came.”

“And then tried to get straight up the day after and resume your duties.”

Arya shrugs.

“Not like I could know as a child I would be good at having them.”

Just what she’d always want to be known for, Bran thought to himself. Forget the uncharted islands her ship and crew had found, or the new route to Essos they had mapped, all the Maester wanted to praise her for was the ease at which she bore children.

Sometimes, when the Maester says these things, Arya dreams of the places she’d been. The islands with spiky fruit that tasted of soft custard. The huge, long toothed beasts the sailors would spy, sunning themselves on rocks. The smell of spices on a bay, well before anything but the buildings can be seen on the horizon.

 She tells Gendry that she longs to go back. To smell the sea air and feel the boat shifting under her feet. Her three years at sea had reinvigorated her soul, let her breathe again and rediscover what joy was.

    She’d missed Gendry terribly though, and had told him so often. She’d kept her promise to come back for more than a single reason.

She wants to take him this time, wants to nestle underneath his arms in the hammock on deck, being rocked to sleep by the ocean waves. She wants to show him everything she had seen, that he might come alive again without the stress of being a Lord Paramount who had never once thought he would amount to anything.

 “Maybe in the future,” she says, “When the girls are older. We can leave all the paperwork and all the squabbling and all the disasters on the horizon and just sail off into the sunset.”

When he watches his nieces, Bran is very glad that one of the first royal decrees he had to sign was ushering in Dornish inheritance laws into use across Westeros. It hadn’t been a popular decision, especially when it came to heirs who were already being prepared to rule(and wouldn’t be ousted, his advisors assured them), but it was necessary. Every one of the six kingdoms would be left with at least one house wiped out of existence otherwise.

He makes it up to the guest wing before Arya does, but waits before she enters. When he does, he finds himself averting the memory. Watching Meera on the bed is like looking into the sun.

She’s only wearing a shift, her curls stuck to her scalp with sweat. The linen wrapped bundle she holds against her chest is quiet for the moment. She tilts her head up when Arya enters.

“You feel back in one piece yet?”

Meera snorts,

“I don’t think I have any bones left. I can’t believe Ser Davos’s wife did this seven times.”

“Nonsense,” Arya insists, “You did fine. Didn’t tear even a little.”

Meera’s expression mirrors Bran’s thought process. Of all the things the visions taught him, that such a thing was possible was on a long list of things he wished he could unsee.

Arya sits at the chair the maester had left beside the bed.

“I hadn’t asked. Did you have a name picked out?”

Meera nods.

“Catelyn. We- we were going to leave it for Sansa...but that doesn’t seem to be in the cards so…”

There’s a moment of silence for that. Arya reaches out to flick a finger on the tip of the child’s nose, causing her to make a gurgling sound and shift in Meera’s arms.

“I was thinking of sending one of the twins to Winterfell,” Arya admits, “But I can’t bear the thought of separating them. I might have to eventually.”

“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell,” Meera recites.

Arya stares off, sadly, before changing the subject.

“There’s no rush. You can stay here until you’re back to normal and she’s sleeping more soundly.”

Meera’s eyes squeeze for a moment, as though she was blinking back tears.

“Thank you...I wasn’t sure what we were going to do when- and it wouldn’t have been safe to try and travel back home this time of winter.”

“Is that,” Arya asks, trying not to pry, “What you’re going to do when you leave? You’re going to return to Greywater Watch?”

Meera nods. One of Cat’s arms has come unwrapped, and she reaches up for her mother’s face.

“I owe my father an heir...and Bran can’t have a wife or an heir. That was the plan, and it seemed to be working out fine for us. We talked about it a lot the morning before I left. I’ll stay there for a bit though- at least long enough for him to write it down. Thanks to the power of royal decree, she will bear my name.”

To the world, Meera thought, on paper her daughter might as well be a bastard. She wouldn’t get to know her father until they were all older. The tears gathered in the corner of her eye breaks free, marking a path down her cheek. She nudges it away with her wrist.

“I wish I didn’t miss him so badly though.”

 Sam and Gilly had stood witness for them in the Godswood, without even a question.

    “You did the same for us,” Gilly insisted, “Of course we would.”

Sam had helped him from his chair, so he could sit in the snow beneath the weirwood, and Meera had knelt beside him. Sam had said the words, stumbling a bit, and needing Gilly to nudge and whisper to him. The only cloak available was the same plain wool one he wore everyday, which Meera replaced with her own so he would not shiver, despite not being a traditional part of the ceremony, it suited them.

They clasped hands and prayed, the light snow collecting on their clothes and hair.

It could never go down on paper, they all knew that. But the Godswood had seen more than one of these, and what went on between them and the gods was for them alone.

 Bran would be the last king of Westeros if he had anything to say about it. Maybe sometime in the future, the story would find it’s way out. The queen and princess who weren’t there.

“Seven years it took,” Meera commented, and Bran breaks away from the memory. “We were beginning to think the maesters were right and Bran couldn’t have children,”

Arya rolls her eyes.

“I never understood why they were so certain of that. Though it did take all seven years.”

“And it certainly wasn’t for lack of trying-”

“Hey, if you’re going to go down that alley, I’ll just leave you alone tonight.”

“I don’t think I am alone.”

Arya smirks.

“You think he’s doing the creepy all-seeing bit again?”

“I don’t think he can help it. When I’m not there it’s harder for him to stay in the moment.”

Arya leans foward and claps her on the shoulder.

“If he decides to show up in your dreams again, tell him hello from all of us.”

And with that, she leaves her good-sister and niece alone.

Meera plays with the bit of twine she still wears tied to her wrist. Catelyn is snuggled up against her chest, and she stares off into the candle lit darkness.

Then she tilts her eyes to the ceiling, sticks out her tongue and crosses her eyes.

“Quit lingering,” she says out into the void, “Go to the day I left if you must. I’ll be back soon enough, if only for a little while.”

Bran’s mind chuckles deeply. He could never get much past her.

Opening his eyes for a moment in the Godswood, just long enough to make sure he hadn’t frozen in place, he takes her advice and slips back to the morning before she’d left for Storm’s End.

 Podrick and Brienne took turns on guarding his chamber at night, and then helping him get up in the morning before ending their watch. The chambermaid who handled this part of the keep didn’t come in until later in the morning. Being quite elderly, Bran wasn’t even entirely sure she knew when one monarch changed to the next.

    In practice, this meant Meera could stay with him most nights into the morning without arising whatever gossip would have made it’s way about the keep, even if her few things were kept in the mostly unused chamber that Gilly supposedly slept in. The castle staff was much smaller than it had been in years before, and most of them found King Bran as off putting as the citizens.

It was his favorite part of the day. It was somehow both so different, and just the same as the nights north of the wall when they’d had to sleep practically on top of each other for warmth.

This morning, in particular, he has one of her thighs on one shoulder and his mouth pressed up against her cunt.

One of her hands twists in his hair and he smiles against her.

He licks a stripe up the center of her, and is rewarded with a whisper of a moan. She’s not especially loud, so every one that he draws from her is a victory. He can do this as well as any man, legs or no legs, he thinks.

The visions had told him that some men thought this act below them. They were morons, Bran thought, morons who were missing out. He had long since ignored any knowledge gained in this area from the visions, and just let Meera show him what she’d figured out for herself, and they worked out the rest together.

Her moans get quicker and breathier as he works his tongue faster against her flesh. He feels her quiver and her hand wrench the handful of his hair as she comes underneath him.

And it’s with a satisfied smile, that he takes one of her hands she offers to help pull him back up to the head of the bed, and then gently rolls him onto his back.

“You make me feel selfish sometimes,” she says, head laid back, chest still heaving.

“Wouldn’t do it if I didn’t like it,” he assures her. He reaches down to lay one hand of the small swell in her lower abdomen, “Believe it was you attempting to return the favor was what got us into this situation.”

With a twitch of her lips, she leans over and kisses him, before sliding one leg over and gently lowering herself onto him.

Her movements are languid, still tender from her earlier orgasm. She rests her forearms on his chest and watches him.

“It’s not fair that I have to leave already,” she says, pouting.

His hands find her waist.

“You’re too skinny, people will notice too fast.”

She sighs deeply.

“I know, but I still don’t want to.”

Even as her movements pick up speed again, she still won’t stop touching him, his shoulders, his chest. He had tried to explain to her before that most of the pleasure he got from this was watching her, but she never wanted to stand for it.

When she bends to press a kiss just below his ear, he whispers to her,

“My queen.”

His words make her twitch and clench, and when one hand wanders to twist a nipple, she comes again, softly this time.

Afterwards, when she lays on top of him, face against his chest, he tells her,

“Someday I’ll be able to leave. Someday this damned place won’t need a king anymore and we’ll be able to launch that godsdamned throne into the sea. Then I can come north with you and we can leave all of this behind.”

 It’s a good dream, they both agree. As much as they both know it’s just a dream, especially in the depths of winter.

“Your grace?” he hears in the Godswood, breaking him from his memory. It’s Podrick.

“It’s getting late your grace, are you ready to come in?”

Bran nods, and lets him push his chair through the snow and back into the keep.

And behind him, unnoticed, a snowdrop pokes it’s head through the ground.

[jumpchain-drop]

Chapter 4.1: 0.0 Years

“….aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”

SPLASH!

Ow.

“...ey… Hey… Hey…! Wake up…!”

My head was swimming as I slowly came to. I was soaked; I had washed upon a beach on a very green-looking piece of land. Various flotsam and jetsam were on the beach, though my eyes were drawn to the piece in the direction of the voice.

It was the closest, and it was a little bronze cage. Inside was a red ball of light with... fluttering wings.

“You’re awake!” came the voice from before. “You’ve been there for… I dunno how long, I was asleep when you washed ashore. Can you get up?”

“Just… give me a minute…” I got up. I don’t know why I was having trouble with this. For almost the last every ten years, I’ve been dropped roughly three times in a span of a week to a similar situation. Then again, even though I was winded after each of those, I was never hurt, and the voice said it was for his amusement. Maybe those were like… slapstick or something? I’m tangenting.

A few moments later, I got up to my feet and opened the cage door. The light inside flew out and fluttered around me joyously.

“Freedom!” it shouted. “Oh, I’ve been in that cage for weeks! I love getting to stretch my wings again!”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” I mumbled as I looked around at all the other stuff on the beach. On closer examination, there weren’t cut pieces of kelp or chunks of driftwood – they didn’t even seem to be damaged. The bottle looked the most like trash, and it had what looked like some kind of coupon inside it. Some strange red gem. A box that vaguely resembled a camera. A large shoulder bag, with the ends of apparently two scrolls sticking out, one a dull red and the other a more vibrant crimson. A fancy-looking hourglass, and a large old-looking mallet with an equally-old-looking shield right next to it.

“Oh, right, I haven’t introduced myself yet!” the ball stopped in front of me. “Thanks for letting me out! The name’s Twig! I’m a spirit of power – a fairy!”

I think I was mouthing “fairy” when it dawned on me. I turned to mouthing “Zelda” as I snapped my fingers.

I turned and looked around all my surroundings. Beyond the beach spread a vast ocean, stretching all the way to the horizon in every direction I could see it in.

Wind Waker.

I was in freakin’ Wind Waker.

“...So, are you going to tell me your name, or…?”

“O-Oh, my apologies,” I said, returning my focus to Twig. “I’m… Robert, sure, why not. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Same, Robert. You’re a weird one and really spacey, but you still rescued me, so I’m gonna stick around. So now that you’re awake, what are you gonna do now?”

“Well, for starters...” I looked around at the items that littered the beach. “I’m going to clean this up.”

“Is it all yours?”

“Knowing my life as I do, it probably is.”

“Good enough for me! I’m pretty strong, so I’ll help how I can!”

I rolled my eyes, but I appreciated the sentiment. I decided to get the bag first, for the obvious reason one gets a bag when collecting a lot of stuff.

When I picked the bag up, I found something was half-buried in the sand underneath it. “A giant scale…?”

Twig fluttered over to look at it. “I know this. This is one of the scales of the Sky Spirit, Valoo. Boy, you must be pretty mixed-up to be a Rito and not recognize it.”

“Wait, I’m a what?” I blurted out, but already my memories were stirring. I put my face to my hands and found my beak. How’d it taken me this long?

Felt my arms; no wings. Wait, were Rito wings always out? I reached for my memories of playing Wind Waker HD, but… dang, I played a lot of games just to experience them. Pokémon was something that was popular enough with me, and Banjo-Kazooie was important to my childhood (plus I had strategy guides for it), so I was able to recall details about those worlds with little hassle. But Wind Waker? I hadn’t played it until it came out on the Wii U; hell, I hadn’t played any Zelda game with anything resembling competency until the 3DS. I knew the critical path at a macro level and what each of the dungeons and bosses were, as well as the major characters, but I was drawing a blank on pretty much anything else.

“Seeing how out of sorts you are,” Twig said, “I probably need to fill you in on what should probably be obvious.”

“...Yeah, probably.” I mean, I wasn’t making any progress on my end.

“The first step to improvement is acknowledging there’s a problem.” He fluttered around the scale as he continued. “So, the Rito worship and attend to this super-old dragon, Valoo, that’s about as old at the ocean itself on their home on Dragon Roost Island. In exchange, the Rito get some of his scales. They do some kind of ritual with them, and that lets them grow wings so they can fly and get from island to island without a hitch.”

Right, that was coming back to me a little. “’Some kind of?’” I pressed.

“Hey, I don’t know everything or anything!” Twig answered, jerking up and down in an angry manner. “I have no idea how they use the scale. If you want your wings, we’ll probably have to take it to Dragon Roost Island and ask.”

“Works for me,” I said, putting the scale in the bag. Shouldering it – which was actually closer to the small of my back, but same effect – I started to pick up everything else. Twig actually wasn’t joking when he said he could help, but as he struggled to pick up the camera-box, it was clearly closer to exaggeration. I appreciate the thought.

When I picked up the hourglass, I took a moment to look it over. The sand that filled its bottom half reflected the sunlight with a beautiful gleam, looking less like sand and more like gold.

“Hey, Twig, you know anything about this?”

He fluttered around it for a bit, examining it. “I’m not sure… It feels familiar in some way, but I can’t put my finger on it. It definitely looks like a valuable treasure, though.”

“I’m kinda all about valuable treasures,” I said. “So I’m definitely holding onto it.”

It wasn’t too much longer before everything else was in there. I ruffled through everything and found that already inside the bag was the notebook. I wasn’t surprised in the slightest at this point. Like every other time, there was writing on the first page.

Layer 4:

You have ten years in this world.

Eight of your companions have been imported into native forms.

Two of your companions have landed in an alternate world. You will eventually be able to reach them.

Space will be made in the warehouse to ensure all purchased items will fit.

Entertain me.

“‘Ten years in this world’?” Twig asked from over my shoulder. “Are you sick or something?”

“No, I’m not- Wait… You can read this?”

“Yeah. Should I not?”

That was weird. As a test, I had previously shown the notebook to a couple of the Gray Jinjos, who unlike Team Firma I was certain were capable of reading English. However, they couldn’t make anything out but incomprehensibly cryptic scribbles, even the parts I had written myself – and my handwritng’s not that shit.

“No,” I answered. “I can’t explain it, but only me and a certain few people should be able to...”

Wait.

What the heck.

I just got here, I haven’t even seen a door yet, much less a locked one, and I’m pretty sure even without flawless memory I wouldn’t forget putting a fairy in a stasis pod.

“Hey, there’s more writing now!” said Twig. I looked back at the notebook.

Oh right, forgot to mention. One new companion has been chosen as able to join you without use of the stasis pod. You have the means by which to identify them. If they agree to join you, they will do so automatically.

“Oh come on, I’m not even allowed to choose my team anymore…?!” I grumbled.

“From everything you’ve said, I’m sure it’s talking about me,” Twig said. “Do you not want me, or…?”

“No, no, it’s not like that,” I said quickly. “Just… I’ve been jerked around a lot. I’ll explain more later, but… welcome to the team, Twig.”

“I won’t let you down, Robert!” His true fairy form was faintly visible in the light he admitted, and I saw him salute. “So, what’s the first order of business?”

“Well, if six of my companions are in this world, maybe some landed on this island too. Let’s go look for them.”

“Alright, I’ll follow your lead.”

“First off, any idea where we are, Twig?”

“I believe the residents refer to this place as Windfall Island. Dragon Roost is due east of here.”

“Wings are item number two. Let’s start exploring this place.”

Windfall Island is a large (for this world’s standard) and busy place, so finding stuff that was relevant information wasn’t easy. Most the Hylians – even though they don’t seem to call themselves that now – were nice enough, even though they kept assuming I was lost while trying to deliver the mail. To be fair to them, I was essentially carrying a mail bag around with me, but it made trying to figure out things that weren’t where people’s houses were a bit of a pain.

The first major bit of news I learned was that I was the second Rito on the island that no one had seen before. The first was female, a bit younger-looking than I did, but dressed in some expensive-looking clothing. She was last seen standing on the high cliff overlooking the ocean, the one with some kind of tombstone on it. For lack of better options, I decided to check it out.

I first saw her from behind when we got there. I was in more traditional – standard, I guess – Rito tunic, according to Twig. She, on the other hand, looked almost like royalty. Her body was covered with this almost form-hugging white dress. There was a short red cape flowing over her shoulders, more of a mantle than a cape, I guess. Her actual body, however, was far from mature; she honestly looked more than a little like a girl playing queen. The main things counting against this was her more-than-shoulder length hair that was mostly white but the tips were dyed red, and the halberd she was holding.

I started the uphill approach towards her. “Hi there-”

“Not another step.”

I stopped less from the command than from the sudden cold tone of it.

“...I didn’t think you would find me so quickly,” she said after a moment. “I would have put more thought into my ultimatum if I did. But I guess it’s better to rip that bandage off quickly.”

“That expression is stupid,” I blurted out. “Anyone that thinks it’s a better idea to rip a bandage off quickly doesn’t know how to take it off without uprooting more than a couple hairs underneath it.”

“I don’t think mouthing off to her is going to make her act nicer,” said Twig.

“Your new friend is right, Robert.” She started to turn around, revealing distinctive golden eyes.

“...Anita?”

“Correct.”

“...You look very nice.”

“Thank you, but flattery will not help you.”

“If she’s your friend, she’s kind of a mean one,” Twig whispered.

“Hmm, yeah...” I muttered. “She’s always been a little aloof, but...”

“It’s rude to just mutter to yourself while having a conversation,” Anita butted in.

“Doesn’t seem like much of a conversation to me,” I said. “What’s with the attitude, Anita?”

“What’s wrong with it? It’s a perfectly fine response to what’s been done to me.”

I wanted to ask what she was talking about, then I remembered Manaphy being Piddle before, as well as the idea of the two Terras that became one. I guess when you picked any arrival option besides the ones I was seemingly always shunted into, you got a background and memories to go with it. Problem was I had no idea what those backgrounds could be.

“OK,” I said. “I don’t think we’re getting anywhere like this. How about we take a deep breath, assume I’m an idiot, and you explain your perspective on this?”

“...Very well,” she replied. “But any sudden moves and I will not hesitate to strike.”

“Fine by me.”

She turned back to the cliff a little and took a deep breath of the sea breeze before facing me again. “Indeed, my name is Anita. I was born thirteen years ago on Dragon Roost Island. I’m sure even the idiot you want me to assume you are knows about their own species?”

“I know about the Rito,” I answered. “They need a scale from the great dragon Valoo to fly.”

“They also operate the mail system around the Great Sea,” Twig added. “Taking everyone’s letters and packages from the mailboxes, taking them to Dragon Roost to sort them, and then delivering them where they need to go. It’s a noble profession, and it helps connect those that can’t leave their islands.”

“Unfair, isn’t it?” Anita said suddenly. “A whole race dedicated to serving other races – and as the Korok don’t use the mail system, only the Hylians benefit. Only the line of attendants to Valoo himself do not have to undergo a mail Rito’s training. As a hatchling, I often wondered why the Rito would allow themselves to be used like this, so I dug through our history, even the parts that the chief would rather everyone not see. What I found blew my mind: the Rito didn’t always exist. Long ago, the Great Sea was a vast land, a kingdom, and living in that land was the race we once were: the Zora.”

“I’ve heard about that,” I commented. “When the Great Sea rose, the Zora tribe went onto land and evolved over time to develop wings, probably with Valoo’s help, and in turn became the Rito. Which never made sense to me – the Zora were aquatic creatures, and given the indication of ‘sea Zora,’ I was of the impression they could also live in salt water. If anything, the land turning into a sea would it make it better for them.”

“Well, despite being an ocean,” Twig spoke, “the Great Sea is remarkably hostile to intelligent life. We can still drink it after filtering, but the only ones that can live in it are the Fishmen. The occasional dumb monster get by just fine too. Any other living thing, though, can only swim in it for about thirty seconds at most before sinking like a rock, no matter how good a swimmer they may be. Almost as if the Sea itself was pulling them into its depths. Almost no one goes swimming at all anymore. Not voluntarily, at least.”

“Oh gheeze…” I winced. That was fucking terrifying to consider.

“The fairy speaks true,” Anita said, almost hugging her halberd to her. “Such a shame the Zora had to become these forms to survive. Their swimming was of great importance to them. Did you know that the Zora did not wear clothing? So dedicated to swimming they were, they wanted nothing to hold them back. They often had extra fins to give the impression of clothing. The only Zora to have clothing was the Zora king in traditional garb of red cloak, who was often extremely bloated and unable to swim anyway. I had to model my dress after the appearance of one of the past Zora queens.”

“.,.Boy, you’ve sure researched this a lot.”

“It has been my obsession.” Her eyes certainly seemed mad enough when she said it. “So much about them was washed away in the flood that created the Great Sea. So much lost… So much to discover. And once I have it all… I’ll be able to restart the old rites… and bring the Zora back.”

“Given the whole ‘ocean that hates sapient swimmers’ thing going on here-”

“Silence!” She brandished the tip of the halberd at us just only a second longer than it took to confirm I wouldn’t continue talking. “The Zora will return, I will make sure of it. No matter the cost. What cost could there be left, given I was banished from Dragon Roost for my research and for hoarding any Zora artifact I could find, including this halberd. And once they have returned, I shall be their new Queen in their gratitude. I know I will fit the role; I know that I am a reincarnation of a Zora Queen. It’s in my very soul to retrieve my people.”

Wisely, I decided to think to myself how absolutely deluded she sounded about that instead of saying it out loud.

“Or at least I thought I knew,” said Anita, her voice seeming to switch tracks entirely, “until at dawn today, when I suddenly woke up to the truth of my reincarnation. That, in a previous life, I was a monster under the ownership of an unworthy young man, and not the Queen I was sure I was. A life that I have full memories of as if I’ve lived it myself. As you might imagine, this makes me very upset. Especially at the one that I am now certain is the reincarnation of that young man.”

I could feel Twig looking at me.

“...Given my circumstances, ‘reincarnation’ might not be the right word...” I eventually said. My concern for my life was probably pretty apparent given none of what I said, well, said so.

“Regardless!” She swept her halberd in a large gesture. “While I still have my goals as the Anita I am, the Anita I was – or perhaps also truly am – has her own will to carry out, and seeing as it involves raking you over the coals, I’m inclined to go along with it.”

“Boy, Robert, your choice of friends leaves something to be desired,” said Twig.

“Shut up, Twig.” I groaned. “The hell you going on about? Why the hell would you – either of you – want to be so antagonistic?”

“Then I’ll be as clear as I can manage,” said Antia. “I’ve listened to all the stories you’ve given us inside that warehouse. You and everyone else you brought along and changed, enough accounts and evidence of the truth. You’ve been going around for three decades, doing crazy things and fighting monsters and getting treasure. Meanwhile, I’ve known you for a total of a little more than two weeks, as the fourth trainer in a row to win my Ball in a card game.”

I felt my soul wince at that. Only now, after Terra’s talk on how Pokémon view equality, did I truly realize that winning a Pokémon from a hand of poker would probably be the worst way to get a new trainer from the Pokémon’s perspective. “You don’t think I’m your equal. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“At least you have that figured out,” she replied, her words too bitter to even really be sarcasm. “I am done with being another trophy. So you’re going to prove to me that you are my equal, my way.”

“And what way is that?”

“I made a deal with the voice in the elevator,” she said. The dangerous vibe that surrounded her was the only thing keeping my temper regarding the asshole voice from shooting my mouth off. “I selected my choices towards its fulfillment. You have these ten years to show me you are worthy of my loyalty. If you don’t… I’m staying here.”

“Staying here…?” My eyes widened with the realization. “You don’t mean…?”

“I do. Your little jaunts across the universe continue without me.”

I wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to… hate? No, it wasn’t that. Pokémon didn’t broil themselves like that. She wanted me to prove myself her equal. She was challenging me. “Fine. So how am I supposed to prove myself then?”

“It’s quite simple,” she answered. “I have plans to carry out. Selfish plans that will no doubt ruin many lives in these oceans. You will have to stop me. But I’ll keep getting stronger; I don’t think you can do it.”

“If it’s a battle you want, I can give you one,” I said, getting into a fighting stance. “Right now. I’m a Pokémon too now. I’m pretty sure I could give you more than a run for your money.”

“Oh I’ve no doubt you’d win,” she said, not breaking her composure once. “Which is why you have to prove your dedication further than a mere single battle. It would not show the strength you’ve claimed to use in those two decades I slept through. No, foiling a much larger campaign is the only way. Of course, it wouldn’t surprise me if you declined, if you decided my value to your team isn’t worth the effort of taking me down.”

“...” What could I say to something like that…? Did she… really think I didn’t care…?

“But if you do truly value me… come and get me.”

And then, before I could react, she hopped backwards off the ledge.

“Anita!” I ran over to the ledge shouting, when it was crested by a large puff of red smoke as a red-and-white streak shot curving into the sky. The resulting burst of wind knocked me to the ground and sent Twig reeling into a nearby wall. By the time we recovered, she was gone.

“...OK,” Twig said, dusting himself off. “I am so out of the loop here that I’m completely off the necklace. Nothing about that made sense. What the hell is your deal? And her deal? And the general deal? And what the hell is a ‘Pokémon?’”

I was still getting my thoughts together when Twig’s interjection broke me out of my thoughts. “...Let’s get something to eat, to discuss it over. There’s a good bit to cover...”

“...So, you’re from another world where this world is some kind of game. And you weren’t always a Rito, but a human – which is like a Hylian but less pointy ears. And the voice of a jerk in an elevator because I don’t feel comfortable with the word you used is doing all this, they take you to a different world every ten years, and you use the notebook to talk to them.”

“That’s the short of it.”

“...Wow. And I thought the entire idea of this place not always being an endless ocean was farfetched. I mean, there’s the legend on the wind about the kingdom that disappeared, but I never thought we were right on top of it.”

We were – well, I was – sitting on the edge of a fountain the most town square-like spot in Windfall, eating a seaweed wrap. It took me awhile to get somewhat used to the taste of seaweed. Twig was used to it already, and had the occasional nibble from it.

I swallowed my latest bite. “If it’s ever too much for you, it’s fine if you jump ship. Wordplay not intended.”

“No, I think my curiosity insists on me sticking around. Besides, you could use my help against that girl Rito.”

“How so?”

“All we need to do is find a few gems like the one you have already!”

“The gem?” I asked. I ruffled through my bag a little before pulling out the small red gem.

“Yeah, that one!” Twig bounced happily. “That’s a Power Gem! See, you can see the mark of Power on it!”

I turned it over. Indeed, there was some wavy white mark on it.

“As a spirit of power, I can make use of these Gems!” he continued. “Once you have enough, I can absorb the energy within them, and I’d be able to grant you new strength!”

“I’m certainly going to need all the strength I can get if I’m going to win over Anita. Do you know where the others are?”

“If I knew where they were, well, I certainly wouldn’t be in my current state. I know there’s twenty altogether, but that’s it.”

I sighed. “That makes sense enough… First one of my companions goes rogue for perfectly reasonable reasons and now this treasure hunt… Not that I don’t like a good treasure hunt, but I’m feeling overwhelmed… I really could use one of my girlfriends right about n-”

It was at that moment the second major bit of news suddenly attached itself to my face. In the resulting shouting and flailing, I fell backwards into the fountain with a large splash.

“Robert!” said the leaf-faced creature that stood in front of me. “I’ve been looking all over the island for you!”

“Personal space!” I shouted, lifting the deceptively-lightweight living branch off me. “Who are you?”

“I’m Terra!”

“Terra?!” I brought the creature back down to hug her. “Boy I’m glad to see you- OK I’d like to get out of the water now.”

During the time I was drying off, we exchanged situations and got everything sorted out. First of all, Terra was now going by the name of “Elmily,” as the Korok (a species I’m like half-sure I actively tried to ignore the existence of back home) had names derived from trees. The second was that she already had an idea of what Anita was up to already. Due to being an elevator and not a meeting hall, the voice had each of the eight imported companions come in and make their builds one at a time, and it was very generous with talking about what those before had selected. As such, she had a general idea of what everyone before her was doing, which turned out to consist of the five teammates I had prioritized. It also turned out this time the voice was deciding the starting location for each companion individually of my own, at random.

First new thing we confirmed was, far as she knew, she was the only Korok and Anita and I were the only Rito; everyone else had chosen to be a Hylian.

“If two companions landed in a different world,” she said, “one of them was probably Maria. Her location was selected to be ‘World of the Ocean King.’”

“Ocean King...” I pondered for a bit. “I think that name came up in the sequel, Phantom Hourglass. It’s certainly not in the Great Sea, I’m certain of that.”

I heard Twig mutter “Phantom Hourglass…?” but Elmily continued talking before I could respond.

“One of those after me must have gone there too. Though I’m mostly concerned with one location in particular...”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, Cody landed on Outset Isle...”

“I think that’s the tutorial island, he’ll be fine.”

“...but Bolt and Shadow landed someplace called ‘Forsaken Fortress.’ And judging by how your eyes are bugging out, my concerns are well-founded.”

With that knowledge, the matter of transportation became very important. Turned out everyone had gotten a free boat, but the non-Hylians also had a flight item – i.e. Valoo’s scale – that could be received for free by foregoing said boat. All three known non-Hylians had done so, including me, and I had no idea how to use mine. Twig wasn’t big about flying across the ocean by herself, so Elmily offered to fly her Deku Leaf across to Dragon Roost Island while the wind was blowing that way and find a local adult Rito that could help me with that while also not asking too many questions.

Before she did that, though, we came to the consensus that “Robert” really wasn’t enough of a Rito name to pass casual inspection. After a couple hours of debate and getting as much info about Rito names out of Twig as we could, we eventually settled on “Naskema.” Hopefully it doesn’t mean anything bad.

Year 1, day 2: Elmily has come back with a Rito named Quill. He’s a little surprised that someone as old as I am hasn’t already undergone gotten my wings, but true to the plan, he didn’t ask too many questions. Guess I owe him a favor or something for this? Honestly, I’m already tired of this island and want off it already. At least it has locked doors and I found enough rupees hammering down the grass to pay someone to build a doorframe for me, so it wasn’t like I was sleeping outside.

(The new plate has an icon that looks like the Triforce with the Wind Waker overlaid over it and I think I see a hint of lime green; it’s only day 2, so the colored wedge is practically invisible. As well, the only light on the roster board that’s red is Bitbit’s, so everyone else was imported, and the two Terra didn’t know the builds of were Tooty and Manaphy.

I tried calling in Bitbit like I did Shadow before to make the trip instead of Elmily, only for nothing to happen. When I demanded answers to the notebook, it replied I could only have up to eight active companions by default. That sucks, missing a flyer in this setting, but there’s not really anything I can do about it.)

In the intermediate time, I more examined my belongings and found that the two scrolls in the bag are treasure maps! X marking spots and everything! Spots that are all in the ocean. I’m certainly not going swimming in the Psychonauts death water, but surely a sea-faring society such as this has access to some kind of salvage mechanisms that could be used.

Quill’s getting the necessary things set up in the other room now. Hopefully this will be quick and painless.

Year 1, day 8: THIS WAS NOT QUICK AND PAINLESS

I AM NEVER GROWING WINGS EVER AGAIN

[drinkupmepirates]

The Will and Elizabeth love story is so underrated, it often amazes me how strong and pure their love is. At the very beginning, they met when they were 11, when Elizabeth ALREADY saves his life by hiding any evidence that he's associated with the term piracy, by hiding his medallion. And she keeps that for years, not only because of her inner secret love for piracy but also because it reminds her of him. Will from his side, suffers from his uncoditional love for her which he can't admit because she's the rich high class wealthy governor's daughter girl and he's just a shy humble simple blacksmith so he hides his feelings forever. Then the curse of the black pearl events happen where Lizzie says that she dreamed of him (my heartt💓💓💓), he's all like "Elizabeth goes free!" and "I'd die for her!", he takes care of her wound, she gives his name as hers to barbossa but "she doesn't know why" pff, and she has that huge ass smile whenever she sees him and after saving each other's lives, Will tells Elizabeth how he feels in front of her dad who happens to be the governor and her fiancé who happens to be the commandor. She takes his side, shows her feelings too and they live happily together. After some time, their wedding day arrives which got interrupted and now bloody William must leave to find the way to save her. But his little bonny aise goes to find him in a trip where she shares some time with the notorious fellow pirate Jack Sparrow. He dies and in the trip to find him Will worries cause he thinks that Elizabeth is in love with Jack. So they go through the no talking/how-can-I-trust-you break up. And after somes emotional rollercoasters, they realize that they're too crazy for each other to have arguments like that and Will comes up with the question: "Will you marry me?" (!!!!!!!). And ofcourse she accepts so they're getting married. On a ship. In the middle of a fight. Created by the sea goddess Calypso. While people are being killed right next to them. Sick. So they spend the happiest five minutes of their lives until (tears) Will gets killed. Lizzie devastated and heartbroken lies next to him, screaming and crying. But then, boom. He lives. But he has to pay the biggest price. To be away from her forever "and every ten years he could come ashore to be with the one who truly loves him" for just a day. Shit. And afterwards there's the most beautiful scene in the history of cinematography where Will leaves Elizabeth and tells her to "keep a wether eye on the horizon". I'm not crying. You are. And what Lizzie does? She stays faithfull and loyal to him. She raises their son and they're both there when Will comes back after ten years. Imagine the meeting. OH GOD. And some years later, propably before the second meeting, their son helps to free Will from his curse. And here we are. Almost 20 years from when they could be together all the time. They see each other and they can't believe in their eyes. They run to each other and give the biggest hug with a relief sound in the breaths of both of them. Then they kiss and stay there like no one is watching, the the world just stopped. And now he can spend the rest of their lives together, happy. I mean, just imagine. They were 11 when they met and around 20 they were together. So that means that THEY WERE AROUND 40 WHEN THEY COULD ACTUALLY BE TOGETHER. FVJSNNJS THAT HURTS MY HEART SO MUCH, MY BABES ARE SO PRECIOUS AND RECKLESS AND BELONG TO EACH OTHER.

[starswornoaths]

FFwrites2018 Prompt #1: Submerged

Of all the things Uthengentle had planned for, slavery had not been one of them.

When he had stepped off of the airship to Limsa Lominsa, a trembling, terrified teenager only recently separated from his only remaining family the only thing he had thought to do was to seek out the Marauder’s Guild—it was what Serella had saved her every coin to get him here for, surely it would be a waste not to fulfill his dream like she had wanted him to?

The Marauder’s Guild, while pleased that he didn’t lack for enthusiasm, gently informed him that a boy of thirteen summers was hardly old enough to join. Come back in a year or two, lad, and we’ll get you started right and proper, the Guildmaster had promised him.

While wandering the causeways and parapets that made up Limsa Lominsa, lost and unsure of what to do with himself now, he stumbled on what he had thought was a golden opportunity: a ship had only just recently come ashore, and he overheard a deckhand commenting that there was too much work for too few deckhands.

Uthengentle had leapt at the chance to offer himself in exchange for modest pay – I just want enough money for food and clothes, he remembered desperately saying.

At the time, he thought the deckhands that looked him over were seeing if he would be a good fit for their ship—it made sense to him, at least. Now he knew better: they were sizing him up for sale.

You a Mhigan? One of them had asked him. He hadn’t known how to answer that—did that even apply, he wondered. Knowing what had become of his homeland, even someone young as he could understand how little worth that carried. Still, if where he was born was so apparent, honestly would serve him best, he decided as he confirmed his heritage. Hear you Mhigans are a hearty folk, the deckhand mused, eyeing Uthengentle as though he were a cow up for auction.

Desperate for a purpose— for his beloved sister’s gift to mean something, Uthengentle had talked up his strength, how he was strong as an ox and fast as a fox and that had been enough for them to present him to the Captain. Uthengentle had been thrilled, seeing a high and mighty leader of his own ship, dressed in fine armor and wearing the biggest, nicest hat Uthengentle had ever seen.

He had found it odd, at the time, when the Captain had said nothing to him as he circled like a shark in chummed water, took him by the chin and appraised his teeth, felt his muscles— like a prized sow, indeed.

You’ll do, the Captain had decided. You’ll do nicely, boy.

The deception of him being a simple deckhand had been maintained for the first week or so out at sea— he and maybe ten or so other boys ranging in age, race, and build had all been recruited to serve the ship in any capacity it had needed. The work had been hard, but fulfilling; pulling rope, hauling stock, and scrubbing the decks and weapons had been his first— and thus far only taste of the pirate’s life.

Then the beatings started.

When they were out in open waters and there wasn’t a speck of land on the horizon all pretenses suddenly and sharply stopped. The boys were roused from their sleep and hauled to the lowest deck of the ship, beaten until the youngest among them hadn’t the strength to cry. When they had all fallen silent, too weak and hurt to to aught but wriggle in pain, the Captain informed them that the ship was making for a black market trading hub— and they were to be their currency. 

Suddenly the examinations, the lack of questions, the lack of discussed pay, all of it added up— but too late. For there he sat, his legs chained to the hull of the ship, his face stained with tears, thousands of malms from anywhere. One of ten or so little boys that were made to grow up too fast, whose tears could well have threatened to capsize the boat.

Despite being one of the boys in the middle of their age range, Uthengentle was one of the sturdier kids, and was quick to shield the smaller boys from the blows, moot as his efforts might have been. In turn, he was simply beaten harder and for longer first, so he was left a bruised mess on the floor too weak to move while the crew moved on to the other boys.

After the third time, Uthengentle laid awake, his body aching under labor and abuse, and swallowed a hard pill: that if he were to survive— if any of them were to survive, he would need a plan.

He spoke to the boys older than him first, in hushed whispers as they kept their heads low and scrubbed at the deck floors with naught more than ratty cloth. Though reluctant, the older ones were willing— for what else did they have left to try? Getting the little ones involved took little more than asking them if they wanted a chance to go home.

Uthengentle might not have been the smallest of the boys, but he was the most fearless, and thus when he volunteered to steal charts and maps from the Captain’s quarters one night to plan their rescue, there was almost no complaint. While he was hardly a strapping and stalwart rogue like in the tales his beloved Da had read to them, he needn’t be; the crew always got belligerently drunk, every night without fail, and procuring the map with the ship’s charted course proved little harder than simply waiting for them to empty another grog barrel.

Two moons and waiting for the right moment, their night of reckoning came.

On the ship’s charted course, they were set to come near one of the primary routes of the Maelstrom— a risky endeavor, but the Captain was apparently counting on their unmarked sails and the cover of knight to slip by undetected.

So the boys set to fixing that— they ignited the sails.

By the time the crew had roused from the light of the sails being engulfed in flames and the sound of the deck lanterns being dashed against the wood, it was already too late for most of them; the boys had poured every flammable resource the ship was carrying on the deck, and the once proud and imposing galleon was little more than a sailing conflagration.

Uthengentle and the eldest boy— a Roegadyn of some seventeen summers— had helped the others jump ship one by one with something to buoy them; a plank of wet wood, an empty barrel, anything that would help them stay aloft until help hopefully arrived they had hoarded before the night had begun.

The Roegadyn boy had nearly leapt first when Uthengentle was grabbed. The smell of burning flesh completely overpowered Uthengentle’s senses, and he fought back the urge to pass out, even as he turned to face his assailant.

The Captain had him by the ankle, his entire body engulfed in flames. From what Uthengentle could see of his face, it had already begun to char in the fire. Looking upon the burning monster before him, Uthengentle could only feel sorry that the Captain’s hat had turned to ashes.

Mhigan bastard, you’ve ruined us all! The Captain shrieked. But ye’ll sink to the bottom of the sea with me!

Before Uthengentle could even think to scream, he was falling.

The Captain had rolled off deck and used his near literally dead weight to drag Uthengentle overboard. His ankle seared in agony where the Captain had touched him but the moment he fell into the dark waters, everything just felt cold.

He wriggled and kicked, even as he felt his lungs burn like the ship above them with the need for air but still the Captain held on. Submerged in the inky wine-dark waters Uthengentle felt his strength wane, bolstered by adrenaline as he had been carrying out their plan it was now exhausted in the aftermath. When he finally wrestled himself free from the Captain’s grasp— only after the burned man’s own strength had left him, along with his life— Uthengentle felt light headed, and couldn’t quite tell which way was up anymore. His head felt heavy, and all he wanted to do was sleep...

I’m sorry, Ellie, he thought sadly. His eyes stung, and a part of him wondered if he could tell if he had started crying, underneath the waves as he was. I guess I won’t be writing home after all. He wondered if she had gotten a letter to him already, waiting in Limsa Lominsa for him, never to be received. He wondered how many more she would send, thinking the fault hers. He hoped she didn’t blame herself for him dying: leaving had been his dream. He’d dove right in, submerged himself in everything that it was to be an adventurer, without knowing how to even swim among them, without knowing what dangers he had to look for in those murky waters.

And this is what he had to show for it. Nothing.

Just as he began to sink, just as he began to slip away, he felt another hand grab his arm.

It jolted him out of his thoughts, feeling another reach for him. He looked up at the source, surprised to see the Roegadyn boy half submerged and holding onto him firmly. Just as he thought his lungs were going to give out, the other boy hauled him up, up, up to break the surface.

Air never tasted so sweet as when he gasped and coughed and clung to his savior. 

“Can’t have ye dyin’ just when yer plan worked, ya madman!” The Roegadyn boy cheered, hauling Uthengentle onto a solid plank of wood. “We made it, ye hear me? We all made it! Look!” 

It took a bit of frantic blinking— and more than one swipe at his eyes with the back of his hand— but at last his vision came into focus, and he nearly lost it again when his eyes filled with tears as the sight: red coats and rescue boats.

“‘Hoy!” A voice from the dark called. There were lanterns— there were so many boats and so many people, so many Maelstrom soldiers circling, already pulling some of the younger boys out of the water. “Don’t ye worry now— we’ve got you!”

Uthengentle and the Roegadyn boy, shivering and barely able to grip the rope tossed to them, managed to get hauled into one of the boats, where they were promptly swaddled in blankets to stave off the chill.

“Yer alright now, lads,” that same voice, a low feminine tenor spoke to them. Uthengentle felt a cup being pressed into his hands. “Sip this brandy slow now— it’ll get ye warm in to time at all.”

A new kind of fire, warm and comforting like the fireplace in the home he no longer had, settled in his chest as the woman ordered the ships to make for their Galleon— to make for Limsa Lominsa.

The moons it took to get back to where his hell started showed him precisely why his Da had loved the sea— why he had been a pirate in his prime; tasting freedom on the wind as they sailed merrily reminded him of why he’d wanted to leave Gridania in the first place. It invigorated him, reminded him of why he wanted to live. He let life and liberty fill his lungs until it was all he knew once more, and swore to himself that he would never know anything else ever again.

It both surprised and didn’t surprise him to see that the Marauder’s Guildmaster awaited their ship at the docks; evidently, slave trading was the one thing Limsa Lominsa actively refused to abide by, and the ship he had joined had been on watch for it for some time before they had set sail. Lucky him.

Boys, I don’t rightly presume to know if any of ye ‘ave a ‘ome to go back tae. The Guildmaster’s voice boomed out. But ye’ve all more than earned a place at the Guild; I don’t care what age ye be— he looked deliberately at Uthengentle. Ye’ve all been made men far afore ye should ‘ave been. I can’t fix that— but I can help ye become better men, if ye like.

Every single one of them agreed.

Feeling his own axe in his hands for the first time felt much the same as breaking the surface of those dark waters not so many moons ago. And submerged in the darkness no longer, Uthengentle breathed a sigh of relief: he had made it.

His sister didn’t understand for some time after why, upon seeing the red of her Maelstrom officer coat, he had wept with pride, but that was alright; she only need know that he was proud of her.

[ryeheart-blog1]

your consenting mind

The world was a blur.

Lost in the depths of a drunken stupor after an evening of partying at a nightclub, Stan could hardly differentiate between objects and people, the only concrete shape being him. Him and all of his beauty, how his blue eyes glistened as they reflected incoming headlights.

His thin frame leaned forward, asking a question so adorably innocent and sweet, "Hey, could you turn the radio down a little? I think Mabel might be falling asleep up there." There was an unintelligible, on-the-brink-of-sleep protest, but Stan didn't register it, couldn't be bothered when he was too caught up in Maverick. His Maverick, whom he hadn't seen in so long, who'd left him so many years ago.

It hardly mattered, even when the smaller figure upfront clunked against the window, bolting away with a loud 'ow!'. Then, she was crawling onto the console and into the backseat. "Maverick," she whined, "I wanna use you as a pillow!' Something about the words, about his name sounded... off, but no heed was paid to the inconsistency.

"Christ, Shooting Star. You make this whole scene about wanting shotgun, now you're ditching?"

There was a second of hesitance before he was helping her climb over. "Okay, just… be careful, don't kick the gearshift." And once situated she was leaning into him, nuzzled comfortably in his shoulder as he slung an arm around her, pulling her in tightly.

Then, those gorgeously blue, stormy eyes were on him, searching him as they always could with ease. Seeing through him. "Stan," the way he said his name— it was tender, heartfelt and laced with concern, exactly like he remembered it. Nothing had changed, and it filled his heart with hope. "Are you alright?" His Maverick had his head tilted at him now, worry etched on his smoothed, delicate features. But god those eyes, those damn cerulean eyes would never fail to melt him.

"I'm always wonderful when you're around," Stan told him warmly, and his expression brightened with a blush and a timid lip-bite at the compliment. Oh, how couldn't he be? His Maverick had returned to him after all these years.

"Oh, uh—" he sputtered, seemingly holding back a laugh, "gosh, thanks? That's super nice of you. Kind of weird but still nice."

From the driver's seat, he could hear a growl. "Leave my Pine Tree alone, you old fuck." Pine Tree? That was a lovely name, so fitting of his Maverick. He loved nature and the outdoors.

"Come on, Bill." Bill? That didn't seem right. Shermie was driving tonight. Shermie was what he'd meant. The chide was gentle with affection, but really, that was no surprise. Maverick always had adored everyone and everything, almost to a ridiculous extent when he refused to engage in violence for a situation as dire as self-defense. "He's drunk out of his mind, just let him say whatever. He probably doesn't mean it."

Oh, but he did mean it. Every word. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked. "I meant every word, ya know?"

"That's," there was a thoughtful hum, then he shrugged, "flattering? I like it when you're around too." Ducking his head, he wore a faint grin. The mere sight made the wait worth his strife to Stan, it was as if the stars had aligned and it all had fallen into place. He couldn't count the number of times he'd dreamed of that smile, begging whatever heartless gods were out there to give him a chance to witness it again. "At first, I thought you were sort of intimidating, but I gotta hand it to you, you're not as bad as I thought." Stan broke into a smile, looking at his Mav– how refreshingly blue his eyes were, like the ocean on a hot summer day, and how a tuft of his brown hair hung just above his eye. It was adorable. Stan wanted to kiss him.

Blinking, he inquired, "Are you sure you're okay? You're looking at me and it's… been like a minute." A cough, and he was averting his eyes only to bring them back a moment later, shuffling closer to the best of his ability, hindered by the form leaning on him. "Jeez, you really drank a lot, shouldn't do that to yourself. Seriously, dude."

"Hun," Stan spoke quietly, leaning close to his face. "I'm fine, I just…" he leaned in more. "Wanna kiss… ya."

"Oh, man," he said with a breathless, maybe nervous chuckle, fluffing his brown hair as a slender hand ran through the strands. It had a bit more of a reddish tint than he'd thought it did, a possible trick of the lighting. "You are completely out of it." Turning away, he told Shermie, "I'm going to stay with Stan once we get back, okay? Just for a bit, like… to make sure he's okay and gets to bed without hurting himself." Although he continued speaking, the rest was muffled to Stan, only processing bits: "...overdid it tonight… doubt he'll even remember."

Shermie huffed, uncharacteristically displeased. "If he tries anything, I'm kicking his ass."

"You can come with, if you want..? Just thought you'd rather shower to get sand out of, um… places." Places? Stan knew his Mav liked to stroll along the beach and throw beached starfishes back into the ocean with a promise that he'd be there if they were ever washed ashore again. His and Mav's twilight walks together were some of his best memories, just chatting while his sweetheart lovingly tended to the world.

Stan leaned in closer, prepared to close the distance between him and his love, but he was jolting back, looking flustered beyond belief. Utterly stunned, a little frightened. His shoulders were tense and drawn together, and he kept stealing brief peeks at him but kept his attention trained forward, his handsome face deliberately out of reach. His Maverick must've been feeling shy, almost challenging him– he'd always been skittish with affection, and Stan was going to accept that challenge. "Look, I— wow. Mmmaybe… let's not do that."

"Ya know ya want it," Stan hummed as he leaned in again, trying to close that precious distance between them once more. Mav loved playing hard to get, and Stan knew his face would light up once he was attacked by kisses.

There was a hand pushed to his chest, forcing him to stay at arm's length. Though, 'forcing' was a stretch since Mav had never been the most muscular and wouldn't last under brute strength. "Stan, no. I know you're totally wasted, so… yeah, I get it, but I don't think either of us actually want this." Removing the hand from his chest, he used it to prod Shermie, appearing pleading. "Drive faster, Bill." That strange name again. "Pretty sure drunk Stan is trying to kiss me, so it'd be nice if we could get to the penthouse and y'know, never mention this again."

He was… being rejected? That couldn't be, Mav always liked being kissed. He was also against driving fast, his ideal speed limit was ten miles per hour everywhere. "Why are ya rejecting me, hun?"

A sigh resounded from the driver's seat, from Shermie undoubtedly. "Listen to him. He's so fucked he won't remember any of this."

"I know," he concurred with a nod, and then Stan saw it as he looked back at him— his eyes pools of anxiety and a pinch of sadness. "Sorry for rejecting you, man. I just… you get why, right? The only reason you're doing this is because you had too much to drink at that nightclub."

What? No, he was doing this because he was Mav, and Stan loved his Mav. ...Why was Mav looking different? His wonderful blue eyes had grown murky, a deep brown… and Stan pulled back in confusion. Even his hair was different, having a distinct reddish tone in his brown. It definitely wasn't the result of poor lighting. What the fuck?

Noticing, he… whoever it was, asked, "Whoa, what's wrong?" But they sounded so similar, it was so close and yet the pitch was wrong, it was higher, more strained. No. No, no, no. "Stan. I'm seriously worried about you, what's going on?"

He squinted, as if that would fix everything wrong with how Mav looked. "I'm seein' shit."

"Like, hallucinating?" His eyes widened with fear, throat working silently as if getting out a single word was a struggle. "It's alright," the tone suggested it was aimed to be reassuring, compounded when he grabbed his wrist, "I'm here and uh… I— I'll make sure you're okay, I promise, but you should stop drinking so much in the future."

Stan let out a laugh. "It's crazy, for a second it looked like ya had brown eyes."'

"Oh! Well, yeah, I do," he clarified jovially, a chuckle escaping. "I guess I've been told they're hazel in different lighting, but brown is kind of the consensus." What? No he didn't, he had a striking pair of blue eyes. Right? ...Oh, fuck.

No.

Fuck. Stan recoiled further, pressing himself back against the car door. This wasn't Mav, Mav was gone, his Top Gun-obsessed lover had left long ago. This was… this was Dipper. Concern flashed in the depths of his off-eyes, and he reached out to stabilize him. "Dude, calm down. It's not a big deal."

"You–" Stan had begun to speak, but the touch was by Mav. Instantly calming. He was certain the others didn't exist, that they were merely a figment of his imagination. Mav was the only real thing. "Shit. I think you're fuckin' with me, love bug. Your eyes are blue again. I always liked your eyes."

In another second, those eyes were darting nervously, something he rarely saw on his beloved. "Are you sure? I mean, I think they're mostly brown. Nobody's ever called them blue, so maybe it's too dark in here to see or something." There was a quiet puff of a laugh, his touch retracting to wring his hands together.

He'd moved closer once more, leaning into Maverick and enjoying the warmth of his body against his. He missed this so fucking much. "They've always been blue," he told him. "They're fuckin' pretty."

"Okay, thanks…?" he responded tentatively, then Stan could feel his shoulders lifting and falling in a shrug. "I'm just glad you're feeling better, man. You had me worried for a while, I thought we were going to have to call Ford."

Why'd they call Ford when he was with them? "Ford's on your lap, jus' wake 'im up."

A frown pulled the corners of his lips downward, and he was giving him the same critical stare. "No, that's Mabel," he spoke gently. "She fell asleep after we left the nightclub because she'd danced for like, two hours straight. Ford isn't here, that's why we went out in the first place."

He didn't know who that was, but he knew Ford wasn't big on dancing. Did someone give the guy too much spiked punch or something? Stan couldn't remember slipping him anything, it was so unlike himself. "Ford is here," he insisted. "He's right there. See?" He pointed at the sleeping figure on Mav. "Must've tired himself out thinking too fuckin' much."

Although he gave a blank, uncertain stare for several moments, his attention swapped to the front and he asked, "Shermie,” that was better, “what do I do about this? Like, is this how Stan normally acts when he's really intoxicated?"

Shermie huffed. He was surprisingly huffy today, Stan couldn't understand why. Shermie was always in a good mood. "He always acts like a drunken buffoon, ignore him. If he tries to kiss you again, I'm pulling this car over."

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Mav agreed. "If you don't mind, maybe I could switch seats? Honestly, I kind of wanted to be in the front to begin with, but Mabel stole it from me."

Stan blinked, looking at Maverick and all of his cuteness. He leaned in, moving to sneakily steal a kiss and he almost had it— before Mav seemed to flinch at the last moment, seeing what he was doing and turning his head so his lips collided with his cheek. "Seriously, I don't think we should be doing that." It was followed by a mumbled lamentation, something about wondering why drunk people always tried to kiss him.

To Shermie, he said, "Okay, so that just happened. Can we pull over now?" The car had already screeched to a stop, Shermie growling in the front.

Stan emitted a noise of distress, watching as his Maverick seemingly disappeared from his side. "Where'd ya go?" he called out quietly. "... Did you leave me again?"

"I thought I'd take the passenger seat? Then if you want, uh.. you have more room to stretch out and stuff, or maybe fall asleep. Yeah, that'd be good." There was the voice, but it still didn't sound quite right. Too tight, on the verge of cracking, heavy with anxiety. Quieter and leaning toward Shermie, he said, "Can this be the last time we go out with Stan if he's going to get totally drunk?"

Shermie leaned over to his Mav, planting a loud kiss to his lips, and Mav was reciprocating eagerly, finding his hand and giving it an affectionate squeeze. What the fuck? Why was Shermie kissing his adoptive—? Eh, sorta, if plucking the kid off the street counted. Didn’t matter, that wasn't like them at all. Shermie hardly liked Stan dating him to begin with, said it was too dangerous, too treading on the border of immoral. "Why are ya kissing him and not me?"

They parted, and it seemed Mav was surprised by the question. He'd better be, that was fuckin' weird and Stan didn't like it. "Because… we're friends with benefits? Not dating, or anything obviously, because we're just friends and nothing more."

"Why are ya friends with benefits with your adoptive dad?!"

"Okay, I… wait, what? I don't have an adoptive dad, and also, meet Bill. Bill Cipher, the guy in your crew, the huge jerk easily mistaken for a bumblebee?" The last bit was twinged with a moonstruck affection that made Stan's stomach churn. "He's my friend with benefits." Bill… who? He'd been so sure it was Shermie. His brother, their leader, the one who'd made it possible to be with Mav. Who was this Bill? Was this just a twisted dream, a nightmare come to haunt him?

No, he realized with a startling revelation. This was real. Mav was gone forever, like he was twenty years ago when he left the crew in favor of a domestic life. Stan had hoped… he'd hoped they could reclaim their lost relationship, that Mav would accept his love and enjoy an unofficial legal binding like Stan wanted to. He wanted to make him his, wanted to grow old with him until they died, but all of that was ruined, and nothing could fix it. Now… now he was left with his kids and shattered memories and dreams, and Stan could feel the tears welling in his eyes. "I wanna go home," he muttered, struggling to keep his voice even.

"We're on the way to the penthouse," Dipper said. "Bill's almost there."

Stan wanted to be there five minutes ago. Make that ten. He wished he never left the penthouse, that he never thought he saw Mav. "Can it go faster?" His question was a forced grumble, and it elicited Bill looking back at him.

"Not with your shitty attitude slowing us down. Stars, I wish Fiddleford hadn't given you that heart medication. It's made you less fun when you're fucking drunk."

"Bill, be nice," he said frowning. "I think everyone's just tired, so… I don't know, maybe give it a rest for tonight."

Stan heaved a sigh, leaning against the window as he closed his eyes. He regretted drinking so heavily around Dipper, and he didn't plan on doing it again. Would that last? Probably not. He didn't want to see Mav, he didn't want to feel this pain again, to know he couldn't… get back what he'd lost.

Trying to tune out everything else, the voices of Dipper and Bill talking were slowly fading away, becoming more distanced as he drifted off to sleep.

Exiting the shower, Bill made quick work of drying off and tossing on fresh boxers. He returned to his bedroom, flopping on the bed and wiggling under the sheets with some grumbling. What was supposed to be a fun night at the club had soured his mood with Stan hitting on his Pine Tree, and now he just wanted to snuggle up with his favorite person and sleep. Beside him, Dipper was on his phone, probably reading something nerdy like Huckleberry Finn or something stupid like Conservation Efforts Weekly. Bill would convince him to put that shit down and cuddle with him, one way or another.

But before he could manually deter his attention, Dipper was peering to him, cocking his head to a side. "Hey, do you feel better? I'm assuming the sand had to be kind of uncomfortable. Guess that's what we get for making out on the beach like lovesick teenagers, huh?"

Did he feel better? Bill didn't think so, not when Stan spent the drive home eyeing his boyfriend up. Dipper was his, and his alone– why didn't Stan get that? He wasn't his fucking ex. Mav was dead, had been dead for a couple months now, although Stan would refuse to acknowledge that. 'Maverick died twenty years ago in the crew,' he'd drunkenly argue on the rare occasion the subject arose. 'Maxwell is a stupid politician, they're not the same fucking person.' Such bullshit, especially now that there was no uncertainty over the dude's death. Robbie had made sure of that. "Yeah," he murmured. "About the sand, at least. Hey, cutie?"

Locking his phone and setting it aside, Dipper shuffled deeper into bed, drawing near. "What's up?" His curious gaze was transfixed on him, intrigued, trying to examine him and probably mentally entertaining hundreds of theories. Ugh, the kid thought too much, he could hear the gears turning from here.

"If Stan had tried going further, and I wasn't there, would you have stopped him?" An idiotic question, he knew, but he wanted to make sure. Stan was… unpredictable, when he was drunk, and it didn't help he seemed to be fucked up from combining his medication with alcohol.

"Bill," he was addressed through a reverberating laugh, "I did stop him tonight. You basically did nothing except grump and pout, so yes, it's safe to say I would have." Scrambling to rest partially atop him, Dipper brushed their noses together and murmured, "You're the only one I want. I know we're dating, but you're still my now-and-forever heterosexual life partner too."

Bill huffed, moving to wrap his arms around him, a hand drifting over his pajama shirt. "I'd better be, sugar." Seriously, he couldn't be without him, and he didn't want to be.

There was a pause before Dipper said, "Oh! Okay, so while you were showering… I made sure Stan was okay and all that, left him some water and ibuprofen for tomorrow but uh— when I came back, you were still in the shower, so… remember what you said earlier? About wearing the bowtie on my leg? I kind of got creative." Dipper leaned back, pushing the sheets with him to reveal his lower half, sporting his star-patterned boxers with bowties wrapped around each thigh, the bows facing outward and resting approximately midway between his waist and knee. He was biting his lip to stop from laughing, a delighted flush on his cheeks. Mm, he was pleased with himself for this.

"Oh, stars." He loved it, wanted to rip it off of him and make him his. "Cutie, you're on the highway to being fucked soon if you keep this up."

That finally got the laughter to spill over, and Dipper went with it, gracefully falling forward on top of him. "The mandatory clubbing turned this into a really long night, but honestly I… I kind of just want you to pin me down and do stuff, pick up where we left off earlier on the balcony and the beach. Is that weird? I'm pretty sure I'll crash immediately after if we do, though."

"What," Bill teased, eyeing him as he spoke. "All that dancing got you frisky, doll?" He loved it when his Pine Tree was horny, eager and flooded with desire.

"It's not that!" he protested, the redness on his cheeks flaring, and Bill swore he could feel the heat radiating off his skin from where he laid. "It's— it's just that after you shower, you look super good?" Dipper's voice raised with embarrassment, smile turning bashful. "Like, your hair is wet, you smell nice, I can see all your tattoos, and it reminds me of the first time I drew you. ...And then we ended up making out."

Bill chuckled, leaning in to connect their lips, and Dipper made a happy noise into the kiss as he returned it. "We'll be doing more than making out, doll." Probably just grinding, but Bill longed for the day they could take it further.

Pupils dilating, Dipper inhaled sharply in response and squirmed in his lap, Bill thrusting up against him. "Th-that's what you want to do?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "Okay." That was followed by a more intentional grind, this one slower and with less contact, meanwhile Dipper's gaze never left him. Watching, waiting. Bill narrowed his eyes, suddenly heaving himself to a side to knock Dipper onto the mattress, pinning him down and hearing a squeak probably more for show than out of surprise. That was confirmed when Dipper didn't protest or fight, instead wrapping his legs around him and pulling him closer, the silent encouragement to keep going.

There was a kiss on his shoulder, then on the junction of his neck, and he murmured dreamily, "I can't wait until you're… uh, y'know, actually… inside of me like this."

Bill couldn't wait either. He wanted to take him now, make him moan in pleasure as he was pounded into oblivion, but he knew Dipper wouldn't be ready. Not yet.

That was fine, Bill could wait longer. He'd just have a fun night with his boyfriend in the meantime.

[rustic-space-fiddle]

Ava Paige and the Immuni (Pt. 2)

Taggin’ peeps: @esthercantdraw @castielcaswatson @c-taylor-wanna-be-a-glader @newtieparker

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2. In Which the McQuarrie Children Join the Crew

Months pass. The children, instead of getting off at the next port, had decided to keep their ship, which they found was dubbed The Shining Gladius, and to one day exact revenge upon the pirates that had taken their childhoods and families from them. They taught themselves to sail, with Minho’s help, and soon, they became like a band of pirates themselves. They found weapons, and they raided tiny pirate vessels of their goods. Over time, they became rather proficient in the art of plundering and pillaging. Ever so often, they would pick up another orphan. Similarly, they lost a few. The sea is not for everyone. The children never did see the red sailed ship again, but they kept a watchful eye.

Now, on the twelfth of December, they arrived a tiny village off the coast of Scotland. It was snowing.

The sight that greeted them stung the soul, a burning reminder of their home. The village had been pillaged, and recently, by the look of it. While the rest of the children stared over the handrail, Anne was looking in the opposite direction. She grabbed Ellie’s arm.

“Look!” she exclaimed, pointing at the horizon.

“What?” Ellie asked, turning her head.

“A ship!”

“Where?!”

“There!” Anne jostled her, pointing excitedly. “Over there, near that bird! Do you see it?”

Ellie scrunched up her face, peering across the bright water. “I don’t see anything. Just snow.”

“It’s right there! A ship…” Anne continued to insist. “Just— use your eyes!”

“I am,” Ellie frowned. “And I don’t see anything. Are you sure you’re not going crazy?”

“I’m not,” Anne said, discouraged. Her hand fell; the ship had disappeared over the horizon. “Well, it’s gone now.”

Ellie glanced at her. She did seem serious. Besides, Anne had never been wrong in the past — she had very good eyes.

“Maybe we should tell Albert.��

Anne perked up at that, faith restored. “I think we’d better.”

They hurried to Albert, who was having a rather serious conversation wth Minho.

“…Who knows, but we probably shouldn’t risk it,” he was saying. “They likely didn’t leave any survivors.”

“If it’s the same guys, then why wouldn’t they? They left us, didn’t they?” Minho argued.

“Even if they did, who’s to say they’re alive now? Wouldn’t we see them?”

“Well, it sure would be easier to see them if you’d just let me steer us in—“

“Albert!” Ellie whispered loudly. “Alby!”

“Hold that thought,” Albert held up a hand to shut Minho up — the latter looking rather insulted — and turned to the two girls. “What is it?”

“Anne thinks she saw a ship,” Ellie whispered, not wanting to draw the other children’s attention.

Albert’s eyes snapped to Ellie. “That so?”

“Yes,” Anne nodded. “It disappeared, and it was pretty far away, but it was a ship.”

“Did it have a red sail?” Albert asked, so deathly serious that Anne was almost unable to answer.

“No,” she said. “Well, that is, I couldn’t see. It was too far, and the snow wasn’t helping much.”

Albert searched her face a moment more, then turned back to Minho, stoned faced.

“That settles it. We’re leaving.”

Minho seemed incredulous. “What about the kid?”

“We’ve got plenty of kids to worry about right here,” Albert stated. “We’re leaving.”

Minho stood his ground. “Alby, I’m going ashore.”

Albert looked him in the eye with face that said he would be saying much more if there weren’t so many little ears staring at them. ”No, you’re not.”

“I heard something, and I’m not leaving until—“

Just then, a small cry rose from the village. All heads spun around to see a little girl with dirty blonde hair, around ten or twelve years old, running up the pier. She tripped, picked herself up, and kept running, waving her arms over her head and screaming for all she was worth. Perhaps she was trying call for help, but all that left her mouth was shrill incoherency.

Minho ran to the side of the ship, leaped into one of the jolly boats, and lowered it into the water before Albert could say “Minho, no!”

Albert cursed as Minho rowed toward the pier as fast as he could. A few of the children cheered; one started crying, but most simply stood there, stiff as boards and dreading that pirates would rise from the water at any moment.

The girl quickly eased herself off the edge of the dock and dropped into the icy water, paddling to meet the rowboat. Minho grabbed her under the arms and dragged her aboard, then grabbed the oars and made for safety.

Albert seethed as Minho steered the alongside their vessel and was hefted back on deck. Minho carefully stepped free of the craft, cradling the girl close and gently setting her down on a wooden step. Anne and Charlie rushed forward with blankets and swiftly wrapped her as the rest of the children gathered around. Minho was breathing heavily, but that didn’t stop him from throwing Albert a self-satisfied leer.

Albert glared at him. “Wipe smug look off your face,” he growled, then knelt down in front of the little girl, resting a comforting hand on both of her tiny, shaking shoulders.

“Hey, little miss, it’s alright,” he said soothingly. “Hush now, we’ve got you.”

The girl looked at him, terror and desperation burning in her dark eyes.

“My— my brother,” she gasped in a small voice. “My brother— he’s trapped. He’s trapped in the well. I couldn’— I couldn’—“

She lapsed into silence.

“Your brother?” Albert prodded. “He’s alive?”

The girl nodded spasmodically.

“He’s alive and he’s trapped.”

The girl nodded again, then suddenly began to sob.

“I been tryin’ to get him out for hours!” she cried. “They came and killed mother and father— he was out back— gettin’ water for breakfast— they came and I tried to warm him— but— but when I went to him they’d shoved him down— and I tried to get him out! I did! I did! For hours— but I couldn’! And he can’t get out himself, he’s got—“

“Calm down, calm down!” Alby shushed. “Slowly now. How long has he been down there?”

“Hours and hours, I told ya, he—“

“Was he awake when you left?”

“I don’ know,” the girl remained. “I don’ know…”

She appeared to collect herself, her sudden burst of panic dying down and being replaced with a look of adamancy.

“You ‘ave to get him,” she conceded. “You’d be able to pull him out.”

“Us?” Albert hesitated. “I’m sorry, but that’s not possible. We cannot stay here. Those pirates could decide to come back at any minute. If they spot us, we’re as good as dead.”

The little girl, instead of melting back into tears, stood up, the blankets slipping to the floor. Her fists clenched at her sides, she stood fast as she stared the boy in the face.

“Get him,” she gritted.

“Miss—“ Albert paused. “What’s your name?”

“Elizabeth,” the girl informed him.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he sighed, beginning to lose his patience. “We can’t. I don’t mean to sound completely and utterly horrible, but your brother is most likely dead.”

Elizabeth’s face grew stony.

“I’m sorry,” Albert said earnestly, and he was. More sorry than he could say. “I wish we could help more, but with the pirates so close, it’s best if we—“

“Minho’s off again!” a child shouted.

Albert whipped around to see that yes, Minho has indeed stolen the dingy for the second time, and was once again rowing furiously for shore. It took every ounce of Albert’s willpower to not curse like a sailor in front of little Elizabeth.

“Bloody hell!” she shouted. “He’s going for him!”

Albert turned to look at the still-soaked girl in surprise. She reddened with embarrassment.

“Pardon,” she said.

Albert stared blankly at her, then reverted his gaze back to the shrinking rowboat and its thief, eager for Minho to return so he could punch him right in his ridiculous, reckless, stupid face. It’d be a miracle if they lived to see the end of the day. Granted, he’d thought that many times in the past, and yet here they were.

* * *

Minho leapt free of the dingy and pulled it ashore. In the distance, he could see The Shining Gladius, and knew Albert was planning the ways he was going to skin him when he returned. He’d deal with that in a bit. For now, he needed to find that little girl’s brother.

He ran up the beach, working his way past some burning barrels and scattered driftwood, into the remains of the village. It was tiny: two rows of crudely built houses on either side of a simple dirt road. It was quaint, and under better circumstances, Minho would have very much liked to live there. But now, with the smoking thatch roofs, debris strewn across the ground, doors torn off their hinges, and half dozen bodies lying, freezing in the road, it looked far less pleasant.

“Hello?” Minho shouted. “Aye!”

He realized that he had no idea what the boy’s name was. He probably should’ve asked the girl about that before he had jumped ship. Not that he would ever admit that to Albert.

A well! But a quick glance down told him that this wasn’t the one.

Keep looking. No more dead kids.

After tiptoeing around a few fallen logs, he reached the end of the main road, and still had not yet seen another well. He kept going; maybe there was another house beyond, a farm or some such. His theory was proved correct: there was one more house, or at least the remnants of one. The roof was burned away, and all that stood now was the stone chimney and the charred logs that stood as support in the corners. Minho‘s stomach turned. According to the girl, her parents were still inside. They were probably nothing more than blackened skeletons now. The thought of it reminded Minho of his own father, shot in the face with a pistol and kicked off the the dock into the water as if he were nothing more than a small pebble in their path.

Hush it, Minho reprimanded himself. Not the time.

Stowing his thoughts and moving around the house — to what had been the backyard — he found the well in question.

“Ey!” he exclaimed. He hurried to the edge, looking down the cold, slimy stone walls. “Hello?” he called down. “Anyone down there!”

A pair of dark brown eyes glanced upward. Exhausted, hopeless eyes set deep in a pale, gaunt face; forehead webbed with limp, wet hair. The boy, clinging the the wooden bucket and doing his very best to stay afloat. His face brightened when he saw his rescuer.

“O—“ the boy rasped, voice trembling with cold. “Oi! I’m here!”

“Just hang on!” Minho shouted down to him.

The boy winced at the deafening echo, then suddenly slipped into the dark water and out of sight. Any longer and he could drown.

No more dead kids.

Minho jumped into action, finding the end of the rope and wrapping it around his hands. He leaned over the well again; the boy had resurfaced, sucking in a breath of air and groaning through gritted teeth.

“Grab the bucket!” Minho ordered. No time to ask questions.

A tug on the rope, and Minho yanked, pulling the rope up as fast as he could. His arms burned with the effort but he kept pulling, until it felt as though he were pulling up up a calf instead of a boy.

After pulling for what seemed like hours, the boy’s head breached the top of the well — Minho let go of the rope and grabbed him by the shirt with both hands, bracing his feet and legs against the stone as the bucket fell back down, all without skipping a beat. He lifted him clear, and then his muscles gave out, just about dropping the sopping boy into the dirt. He leaned against the well, breathing hard. The boy just lay on the ground, shivering, eyes shut.

“Well, that worked,” Minho muttered.

The boy coughed. “Ta.”

Minho wasn’t sure what that meant, but he assumed it was an expression of gratitude.

“Anytime.”

~To be continued...

[newstfionline]

Venezuelans become Latin America’s new underclass.

By Anthony Faiola, NY Times, July 27, 2018

PORT-OF-SPAIN, Trinidad and Tobago--Free-spending Venezuelans once crammed store aisles in foreign countries famously uttering “dame dos”--”I’ll take two.” But the citizens of what was once South America’s richest nation per capita are now confronting a devastating reversal of fortune, emerging as the region’s new underclass.

As their oil-rich country buckles under the weight of a failed socialist experiment, an estimated 5,000 people a day are departing the country in Latin America’s largest migrant outflow in decades.

Venezuelan professionals are abandoning hospitals and universities to scrounge livings as street vendors in Peru and janitors in Ecuador. Here in Trinidad and Tobago--a petroleum-producing Caribbean nation off Venezuela’s northern coast--Venezuelan lawyers are working as day laborers and sex workers. A former well-to-do bureaucrat who once spent a summer eating traditional shark sandwiches and drinking whisky on Trinidad’s Maracas Bay is now working as a maid.

The U.N. refugee agency has called on nations to offer protection to the Venezuelans, as they did for millions of Syrians fleeing civil war. But in a part of world with massive gaps in protection for refugees, Venezuelans fleeing starvation at home are often trading one harrowing plight for another. Trinidad, for instance, has no asylum laws for refugees, leaving thousands of desperate Venezuelans here at risk of detention, deportation, police abuse and worse.

Sometimes much worse.

Luz, a 21-year-old Venezuelan single mother, came to Trinidad by boat with two friends in May, trusting a man with a soft Caribbean lilt who claimed to be from a Christian group offering aid and resettlement. Instead, she said, the three women were taken to a house and beaten before being abused by what appeared to be a pornography ring. Each woman, she said, was filmed while being raped by a series of men.

“We are helpless,” Luz said. “All because of the crisis.” She and the other two women escaped and are now in the care of a Catholic charity.

Carolina Jimenez, a senior official with Amnesty International, said, “Venezuela’s unprecedented situation has turned a domestic human rights crisis into a regional human rights crisis.”

“Countries in the region are not prepared to take in so many migrants and do not have the asylum systems needed to prevent job exploitation and human trafficking,” she said. “These people should be protected, but instead they are being taken advantage of.”

From the 1950s through the early 1980s, Venezuela was an economic dynamo--a nation with the world’s largest oil reserves and a beacon for immigrants from as far away as Italy and Spain. Then oil shocks and currency crises plunged the country into turmoil.

Hugo Chávez, who became president in 1999, adopted a form of socialism that resulted in many businesses collapsing or being nationalized. A purge of the state-run oil industry--a center of opposition to his rule--removed thousands of workers, who were often replaced by political supporters with little to no technical experience.

Venezuela’s slide turned into a free fall under President Nicolás Maduro--a former bus driver and union leader who inherited power after Chávez’s death in 2013. Critics say his government’s mismanagement and corruption and Maduro’s own ruthless bid to cement power--even as oil prices tumbled--have broken the nation.

Wealthy Venezuelans have been fleeing their homeland for years, landing in multimillion-dollar homes in Miami and Madrid. But as the economic crisis escalates, those leaving now are increasingly destitute, including members of a crippled middle class. The United Nations projects 2 million Venezuelans will exit their nation this year--on top of an exodus of 1.8 million over the past two years.

Those with means and visas are still venturing to the United States, where Venezuelans now make up the single largest pool of asylum seekers. Far more often, escaping Venezuelans are finding themselves in Latin American and Caribbean nations.

But in a region where many already live on the margins of society, governments are making it harder for Venezuelan refugees to stay.

Last year, Panama slapped new visa requirements on Venezuelans. This year, Colombia ended a program that allowed tens of thousands of Venezuelans to circulate in its border area. Chile welcomed tens of thousands of Venezuelans who showed up at its land border in 2017. But in April, it threw up new hurdles, requiring them to have a passport--something the vast majority do not possess--and to apply for asylum through Chilean consulates in Venezuela rather than at the border.

The regulations are “leaving Venezuelans with no choice but to work for pennies in the informal sector while being extremely vulnerable to exploitation and a high level of abuse,” said Geoff Ramsey, a Venezuela expert at the Washington Office on Latin America, a think tank.

Tens of thousands of Venezuelans fleeing to the Caribbean--where many island nations lack asylum laws--face particular challenges. Mary Anne Goiri, spokeswoman for Venex, an aid group on the island of Curacao, said Venezuelan migrants there were being brutally exploited. In one case, she said, a restaurant owner had been holding the cash savings of one of his undocumented Venezuelan workers. When the employee asked for her money back, the owner beat her and called the police to have her detained, Goiri said.

Up to 45,000 Venezuelans, aid groups say, have crossed the narrow straits in recent years to Trinidad and Tobago, a country of 1.4 million. As many as 160 a week are still making the trip.

Irregular migration is criminalized here, and Venezuelans who arrive on smugglers’ boats face possible detention and fines. In April, Trinidad sparked international condemnation following the deportation of 82 Venezuelans.

“We cannot and will not allow U.N. spokespersons to convert us into a refugee camp,” Prime Minister Keith Rowley said after the incident.

In Trinidad, diplomats and international agencies say, there is also evidence of a worrying trend: Desperate Venezuelans, particularly women, have become commodities to be bought and sold.

In Trinidad, the International Organization for Migration, a United Nations body, has received 23 suspected cases of trafficked Venezuelans in the past three months--compared with no Venezuelan cases last year, according to Jewel Ali, the organization’s local director.

They include victims like Luz--who said she lost one of her three children in April after the hospital in her Venezuelan town ran out of medication to treat her daughter’s bacterial infection. When she was approached to come to Trinidad, the offer seemed too good to be true.

“But I told myself, I’m going anyway. I’m not going to lose the chance for my kids to be better off just because I had some doubts,” she said.

The ordeal--five weeks spent captive and repeatedly filmed being raped--had “damaged” her, she said. At one point, Luz said, she and a friend were tied up and raped side by side.

“We were looking at each other,” Luz said, tearing up. “We would cry. And I would tell her, ‘Sister, be strong, you have a daughter.’ I would just keep repeating that.”

The case has been documented by the U.N. refugee agency as a potential act of trafficking. Alana Wheeler, head of Trinidad’s counter-trafficking unit, said authorities were looking into Luz’s case and could not comment on an active investigation.

In a telephone interview from a detention center for migrants in the Trinidadian town of Arima, a 34-year-old single father said he came ashore in November after selling his possessions to pay for passage. He was arrested in June. Although he produced his asylum documents from the U.N. refugee agency--which give him a legal right to remain in the country--a policeman demanded $700, he said.

“I told him I didn’t have the money, so they took my belongings, what money I had and detained me,” said the man, who spoke on the condition of anonymity for fear of reprisals from the Trinidadian authorities.

Dozens of Venezuelans are being held at the facility, he said. He said guards are serving food by throwing it to the floor and that he had witnessed several Venezuelan inmates being beaten. One migrant with advanced cancer, he said, is receiving no medical attention. No soap, shampoo or clean clothes are being provided, he said.

Guards, he said, routinely humiliate the Venezuelans. Trinidad’s Ministry of National Security did not respond to repeated requests for comment.

“They tell us, ‘Go back to your country, or we’re going to make your life impossible,’” the Venezuelan said.

For many Venezuelans, life in Trinidad amounts to a jarring turnaround. Jhohanna Mota, a 42-year-old former secretary from coastal Venezuela, studied English in Trinidad in the 1990s. She spent Sundays at the beach and evenings at the discos. In 2016--with inflation soaring and food growing scarce in Venezuela--she opted to abandon her three-bedroom house to come back to Trinidad with her two sons.

But it has not gone as planned. She said she worked under the table in a bakery for a year, doing 8½-hour shifts for $20 a day. Then she got fired. “My boss didn’t want to employ an ‘illegal.’” She tried to legalize her stay but said she was duped into paying $800 for a visa that turned out to be fake.

She now faces a hearing and potential deportation proceedings. In the meantime, she is supporting her boys as a house cleaner--and is at risk of arrest for working without a job permit.

“Every time I walk out my door, I know I could end up in jail,” she said, weeping as her two boys sat in the hall of the building where they all now sleep in one rented room. “I think, ‘What will happen to my boys? Why am I doing this? How did we get here?’”

[sterling-starlight]

Chapter 7: The Ocean is Home

Perhaps it was because he had spent the past fourteen years in Unova, but the world-famous Nimbus City ferris wheel had never struck Ingo as all that spectacular.  

He was certain he several other Nimbasa City locals felt the same way. White, on the other hand, was staring out of the carriage like the scenery was the absolutely greatest thing she had ever seen in her life. Grinning from ear to ear, clutching her Seel plush tightly against her chest, knees bouncing in anticipation as they ascended. He was almost envious at her ability to become awestruck at the simplest of things.  The carriage shuddered to an almost-stop as they reached the pinnacle, and White had practically pressed her face against the glass in an attempt to see further out.

“I can see the ocean!” She exclaimed happily, pressing a finger against the glass. “Come look!” She eagerly waved him over, never once tearing her eyes away from the view.  The benches were obviously meant for one person so the fit was cramped and awkward and, honestly, he could see more of White’s profile more than he could see the ocean when he tried to look.

“You like the ocean?” He questioned,  hoping to fill the sudden tension in the air with conversation.

“Of course I do. The ocean is home,” She replied as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Don’t you feel the same way?” She turned her gaze towards Ingo, head tilted to the side in confusion. “…Or have you been ashore too long?”  There was something in the way she asked the question, an underlying tone of sympathy or pity that Ingo could’t quite place.  

“I don’t understand,” Ingo returned, brows scrunching together. “‘The ocean is home’. What did you mean by that?”

“I meant what I meant,” White placed her chin atop her plush’s head. “I was born and raised in the ocean. It’s home.”

“You mean on a houseboat?”

“What’s a houseboat?”  She looked back to him, confusion painted across her face. “You’re being weird. I was born in the ocean; is that really so strange?”

“Quite frankly, it is.” Ingo shot back, a bit sterner than he had intended. He shook his head and pressed on. “Fine, alright. I’ll concede to your logic. What region were you born in?”

“Ummm…” White put a delicate finger to her lips in thought. “Mama migrated from Orre, I think?… but Black and I were born after she left there, maybe?” She shrugged, “I dunno.”

“Your mother… did she?”

“Can we not talk about this anymore?” White said in a weak voice, squeezing her plushie tightly. “Please?”

Ingo nodded tersely in response. If there was anyone who understood not wanting to talk about dead parents, it was him. Hesitantly he placed a comforting hand on White’s shoulder, causing her to lean into it with a content sound.  The rest of the ride was almost completely quiet, and the silence allowed Ingo’s mind to go in ten different directions, all leading to a conclusion that made him feel like his stomach was being tied into knots.

A pretty girl whose mother had come from Orre, who had been electrocuted at least once in her life, and seemed to have been raised completely detached from the rest of the world. It was unlikely she ever had any official documents, or anything that would link her to her home region in any way. Was White even her real name, or a moniker someone else had given her?  It painted a grim picture, and Ingo felt… enraged at the injustice of it. He had always known that Orre wasn’t exactly the most moral region in the world, everyone knew, but seeing a product of that corruption somehow made it more tangible. The news reports he would hear every now and again about young men and women becoming victims of human trafficking had gained a whole new weight to it.  White had escaped that somehow, but…

“So, hey,” White spoke up, finally breaking the silence. “I’m glad you’re here with me. And that you got me my toy Seel baby,” she held up the plush to emphasize her point. “Elesa said that I might have been too… what’s the word? Vi.. vi-go-rous?” She nodded, “yeah, that. And that it made you uncomfortable. She told me you’re sensitive to things like that.” Ingo felt his eyebrow twitch in irritation. Leave it to Elesa to describe his  anxieties in the most patronizing way possible. “I like spending time with you. So I’ll try to be a little less… what did she say? Bold? Ad-ven-ter-ous?” She shook her head, “one of those things.”

“It isn’t as simple as Elesa might have worded it,” Ingo began, rubbing one of his temples. “However, I do appreciate the gesture. And I… do enjoy spending time with you, too.”

“You do? Yay!” White flung herself onto Ingo, wrapping one arm around his torso and snuggling her head under his chin. He sincerely hoped she couldn’t hear his heart rate accelerating.

The ride ended uneventfully, much to Ingo’s relief. He had half expected Elesa to be there waiting to bombard him with questions regarding how their ride went, but she was no where to be found.

“I’m going to go tell my brother about you,” White announced proudly once they were clear of the crowd surrounding the ferris wheel. “He gets worried if I don’t check in with him,” she continued, rolling her eyes. She patted Ingo’s chest and gave him a brilliant smile, “I’ll see you later. Bye bye~!” White all but skipped away from Ingo, vanishing into the crowd of people as she headed in the direction of the pier.    Ingo turned sharply on his heel and marched in another direction.  He had been planning on going straight home after his errands, but now he had a new destination in mind. ———

Eva Johnson was a woman whose presence commanded the room. She spoke, and people listened. Ingo had met her very briefly one before, and even then felt that she was a force of nature compressed into the body of a portly middle-aged woman.  Eva gave off the aura of “if you don’t have business with me, don’t bother me”, and Ingo found himself awkwardly glued to the spot as he watched her from the other side of the room.  She noticed him and, even with the distance between them, he could feel the judgmental stare she was giving him. Eva quickly wrapped up her conversation with her fellow volunteers and approached, arms crossed over her chest.

“I hope you’ve come here to do more than just gape,” she said bluntly. She shifted, placing her hands firmly on her hips. “Well? How can I help you?”

“I had some questions about White,” Ingo replied. Might as well rip the band-aid off as quickly as possible. Something flashed in Eva’s eyes, an Ingo suddenly felt like he was staring down a mother Ursaring.

“It’s uncouth to talk about our residents in public. Come on then,” she lead them into an empty room that seemed to be, for the moment, used to store extra, cots, chair and tables.  “Now then,” Eva continued, losing up at Ingo. “Normally I would tell you to mind your own business, but White likes you, so I’m willing to be a little lenient. Just bear in mind that I can have you thrown out of here if you cross any lines.”

Ingo automatically stood up a little straighter and he fought off the urge to make sure his clothes were perfectly in order.  “She has said something that have been… concerning. You know her better than anyone, so I had to know,” he took a breath, “before she came here, where did she come from?”

“Is this just to sate your own curiosity? She isn’t a puzzle to be solved and then tossed aside.”

“That isn’t- I wouldn’t do that to her!” Ingo defended hotly. He took in a deep breath, feeling like he was already treading an incredibly thin line. “She’s said some things that have made me worry. She’s my friend. If something happened to her before, then I want to know how I should approach any further line of questioning.”

Eva stared at him, stared right through him, for what felt like an hour. Ingo reached up and loosened the knot of his tie. She eventually relented with a heavy sigh, “let me guess: She’s told you she was born in the ocean? Mother comes from Orre? That she isn’t exactly sure where she’s from?” Ingo nodded. “Then you probably came to the same conclusion as I did: Her mother was a victim of human trafficking, and she and her brother were by extension. From a psychological standpoint, everything about the way she acts points to either her repressing the memories, or trying to make a horrible situation better. A sunny, naive disposition as a way for her to cope.”  Eva’s glare suddenly turned ice-cold as she continued to stare up at Ingo. “She doesn’t know when men want to take advantage of her. She trusts you, so if you even so much as think- if you even so much as try to betray that trust…”

Unwilling to allow Eva to finish the threat on his well-being, Ingo held his hands up placatingly. “That is in no way my intention, ma’am.” He said in an even tone. “You have been incredibly helpful, and I do appreciate your time.”

“…Don’t hurt her,” Eva said in a quiet voice. “She’s already been through enough. Don’t make it worse.”

“You have my word: I will never harm a hair on her head.”