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pikelansource · 4 years

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Class AU part 2 Love Domain Pike

Pikelan day prompt: CLASS SWAP (part 1, Swashbuckler Scanlan)

inspired by fanart

When Scanlan Shorthalt heard the words “Grog’s sister the cleric,” not many ideas beyond Grog in a wig with a magical staff came to mind, so he was extraordinarily surprised to meet Pike Trickfoot, a very cute gnomish adept of Sehanine, patron of moonlight and illusions, the fey goddess of trickery and lovers trysts.

He could not believe his luck.

Scanlan had never paid more attention to Sehanine more than any other god, even though she did sound, admittedly, right up his alley. Faith wasn’t really his thing. Devotion sounded even worse. And idea of giving himself wholly to not just someone but some thing in the cosmos made him laugh, except for a tiny space deep in his stomach that didn’t find it amusing at all, and in fact, found it just a bit infuriating megapowerful celestial beings leveraged magic for people’s love and how unfair that was. Since Scanlan didn’t like to think things like unfairness, he didn’t. He would scrounge for magic all on his own, thank you very much.

But the mischievous glint in the eyes of the black-haired cleric and the ever present waves of love she exuded really could be.

Except it didn’t take long to see that while Pike had a needed skill in healing, Pike and Scanlan’s specialties in magic overlapped a bit. She did things differently, her magic imbued with a strangely close, warm divine feeling that was totally foreign to want he knew. But the first time there was a witness not responding to questions and Scanlan prepared to charm him, Pike stepped in before him to do it herself.

He saw the soft warmth of her magic around her perform a charm that previously he’d never known anyone but himself to do. It was beautiful.

And he hated it.

She could charm and inspire and make some illusions and heal. All the skills Scanlan had to offer, spread out in slightly different directions. Scanlan had worked with groups before, traveled around for fire to kill beasts or find treasure, but his time with them never lasted long. And he figured it would be the same this time. Why would they need two gnomes with similar magic, when she was a much stronger healer?

Scanlan decided to take the opportunity of The Shits arriving in a new bustling town to part ways with the group. Quick and easy, he snuck out of his shared room at the Inn, not even disturbing Grog’s heavy snoring. But Pike stopped him not more than three steps down the stairs that went down to the now mostly abandoned tavern of the late late night or early early morning.

She was just unnaturally there, sitting on the stairwell landing, under a window the moon shone through. There was a covered bench smelling faintly of stale beer and the ancient wooden planks off the inn wheezed beneath them whenever either of them moved, but she smiled serenely like she belonged there in her slinky red nightgown and lacy pink robe and the glittering pendant of Sehanine she always wore.

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye?”

He quickly ate the frown that had appeared on his face. It wasn’t good to let people know what you were thinking. “Goodbye, sugar. It was fun while it lasted. Give my regards to The Shits. If we ever cross paths in the future, I’ll be sure to skip town before I’m settled with another bar tab.”

He attempted to continue on his way, but her soft voice, reminiscent of some kind of frosted cookie he always felt for some reason, wafted across him like crowbar to the kneecap.

“Leaving us won’t make you less afraid.”

Once he could swallow the gorge of unexpected emotion back down to wherever he hid it normally, Scanlan turned to look at her. In a move of unexpected cruelty, her perfect gnomish face was a perfect composition of perfect kindness tinged with sadness.

“Who’s afraid of anything? Possessions? Gross necromancers? Hulking monsters? That’s the adventuring life and I’ve been doing it longer than any of you.”

“No, that’s true. I was a little surprised by that, but that’s not what you’re afraid of.”

Scanlan sighed, gratified by the annoyance. “Can the cryptic. I’m leaving because it doesn’t make any sense to have two people with the same skillset on a team.”

“I really don’t think overlap is the problem. Our methods are different enough. And Vex and Percy both deal ranged attacks. Vex and Vax are both sneaky. Redundancy isn’t bad.”

“Well, you’re not the one being made redundant so your opinion on the topic is of limited value to me,” Scanlan said, trying for an edge he normally didn’t have.

It may have succeeded, a sour little frown appeared on Pike’s face. Unless she was in battle, she always looked beatific as standard fare. So he felt a small degree of satisfaction in winging her on his way out, as it were.

“I don’t look at it that way. It’s fine that we can both rely on charms. It’s fine that we both have illusions and boons at our disposal. It’s great that we can both heal.”

“Except you can heal more than I can, and if you can cover all the other areas I’m situationally useful in, why would they need me?”

“Ah, so” she said knowingly. “It’s not just that you have to be special, you have to be useful too.”

Terrifyingly, he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. There were plenty of times he had no plan for what he was going to say, but it was rare indeed that the well was ever empty. She continued to speak in his place and given the circumstances, he couldn’t tell if that was good or bad.

“Is that why you’ve left every other group you’ve been with? Someone else could do the things you can do?”

“We--we’re adventurers!” Scanlan said, raising his voice to a level he did, maybe once every five years. “Everyone has to be useful. Why are we even doing these things if not to succeed, get gold, or renown, or hell, even turn a good deed every once in a while. And you can’t do any of those things if everyone on the team doesn’t play their part. With you here, I don’t exactly have a part, do I?”

Pike’s face softened again with sympathy, that kindness within her blooming on her face again, in her cheeks and her eyes. And while it was lovely, it only made Scanlan angrier because that hadn’t been his goal at all. At least point, he wanted her mad, at least a portion as angry as he was, so he could leave feeling safe with a bridge burned behind him.

“Of course you still have a part, Scanlan. So what if we do some of the same things. We do them entirely differently. We think about illusions and charms differently. Just as Sehanine will, hopefully, continue to bless me with gifts no one else can understand, you use the arcane in a way none of us can understand either. And I’m surprised you never thought this worth mentioning considering how often I’ve heard you brag about it, but... Scanlan, you’re a bard! Just being that you can get us audiences with people we would have never otherwise. You’ve created stories about us that people know about Vox Machina before we’ve even met them. So, I’m sorry you felt like I was replacing you, but maybe you can understand that to me it seems at least a little bit like you’re fooling yourself so you don’t have to get any more comfortable with us than you already have.”

After waiting for a word from Scanlan that did not come, Pike continued, “Because that’s what you’re afraid of, isn’t it? Attachments. Real ones that really attach to you. Loving people, or letting people love you. Either or.”

He was laden down with his bags, pouches, bedroll, a lute, flute, and a shawm and they all felt like a hundredweight heavier. Still he shook his head.

“You obviously aren’t familiar with the legacy of Scanlan Shorthalt. I’ve loved many people. Probably hundreds,” he said, but even to him his voice was empty of the humor or bravado that gave him his usual panache. It was just empty. It had always been empty, only now he couldn’t pretend.

Pike touched her holy symbol, grasped her fingers around it reverently even though she must have been blindly intimate with it at this point. Yet still, reverent.

It made him think. He hated thinking.

“You can leave if you really want to, Scanlan,” she said. “But I wouldn’t be happy with myself if I let you leave thinking you needed to, or that you aren’t allowed to want something else.”

Scanlan looked down the stairs to the empty tavern and back at the moonlight spilling over Pike’s dark hair.

“Maybe I should give it more time. Think it over. If you’re... okay working together.”

Pike’s smile lit up the small tiny space deep in his stomach that, if normally anything at all, was dull and bitter and distant, now felt lighter and more present.

“Good.” She rose and stood shoulder to shoulder with him as they walked back towards the rooms Vox Machina had rented.

“But I should probably confess something.”

“Well, well, well, a cleric’s confession,” he said, with more humor than he felt, still reeling from all her words, but really, truthfully, “I definitely want to hear that.”

“You need to stay for your own reasons, that’s true, but I still have selfish reasons for wanting you to stay.“

“Oh?” Scanlan said casually, white-knuckling the strap for his lute around his chest.

“Sehanine loves music,” Pike said with a devilish smile.

Scanlan thought that was all she would say, but she paused, leaned into Scanlan’s space and kissed his cheek. Just a soft press of her lips that left a warm lingering pulse spread across his face.

“I love music.”

And with that, Pike left him.

For the first time in a long time, when he went back into his room, and put down his packs and supplies and bedroll, he was pretty sure it was a decision his heart made.

#pikelan #pikelan day #critical role #pike trickfoot #scanlan shorthalt #pre vm #au #class swap au

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such-fun · 4 years

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Fic: Closer to the Light 2/? Kylo Ren x Reader

Closer to the Light

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader

Summary: You rejected the Force once, but it’s pull won’t be denied.

Spoilers: No TROS spoilers. Takes place just before The Force Awakens and continues from there. Rey will feature but not as heavily.

Tag list: @babsbixby, @i-am-lokii-of-asgard, @holacherrycola90, @bookworm-nerd6, @fanofallthingsnstuff, @bulba-bulbasaur, @thomasscresswell, @vampgguk, @johnnysactualgf, @siobhanlovesfilm

Two:

Poe had felt immense relief when a stormtrooper, of all people, managed to help him escape the First Order.

He could honestly admit he had not seen that coming. From what they knew of the Order, troopers were taken as children and brainwashed into loyal servants who laid down their lives for the men and women in power who viewed them as expendable. He never thought he would meet one who could break whatever conditioning they had been put through.

Not that it was impossible to imagine, but more so that the Resistance believed anyone who the Order failed to control would have been killed on sight.

Whether Finn was just lucky or not had yet to be seen. He was no longer FN-2187, and it would take time to see if Finn could be a man that the Resistance could truly rely on. But Poe had hope that Finn would be a valuable asset, as well as someone he could call a friend one day.

That is, if he even made it off Jakku.

After they crashed into the planet that Finn was so reluctant to return to, Poe had woken alone and injured.

And annoyingly missing his favorite jacket.

The fighter looked to have split upon entry into Jakku. He couldn’t find a trace of Finn and didn’t have the means to look for BB-8 on his own.

Running into a scavenger named Naka Iit was pure luck.

Poe had turned on the charm and told the man all about his rather epic escape from the First Order. He thought Naka would be taken aback by his heroics. Instead, the man thought he was crazy.

Well, crazy, but entertaining as well. So Naka agreed to give him a ride to the Niima Outpost.

And because Poe’s life was nothing if not an adventure, they were attacked and shot at by scavengers along the way. Poe, as skilled and scrappy as ever, managed to evade their attackers and they reached the outpost in one piece, if a little worse for wear.

From the outpost he was able to charter passage to Yavin IV from a merchant. And once planet-side was reunited with his beloved X-wing.

His return to D’Qar was unexpected but extremely welcome.

He could hear the mix of surprise and relief over the transmission as he radioed in to the base, letting them know it was really him about to enter their airspace.

The last thing he needed was to get shot out of the sky. Again. And by his own friends, no less.

His movements were a little slow and the bruises and blood on his face caused worry among his fellow rebels, but they still greeted him with wide grins and gentle hugs.

The sea of people parted as the General made her way to him, a motherly smile on her face and a hint of a tear in her eye.

Leia held his battered face in her hands, pained at the signs of his torture and all the suffering he had endured. Poe raised his hands, gripping her wrists lightly, as if to physically reassure her that he was there. That he was okay.

Bruised, yes, but not broken.

“It’s good to have you back,” she whispered for his ears only.

“Wait ’til I tell you how it happened,” he smirked, with a small chuckle.

“That will have to wait, Commander,” Leia announced reprovingly, but the tiny sparkle in her eye told him she was looking forward to the story. “You’re needed in medical.”

Poe didn’t fight her, and allowed himself to be lead toward Doctor Kalonia and her eager staff of medical officers. The General didn’t leave his side.

He was seated in front of the good doctor, but aside from giving her a nod of hello, all his attention was on his General.

“What news of the map?” Leia asked firmly. Poe didn’t take her change in tone personally. This was war after all.

“I retrieved the map from Lor San Tekka,” he replied with a frown. “The village was flooded with stormtroopers in minutes. I managed to get out but they grabbed San Tekka. I gave BB-8 the map and told him to go. That I’d find him later.

“Ren was there,” Poe added softly. He had to give the General credit, she didn’t flinch at the mention of her son. “He tried to get San Tekka to talk, but he refused. They—killed him.”

Leia closed her eyes and sighed. Poe gave her a moment to process the loss. When she looked to him once more, he continued.

“I tried to stop him—them. He stopped my blaster shot in midair,” Poe shook his head. “Used the Force to keep me from running, and had me dragged onto their ship. Ren ordered the village slaughtered.

“I’m—I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it,” his voice trembled but the General dismissed his apology with a sorrowful smile.

“There’s nothing you could have done,” she consoled him, even as she knew it would not help relieve their shared pain.

“General Hux had me interrogated on their ship,” he recounted. “You’ll be happy to know their interrogators are unimpressive.” The proud smirk on his lips twitched when he thought of what followed.

“Ren came when they couldn’t get me to talk.” Leia nodded, knowing that Poe, despite his resilience and strength, would have been no match for Kylo Ren’s mastery of the Force.

“I fought, I tried to keep him out of my head,” he growled, and Doctor Kalonia paused her ministrations, waiting for him to calm before she resumed cleaning his cuts.

“How much does he know?” the General asked, her voice sympathetic and understanding.

“He knows BB-8 has the map,” Poe admitted shamefully.

“We’ll send a team to look for the droid,” she declared calmly, nodding to an officer who hovered nearby. He nodded pointedly and left to inform the rest of the council.

“General,” Poe drew her attention once more, and Leia was concerned at the anguish she saw in his eyes. “Ren—when he was looking in my head, through my memories. He—he saw her.”

Leia inhaled sharply and her hands clenched unconsciously. In a strange way it reminded him of Ren’s reaction upon seeing the girl. The poor woman, obviously traumatized, who they had now unintentionally placed in danger.

“I don’t know how they’re connected but whatever Ren’s intentions, they didn’t look good,” Poe lamented, visibly unhappy with the General’s previous decision to leave him in the dark, even if he understood her caution.

“We need to find her,” he shared a long, resolute look with the General, “before he does.”

_________________

It had been a week since you had been visited by Leia’s enigmatic messenger. And nearly as long as you’d slept.

Bone-tired, you hadn’t even managed a trek to the mines since. Rhydonium was unstable enough. Between your jittery hands and sleepy eyes, it would be a recipe for disaster. The last thing you needed to do was drop some and blow yourself up.

You hadn’t even left your encampment. Knowing your luck, you’d hop on your speeder to head into town, pass out, and end up lost in the middle of the desert upon waking. Abafar was full of utter wastelands the locals called The Void.

If anyone mistakenly wandered into the Void, there was a good chance you’d never see them again. Not alive, anyway.

It wasn’t fear that kept you up.

Poe was hardly about to drag you away kicking and screaming. And Leia, while concerned with your well being, seemed content enough to wait you out.

No, it was your own traitorous mind that kept you awake.

The first few days, it was your memory that haunted you. Not just of the massacre at the temple. Of the dead students and Luke’s desolate face. Instead it was Ben that haunted you.

Ben’s smile had always enthralled you. He was serious and understated more than not, but when you could make him laugh or smile, it was hard to resist joining him in his mirth.

He was taller than you by age twelve. Nearly a foot taller by sixteen. You could remember the crick in your neck that would develop after spending so long staring up at him.

Your mind could not seem to reconcile those memories with the man you were confronted with on that fateful night in the temple.

Even when he was reserved, you could always see Ben’s emotions at play on his face. From concentration to concern, fondness to focus, Ben was always feeling something.

It was the blankness on his face that night that spoke volumes. That was not the Ben you had grown up with, not any longer.

And it broke your heart.

You only wish you knew what had happened, what had driven him so far away from the light. If Luke and Leia knew, they never told you. And after enough time passed, there seemed no point in asking. Knowing wouldn’t change anything.

It should have been a relief when your memories finally stopped plaguing you that past night. But what followed merely confused you.

Well into the night, you had laid down once more in hopes in getting a few moments rest. They were few and far between, but all that was keeping you going lately.

Resting your head on your makeshift pillow, you closed your eyes and reveled in the blankness of your mind. The memories that had been playing on repeat granting you a rare reprieve.

And then it began. Your mind, exhausted, felt a sudden tug.

Your eyes opened blearily as you puzzled at the sensation. Rubbing your temples with the heels of your hands, you tried to ignore the strange feeling. You shifted on your bed and pulled your blanket higher up on your body.

The tug gave way to a buzzing and you let out a frustrated grunt. By now your head was beginning to hurt and you whimpered softly. You had no pain reliever in your camp and little way to ease your pain.

Tossing your arm over your eyes to block out all light, you forced yourself to relax. You took a deep, calming breath and tried to open up your mind in hopes of releasing whatever it was that was causing such tension.

It was as if a spark had suddenly ignited.

You felt a wave of emotion, but it didn’t feel like it belonged to you. It felt triumphant. And then for a moment, the feeling had a voice.

“Open your eyes…”

It felt like a whispered plea, and in your wearied state you could do nothing by comply.

Your arm fell to your side and you opened your eyes. Your gaze roamed around your simple tent and the few personal belongings you owned.

Feeling strangely unsatisfied, you turned your stare to the opening of your tent. From there you could see the rusted edge of your speeder, and the outline of the mines in the distance.

There was only so much terrain that was commonly traveled on Abafar and the mines created a distinct landscape that many used as guides and landmarks when journeying to and from the city.

Dissatisfaction turned to pleasure and the foreign emotions, which had before been inviting, turned sinister.

And then you were alone in your mind once again.

Your eyelids fluttered and you didn’t know what to make of what just happened. It had felt as if another person had crept into your mind, but you couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

You had spent so long isolated and cut off from the Force that it’s possible reappearance felt wrong and unwelcome.

If you hadn’t been so weakened, so completely drained in body and mind, you would have been alarmed. You would have jumped from your bed and hopped astride your speeder. You would have run until you could run no more.

But your body was bone-weary and worn out, and gave in to the temptation to sleep.

______________

The sun was shining brighter which told you that hours had passed.

Your head was fuzzy and light, your body still longing for sleep after being deprived for so long. But the whirring noise in the distance that woke you was persistent.

And if you weren’t wrong, it sounded like it was moving closer. Fast.

Rolling out bed, you didn’t bother with your jacket that might have protected you from the dust and sand as you stepped outside. You stumbled out of your tent in your pants and tank top, both of which had seen better days, and finished pulling on your boots as you searched the wide open terrain for the disturbance.

A speck of black caught your eye, hovering low to the ground but never touching the dunes of sand. You cocked your head to the side as you studied it.

Whatever it was, it moved quickly and began to take on a somewhat more familiar shape. Two wings, slightly curved in, circular cockpit. Your heart sped as your brain tried to catch up.

A TIE fighter. Not totally unheard of considering many pilots used Abafar to refuel. But to be so far out of Pons Ora?

You were now wide awake and scrambling toward your landspeeder. You didn’t know what the Order was doing here, and you didn’t want to know.

Left with little choice, you headed toward the mines and the cover they would provide. If the pilot wasn’t interested in you, then he would continue on ahead. If you were his target, you knew the layout of the mines undoubtedly better than him.

When the fighter shifted focus, turning to follow you, there was no doubt who they were after.

The real question was why?

It had to be that conversation with Poe. You didn’t know if someone overheard him mention the General, the Resistance. If someone had thought you were a some sort of spy or member of the rebellion. All you knew what that you needed to make it to the mines.

Your speeder, hardly in its prime, was no match for the TIE, which was gaining ground quickly. The mines were still too far off for comfort.

When the first blast hit, you nearly lost your balance as an explosion of sand and flame landed to your left.

You had no time to process the fact that the blast, while bone-shaking, was still a good distance away from you. That whoever was chasing you didn’t intend to kill you.

At least not so impersonally as a blast from his onboard weapons.

The second blast, landing just a bit behind you, sent your speeder tumbling off course and you flying off. The dunes provided a little cushion as you slammed into the ground.

You were struggling to come to your feet as the TIE fighter came to a stop. Hugging your ribs, you stumbled as the pilot descended.

You blinked, almost sure you had a concussion, confused by the sight of a man clad in black, face covered by a helmet reminiscent of Darth Vader. Smaller and sleeker than what you remembered in holograms and history texts.

That couldn’t be just another First Order pilot, and it definitely wasn’t a stormtrooper.

You tripped over your own feet as you came to a sickening revelation, falling to your knees as your pursuer came into focus. His cape fluttered in the breeze as he approached. Soon he was in front of you. Hovered above you, he silently regarded your bedraggled form.

He called himself Kylo Ren now, you reminded yourself. He wasn’t—this was Kylo Ren. Your heart was beating out of your chest, the rush of blood all you could hear in your ears. Your gaze fell to his boots, your breathing heavy and labored as he remained eerily still.

“Look at me,” he demanded, the cold, mechanical voice that now replaced his once warm and deep tones made you shudder.

Unable to do so, your eyes remained on the ground.

There was the sound of a click and brushes of movement, but you didn’t glance up until you saw his knees bend as he crouched down to meet you at your level.

“Look at me,” he repeated, and recalled the voice in your head last night. His voice.

The mask was gone. In its place was a mess of black hair, achingly familiar, a pair of full lips pulled into a slight frown and finally haltingly recognizable brown eyes.

His face, for all its familiarity, might as well been a mask itself. There was no anger, or curiosity, or happiness. It was like he was studying you. Deciding what to do with you.

And you knew this wasn’t the man you called a friend once. This wasn’t the boy you regarded with a young girl’s first blossom of love. This man was the Jedi Killer. The Commander of the First Order. And yet you still found yourself unable to stop the shattered plea that fell from your lips.

“Ben?”

His eyes narrowed and he jerked away, standing abruptly as his fists clenched. And as you waited for the pain that was sure to follow, he simply waved a hand and your world went black.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #reader #reader insert #star wars #fic: closer to the light #fanfiction #fanfic #poe dameron #finn #Princess Leia #general Leia organa #leia organa #ben solo #luke skywalker #general hux #bb8

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jovialyouthmusic · 4 years

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Silver Service

At last Bastien has Anton in his sights

Word Count 3352

A/N There is a lot of action in this chapter - firearms are used and some are injured, but there are no graphic descriptions. Whole series is not suitable for under 18s

12 Just Desserts?

‘So as you see, we need to know numbers so we can accommodate the Court’ Gladys said as she lead him along the corridors of the first floor, swinging wide door after door to various guest rooms. ‘His Majesty can have the master suite, which has been thoroughly cleaned and renovated since the Duchess passed away’. Eventually she came to a door at the end of a corridor and turned to him.

‘This part is closed off, I’m afraid’ Her tone was apologetic ‘It may look sound from the outside, but dry rot has been found in the supporting timbers so it’s out of bounds until it can be repaired.’ Damien made a mental note – perhaps this was a ruse and she had something to hide.

‘Well it’s certainly an impressive building’ he said admiringly. ‘The walls are thick – are there any secret passages I should know about?’ He pitched his voice to make it appear a joke, but he saw Gladys blanch slightly before laughing.

‘Oh no, nothing like that, although there is a priest hole in the part that’s blocked off. It’s the oldest part of the building’ She turned and they made their way back along the corridor.

‘So I hear the Duchess was quite a character’ He saw her shoulders tense slightly

‘She certainly was a taskmaster’ she replied ‘To be frank, I’m relieved she’s gone, it was very challenging trying to keep her happy. She had mental health issues, but she refused to take medical advice’

‘I’ve not worked with Royalty before’ Damien replied ‘King Liam seems a nice enough person, but those born into wealth and privilege can’t understand things the way most ordinary folk do’ he probed gently, attempting to sound out her loyalties. She gave a hollow laugh

‘And don’t I know it’ she replied ‘Honestly, she genuinely thought we’d been born specifically to serve her and not question her eccentricity’ He made a sympathetic noise.

‘A lot of rich and famous folk in the States are exactly the same. I worked with a few celebrities who’d be right at home in the Court’ he said ‘But I’m not here to complain about the folk who pay me’ he grinned, satisfied that she might be easily influenced by the Sons of the Earth.

‘Well, I must admit the pay cheque is some compensation, she was oddly generous. I think she didn’t really understand the value of money and I’m glad she wasn’t a skinflint.’ Gladys replied as she lead him into her office. They perused some schematics of the grounds to work out parking arrangements and staging for the lantern release. There wasn’t enough time to bring in any heavy duty staging, so they had to work with what they had available.

‘I’m afraid I have to ask about your security arrangements too’ he said ‘the King’s Guard need to know what’s in place before they bring his Majesty in. I have full authorisation to evaluate any weak spots and work out what might be needed to make sure he is safe, though that of course will be up to Captain Lykel’ He saw a shadow cross her face

��Of course. We didn’t need anything elaborate, despite the Duchess’s dislike of visitors. She relied on keeping the walls and fences well maintained, and the only technology she agreed to was the intercom at the gate.’

‘That’s fine Gladys. If you would email schematics of the house and grounds to Captain Lykel, he’ll make an evaluation’ She nodded uncertainly

‘I’ll do what I can’ she said.

-----

Later on, Damien bid her farewell. He had charmed her and they were on good terms.

‘Are you sure you won’t stay?’ she asked ‘As you saw, we have plenty of room’

‘Thankyou, but I promised to visit some family friends. It’s been a long time since my parents left the country and I’ve a slew of relatives to reconnect with’ He’d thought long and hard about staying, but on balance thought that leaving would bring Anton out of hiding – presuming he was at the manor. The bugs on the luggage could just be sitting in the old locked off wing of the castle and he might have gone elsewhere, but he judged that going back and reporting to Bastien would be a more effective use of his time.

‘She should have emailed plans of the castle to you by now’ he explained to the Captain of the Guard. ‘If you let me look them over I’ll tell you if I think they’re accurate. I think it most likely that if they’re still here, Anton and his men are hiding out in the old wing and plan to stay undetected until the Court arrive. The grounds are extensive but there aren’t any outbuildings they could use that I could see. There’s a stable block that’s unused but it’s not big enough to house anything of any use’

‘I have some plans from a couple of decades ago’ Bastien mused ‘Let’s compare them for any discrepancies. If you go back you could check with her for any additions or renovations – but I think we’re ready to go in. The sooner we move the more advantage we have’

‘Gladys told me that the Duchess relied on keeping the perimeter sound, but it looks like there’s an old entrance that’s not been used for years’

‘We’ve already done a sweep, it’s an old wooden door in the walls, locked and bolted, but the hinges are rotten. The vegetation is challenging, she appears to have only cared about the portion of the grounds she could see from the Manor. Our neighbour Monterisso have some excellent stealth tech that they loaned us for this operation, and we sent a spy drone in as low as we dared. It shouldn’t have been noticed on the ground, it’s whisper quiet and damn near invisible.’ He sat up and straightened his jacket.

‘Time to brief everyone. We move at midnight’

------

‘So the whole damn court is coming here in less than 48 hours’ Anton mused ‘I was planning on striking at Applewood, but this is too good to miss. All we have to do is sit and wait for them to come to us’

‘It does seem too good to be true. Are we sure it’s not a trap?’ Claudius asked cautiously, but Anton waved his hand.

‘They have no idea of this little bolthole, they don’t even know we’re in the country’

‘But that American that snuck around this afternoon saying his parents were Cordonian…’

‘I thought the same, but the accent tied in with his story’ Anton said dismissively. ‘The lantern festival is a fixed date so it’s to be expected they’ll be scrambling to get the place ready, and the Americans have little or no interest in who runs Cordonia as long as they continue to trade with them’

‘As long as the housekeeper kept her mouth shut’ Claudius glowered

‘Of course she did, she’s right in my pocket. I spun her a sob story about how cruel Constantine was to my parents – which is exactly the case, I just threw in the hearts and flowers. She’ll cooperate with us, and I can deal with Lykel when the boy King’s been disposed of.’

‘There’s not many of us though’ Claudius cautioned ‘The Guard will be on full alert’

‘You forget the secret passageways. We can get hold of the King anytime we like with a full guard right outside his door. As soon as he’s dealt with we can invoke the clause of succession and I’ll be on the throne along with the Nevrakis woman. She’s a bit skinny for my liking, but she has spirit. My lawyer has the papers and is ready to make the announcement as soon as I call him’ He yawned and stretched. ‘I’d better get some sleep. Tomorrow we make our plans, and then Liam will walk right into our grasp.’

------

On the stroke of midnight, the Guard entered the grounds of the manor through the old oak door, quickly and quietly. They moved cautiously, using the drone with infra red sensors to check for security patrols. None had been in evidence when Damien had visited, but that was to be expected. Only one man was detected, and was swiftly captured and silenced. Next, two groups infiltrated the Manor, one through the staff entrance which had been left unlocked for night staff, and another through the conservatory. Frightened staff were rounded up and corralled in the staff dining room with a man to guard them in case anyone not loyal to the Crown decided to warn Anton, if indeed he was still there.

Bastien monitored it all from the surveillance van which had been moved to the perimeter of the Manor grounds, as they didn’t expect to meet much resistance. Although the manor was a good size, Damien had been able to ascertain that the bedrooms he had been shown were all unused, and the part that was closed off could not house more than half a dozen men. It was risky not knowing if Anton was there and how many men he had, but that was outweighed by the advantage of surprise.

Damien confronted Gladys, tight lipped and angry at the intrusion. He explained the situation and reluctantly she revealed that the manor did indeed house a number of Anton’s sympathisers. The Duchess had allowed him space for his operations, but she swore it was only a resting place for him – there was another bigger location, though she did not know its whereabouts. It appeared he and the other two men had arrived from Monaco and had planned to move on before he had learned of the charity tour coming to the manor. There were three other men resident at the manor, one of which Damien knew they had already neutralised on their way in. That left Anton, Claudius and three others to track down.

The numbers and the element of surprise were all with them, and Damien lead a team to the first floor of the blocked off section of the manor, which Gladys admitted was not damaged. Another group went in at ground level. He took a deep breath before he carefully opened the door to the corridor beyond.

-------

Anton woke to a rough shake and a cautioning hand on his mouth, and he sat bolt upright without a sound. Claudius stood by his bedside, picking up a torch from the bedside where he had left it to wake him.

‘Get dressed fast, we have company’ he hissed in a low tone.

‘Shit’ he swore ‘How the fuck…’

‘Never mind how, just get some clothes on. Preston and Parks will hold them off, we need to move’

‘We should stand and fight’ he blustered as he grabbed some clothes.

‘We don’t know how many there are. They must have taken out at least one of us to get into the house.’ He went to the door to listen while Anton struggled into pants, sweater, socks and shoes, thanking his lucky stars he slept naked. It had given him valuable seconds. He heard a noise in the corridor outside – voices and a scuffle.

‘For the King! Severus, come out with your hands up.’ was the loud proclamation.

‘Shit, if it’s the Guard they’ll have more than one team.’ He snarled in anger, but Claudius was opening the window and beckoning him over. Swiftly he went across, now hearing gunshots outside. Claudius was scrambling down the vine that grew up the wall to gutter height, and he followed, cursing. He looked out across the lawn and saw a glint in the moonlight in mid air.

‘Fuck, they’ve got a drone’ Claudius swore. ‘I’ll shoot it down and we can run for it. Make for the stables, there’s a car there’ He hit the ground and aimed into the air. A shot rang out, followed by a curse, then another shot. Anton looked toward the stables and they ran together, hearing the whir of the drone’s rotors. Claudius had hit it but it stayed aloft, no longer silent. Anton heard shouts from the manor and looked back to see someone following them, hitting the lawn and racing toward them at breakneck speed.

‘Interpol, stop or I’ll shoot’ he heard the figure shout as he ran. By this time they were at the stables and Claudius turned to fire at their pursuer. Anton fumbled with the door latch and heard a shot and a grunt close by as the door swung open. He saw Claudius stumble and fall, before regaining his feet and lunging after him. A third man was making his way to the car from the house, obviously one of his men, firing at the Interpol man, who threw himself to the ground and rolled toward a bush.

‘Keys - glove compartment’ Claudius gasped. Anton flung himself into the car and rummaged for the key before locating it in the ignition and turning it. Claudius got into the passenger side, blood staining his shirt in the dim light of the dashboard, the other man getting into the back seat. Claudius and he wound down the windows ready to shoot as the engine roared into life. Anton turned the headlights on full to dazzle anyone trying to get to them, and burst out of the stables to barrel off down the drive. He heard shots hitting the car from the Interpol operative – and maybe more.

‘The gates’ grunted Claudius, pain in his voice ‘We’ll have to ram them. They’ll have them closed and covered’

‘Interpol?’ growled Anton ‘Lykel must have called them in, damn him’ They careered along the driveway toward the presumably locked gates. There were no other vehicles blocking the way and no obvious presence, but armed men could be hidden nearby. There was no choice – this was the only exit. Anton rammed the gates and Claudius gasped in pain at the impact, the third man bracing himself so he could shoot if needed. The gates didn’t budge. He tried again without success, and screamed with frustration. He flung the door open and dropped out of the car, hugging the ground.

‘Cover me, damn you’ he snarled as he moved toward the gate, and they crouched with their firearms out, using the car doors as shelter. More shots rang out, but Anton had lost a sense of where they came from in his drive to escape. Cursing his lack of a firearm he climbed onto the top of the car and scaled the gates, feeling a sharp stinging pain in his lower leg.

He dropped over onto the road outside - his ankle blossomed into pain and he realised he’d caught a bullet. He ran for his life as best as he could, adrenalin spurring him on. Shouts and more shots rang out followed by a cry of distress, and he crossed the road alone to make for the forest in the hope of shaking his followers. He had almost made it when lights suddenly dazzled him. Just ahead of him was a van, dark in the shadow of the trees on the verge of the road. The headlights had suddenly snapped on full and he stumbled, arm across his eyes against the light. A figure appeared in the harsh blue white light, broad and tall, and he heard a familiar voice. He also heard the cocking of a firearm behind him.

‘Stop, Severus, there’s no place to go’ came Bastien’s voice. He screamed in rage and threw himself at the Captain of the Guard, barrelling into him with all his weight, judging that the gunman behind him wouldn’t shoot for fear of hitting the Captain. It was sheer luck that he caught Bastien’s injured leg and made him stumble, but that was where his luck ran out. Bastien stepped to the side, regaining his balance and sending Anton to the ground. He swiftly followed him down, knee in his back with his full weight. He heard the breath wheeze out of him and twisted his arm up behind him.

‘Let me go’ he panted when he could get his breath ‘You’ll regret this – I should be king - you’ll see. I’ll have you – executed - when I’m crowned’

‘I think not, Severus’ he replied. By now, others were arriving, and he was cuffed and dragged to his feet. ‘It all ends here, you’ll not escape this time’ Bastien assured him. Damien appeared, breathing heavily, Lewis behind him.

‘Mission accomplished, Captain’ Lewis said ‘We’re double checking for any stragglers, but if our information’s right, we have them all. We’ve a couple of gunshot wounds on both sides but everyone’s alive. One of the men by the gate needs an ambulance, he could bleed out’ Bastien frowned at Damien as Anton was lead away.

‘Looks like you were one of the unlucky ones’ he said, pointing at his upper arm. Dazedly, he turned his head to look at his bloodied sleeve.

‘Just a flesh wound’ he said ‘Are you okay?’

‘Not a scratch, Nazario. Thanks for your help, you made our job much easier’

‘That’s what I do’ he grinned ‘Now, do you think Gladys would break out the brandy?’

‘You can go and find out’ Bastien said ‘I have a phone call to make.’

-------

Bastien settled into the seat in the back of the security van. He called up Sophia’s number and barely heard the ring tone before she answered.

‘Bas! Is that you?’ her voice showed no sign of sleepiness despite the fact that it was some time after midnight.

‘Yes theá mou, it’s all over and I’m fine’

‘Are you? Are you really? No gunshot wound, no knife injury, burns, broken bones?’ Her voice was becoming shrill.

‘Perhaps a bruise or two’

‘A bruise? How could you get a bruise in the surveillance van?’ she scolded, frantic with worry. He sighed.

‘Really Sophia, I’m unscathed. I had the pleasure of capturing Anton myself, but only because he came to me’

‘He came to you? Why didn’t you have a lookout?’ she asked incredulously.

‘Theá mou, be calm’ he said soothingly. ‘Breathe, my goddess. Listen to my voice. All is well. Anton scaled the gates to escape and ran in front of the van. He had no weapons, so I stepped out and apprehended him myself. I had armed support, and all is well’ There was a hiccup on the other end, and he realised she was crying, hopefully with relief, though it was hard to tell just by listening.

‘Come back to me, agápe mou’ she pleaded ‘I need to see you – hold you’ He took a deep breath.

‘Sophia, I love you more than life itself’ he pledged ‘I will be with you as soon as I can. Please, try to sleep, you need rest’

‘It was – it was Anton’ she sobbed ‘I was so afraid he’d take you from me’

‘He’ll not escape this time, I promise’ he said ‘Rest, théa mou. I still have tasks to perform’

‘Let Lewis do it’ she said faintly ‘Please. All I can think of is when Anton had me in the dungeon. I need you’

‘Call Drake’ He replied ‘Remember the techniques I taught you. Breathe’ He wondered at what had triggered her, feeling a pang of guilt at the probability that it was his departure. His normally calm and self possessed lover was in distress at the other end of the line. ‘I have to ring off’ he said soothingly. ‘Promise me you’ll call someone to sit with you until I return’

‘O – okay’ she sniffled ‘I’m sorry Bastien. I don’t know why I’m like this’

‘I broke my promise’ he said regretfully ‘I went into the field. This was important, I know you understand in your logical mind, but your emotions are not so easily soothed. I’ll tell Lewis that I’m coming back. Hold on Sophia, I know you’re strong. Be strong for me, my love’

‘Drive carefully’ she said, her voice a little calmer.

Next Chapter 13 Home and Dry?

#silver service #bastien lykel #damien nazario #anton severus #protect and serve #sophia x bastien

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boysenberry-starbucks-gremlin · 4 years

Text

Nowhere Else I’d Rather Be

THIS FIC CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE RISE OF SKYWALKER

Pairing: General Hux x Poe Dameron (Gingerpilot)

Warning: Abuse? It’s implied.

Summary: Rather than Finn blasting Hux and leaving him at the mercy (or lack-there-of) of the First Order, Hux returned with him and Poe and has officially defected. Poe, Hux, Rose, Finn, Rey, and Ben have become the closest of friends. However, they soon realize that they know close to nothing about Hux. Poe decides to attempt to get some information out of him and it turns out they have something in common.

A/N: The information Hux provides can be found in the Aftermath book series which follows the time between the Empire and the First Order. (Great book series, I highly recommend.) As for Poe, I relied on Wookiepedia for a lot of the info I found on him.

----------------------------------

The war was technically over. There were still a hand full of loose ends to tie up, a few battles to still be fought and won. Leia, the beloved princess and general, was gone and Poe Dameron, along with Finn, has taken her place. Although, there really is no replacing General Organna.

Poe walked into the cafeteria, BB8 close at his heals. People nodded to him as he passed and soon came upon a table filled with those who had become his best friends and family. Among them, sitting with his back perfectly straight, was the ex-general Hux.

Poe could still hardly believe that he was the spy. Part of him had always felt that the redhead could do amazing things if he had chosen the correct side. But he would have never imagined him actually changing sides. Of course, he told them that the main reason was to get Kylo Ren dead. That doesn’t change the fact that, when offered, Hux flew away with Poe and Finn back to the base. And besides, Kylo Ren was gone. When Rey had returned, another ship carrying one Ben Solo arrived soon after.

It had not been an easy transition. For anyone.

Hux had gotten cornered many times for Starkiller, people wanting to get revenge for the lives he had taken that day. Poe tried to keep an eye on him, be there as back up when needed, while adjusting to life as general. Rey had left and returned, having taken the Skywalkers’ lightsabers to Luke’s home planet. When she returned, she told him and Finn that she felt like she left a part of her on that desert planet with the sabers, but she also knew that now she could begin living as her own self, and hopefully make Luke and Leia proud. Ben had the most adjusting to do. He mourned the passing of his mother, while also getting the chance to properly mourn for his father as well. Rey helped him through it, though. They were there for each other.

Poe took a seat across from Hux. Around the table also sat Finn, Rose, Rey, and Ben. The six of them met up for at least one meal a day, often dinner, to catch up and have a few laughs before having to return to business. It was the highlight of all of their days.

“And he decides to go though regardless, this narrow opening between mountains and my father decides, ‘oh, the falcon can fit.’ I’m surprised we didn’t crash,” Ben laughed through the end of his story and everyone joined in.

Rose caught Poe’s eye and smiled. “We’re talking about our childhoods,” she explained.

Poe nodded understandingly. “What have we got so far?”

Finn, Rey, and Rose quickly recounted their stories. Poe smiled and laughed along with everyone before turning to the only person only slightly chuckling along. Hux sat there, only a small smile on his lips as he ate, but his eyes were kept down on the table.

“What about you, Hugs?” Poe asked, a wide, flirty smile on his face.

Everyone turned to look at the man in question.

“Yeah,” Rose spoke up, “We hardly know anything about you. We don’t even know your first name. I mean, Ben should. You’ve known each other for years.”

Ben chuckled. “Actually. I don’t know that either,” he turned and looked at Hux properly. “You were always just General or Hux.”

Hux sighed, knowing they weren’t going to let it go. He had gotten to know everyone around the table, it was only fair that he returned the favour. “Its Armitage.”

“Armitage,” Poe repeated. “I like it, it suits you.” As the rest nodded Hux smiled a little brighter. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Poe. What Poe didn’t know was that Hux hadn’t heard his name spoken so kindly since his mother last spoke it.

The group soon disbanded, everyone separating to their private rooms. Poe and Hux branched off down their hall. Their rooms were a short distance from each other’s and they often ended up sitting in each other’s rooms late into the night. They didn’t say much; Hux read and Poe would have a gadget that he was busy fixing. It was often something off his x-wing that didn’t get flown quite so often anymore since he became general.

Hux enjoyed the company. So it wasn’t a problem that when he entered his room, the dark haired man followed him. Hux sat on his bed, while Poe took a seat in the chair nearby. Neither of them moved to pull out a book or a gadget, they just sat in silence for a moment.

Poe took a deep breath before speaking. “So what else can I know about you?” He leaned back, his legs crossed so his ankle rested on his knee.

Hux shifted uncomfortably. “There’s not much to tell. Most anything you want to know, I’m sure you have seen from files I gave you from the First Order.”

“No, not stuff about General Hux. I’ve been told and have read plenty about him. I want to know about Armitage. Your childhood, your parents-,”

Hux let out a scoff before he could stop himself. At Poe’s puzzled look, he explained, “Anything regarding my parents is...complicated. That’s saying the least.” Poe just gazed at him, eyebrows slightly raised, urging him to continue. “Surely you don’t wish to hear about my childhood. Or lack-there-of.”

Poe smiled softly. “I do.”

Hux could feel his wall breaking slowly. He always could when Poe was around. It was even worse when they were alone together. He could never be cross or cold with him. He sighed before leaning forward and deciding to speak, staring at his hands folded in front of him.

“My father was...not a good man. He started training me to be in the military from a very young age. For most of my life he refused to call me his son. It wasn’t until I ranked general that he did. By that point though I couldn’t have cared less.” It was the first time he was ever being honest with someone about his father. Someone who never saw the way Brendol treated him, someone on the outside who otherwise wouldn’t have known.

“What about your mother?”

Hux’s face dropped. He should have seen that question coming from a mile away. Part of him had. And yet, it still stung.

Poe opened his mouth to apologize, but Hux quickly cut him off. “She died when I was young. She was kitchen staff where my father lived on Arkanis. I don’t remember much about my life there. But I remember her.” He was still looking down at his hands. He wanted to brush off the topic, as he had so many other times. But this wasn’t like other times. This time he was with Poe, and for some reason unknown to him, he had opened up to the general, and he couldn’t find it in himself to close back up again.

Poe sighed softly and hung his head. “My mother died when I was young too. She was an a-wing pilot in the first war. She taught me how to fly.” Poe let a small smile grace his features. Hux looked up just in time to see it. Poe reached around his neck and pulled out a chain with a ring hanging on it. “Her wedding ring,” he explained, meeting Hux’s gaze. “I had told my dad that he should have kept it, but I had always loved it. I never take it off now. It’s my good luck charm.”

“I’m sure your mother would be very proud of you,” Hux spoke softly.

Poe smiled and gave a chuckle that was hardly audible. “So would your’s.” The two men gazed at each other for a long moment before Poe cleared his throat. “My mom, she would have liked you. She probably would have tried to put us together.”

“Would she really have to try so hard?” The words were out before he could think them. Anxiety rose in Hux’s chest as he prayed that the comment went unnoticed. But this was Poe. Of course it didn’t.

Poe’s features softened to that of a sort of realization. He gave that cricked flirty smile he gives that makes Hux believe that he would’ve defected from the First Order much sooner if only he’d seen that smile. “No,” Poe said at last. “No, she wouldn’t.”

Hux’s ears turned as red as his hair as he lowered his face and turned away from Poe. He was so caught in his thoughts that he hadn’t seen or felt Poe move to sit next to him on the bed until a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder. He turned and faced the dark haired man sitting closer to him than anyone had ever sat before.

Their eyes scanned each other’s faces; Poe’s searching for a go-ahead, Hux’s looking for any sign of doubt. Because Poe would never do anything unless he knew for certain that Hux wanted to; and the situation was so unfamiliar to Hux that he was sure Poe didn’t really feel the same way he did. Hux reached over and blindly took Poe’s hand, which had been laid on the bed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to him. That gesture was all Poe needed, and the gentle squeeze Poe gave in response reassured Hux.

Poe’s hand which had been placed on Hux’s shoulder moved up to his face, running along his jaw before coming to just above his ear. He pushed some fiery hair behind Hux’s ear. It sent chills down Hux’s spine and Poe nearly melted when Hux leaned into the touch. It couldn’t have been a more perfect moment.

Poe leaned forward and closed the gap between them. Their lips collided in what Hux felt was an electric shock. It was a soft kiss, one that lasted a long time, with Hux rubbing his thumb against the back of Poe’s hand, and Poe running his fingers through fiery hair. It was perfect.

When they broke they rested their foreheads together and laughed. Neither really knew what to do now.

“Armitage,” Poe spoke softly.

Hux hummed in response, waiting for Poe to continue. He loved the way Poe said his name. And Poe loved saying it. It rolled off so naturally that he felt like he had no other words.

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

Hux smiled and pulled back to look at Poe’s face. What he was about to say was the most honest he had ever been with anyone in his entire life. It scared him a little. “There is nowhere I’d rather be, Poe, than here with you.”

--------------------------------------------

A/N: I typically don’t write fics with major spoilers in them. However, I feel like our wonderful General Hux did not get the ending he deserved. Neither did Ben but that is beside the point. (We’re also never specifically told that Ben is dead. Maybe something could have happened to save him. Just my thoughts on it.) If people like this fic I will happily do more based of this idea of these six becoming friends and Ben and Hux being accepted into the group.

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ateamforumsfanworks · 4 years

Text

Advanced Guide - Arena Efficiency

06-07-2017, 01:32 AM

Originally Uploaded by Forum User: Shiki

This is a followup from my other guide - https://forum.a-tm.co.jp/forum/valky...ather-diamonds

I`m considering making efficiency guides that cover all aspects of the game - from quests, to onslaught, to scenario, to connects in the future as well. For now tho, I`ll write this one since arena has always been my favorite aspect of the game. On the two accounts that I play(ed) I made over 6000 arena and grand arena matches, so I doubt there is something I havent figured out that would surprise me. So let`s get started. This guide will cover the following: -Things you might or might not know about arena -Underrated heroes/stats/status effects that are hidden op -Advices on how to build your team depending on your Power score -Personal hero tier list and recommended team setups

Things you might or might not know about arena Everyone knows arena is a place where a player can engage in a combat with another player(or CPU controlling the player`s team). You earn diamonds and mana for beating your best rank in arena, and daily diamond reward depending on the rank you have at your reset. The reset is at 5 am local(player time) so it differs for each player. One thing you need to know is, once you create your account, Ateam will store your original account creation location in their database and if you change the place you reside(e.g. move from Europe to America for example), the local time will remain the one of the country where you created your account. Here are few thing you might or might not know about arena. 1. Gear skills and basic attacks can be dodged, but action skills and limit bursts can`t be dodged - rather common fact about arena. 2. When you activate a gear skill, your action skill gauge briefly stops from filling - credits to @GICN for finding it out 3. As of recent update, element limit bursts (earthen breath,ice gorge,flame bulb, black hole, divine wrath) count as pure damage (neither ATK nor MATK), thus they can bypass barriers and reflects that are designed to block ATK and/or MATK damage(luflit skill,glacial cloak etc.). Those can only be blocked by skills and gear skills that absorb or reflect the said element damage(Glimmering armor, Arte, Aegir connect dark reflect etc.). Because they can bypass reflects, stacking mages with black hole vs luflit for example isnt that bad of an idea. 4. Reflected elemental damage amplifies if the attacker is weak to the said element. I cant confirm 100% if defenders resistances affect the damage, but I can confirm for sure that attacker`s resistances affect the damage reflected. So if youre resistant to the reflected damage(i.e. Odin to light) you will take significantly less damage, while if youre weak to the reflected element damage(i.e. Freya casting grimoire of accusation skill) you will take bonus damage. 5. Very few people know about this one - defender`s team has a hidden advantage because defensive gears have higher chance to activate on the defender side. This is one of the main reasons why turtle teams are so good. Defensive gears such as Winged Helm, Glacial Cloak, Urd Staff have increased activation chance when used by the defender. The same does not apply for the attacker, so that puts the attacker in a slight disadvantage. While Ateam probably won`t confirm this, nor does any website affiliated with VC, thus giving room for speculation that it`s purely RNG, I and the few others that know about this can confirm that it exist, due to countless observation of our arena matches. 6. Round 1 hero turn order - as you know, the pace of hero transition between different turns is based on your speed stat. However, something not many people know is that, to compensate the low speed of certain heroes(primarily tanks), at round 1 ALL TEAMS USE THE SAME HERO ORDER PATTERN. The philosophy behind this is to give slower heroes a chance to cast their skills before they can get statused by others(primarily for tanks). The order is the following: First Cast - nearest hero Second Cast - middle hero Third Cast - Farthest hero Fourth Cast - Fourth hero Fifth Cast - second hero How can you use this in your advantage - I can give two simple examples on how you can use this to turn the battle in your favor: 1)Your middle hero is a mage with mani little helper at gear slot 1, while enemy second hero is high attacker(like Thor) with winged helm at slot 1. Your hero will cast their mani helper first, hitting the enemy attacker while they are in mid-animation of casting their skill, blocking them from finishing casting the skill. This way they wont have regenerate skill up for 4 turns which will help you take them down faster. 2)Your highest MATK mage and enemy highest MATK mage both have Valhalla staff at gear slot 1, but your mage is your middle hero and enemy mage is their fourth hero - your mage will petrify the enemy mage first. If your heroes have same gear, same target, and same hero order, speed stat will determine whos skill will fire off first. Additional Note: Gear skills have their own animation speed with Elysian Dress being the fastest, while Mjolnir being the slowest. Some skills activate so fast it technically bypasses enemy turn - example if your Hel is in the middle and cast Elysian dress, because of the animation speed, it will cast BEFORE THE ENEMY EVEN CASTS THEIR SKILL (e.g. tanks casting regenerate or something else). If said scenario occurs, once the enemy is out of the status effect (shade), they will attempt to cast THEIR ROUND 1 SKILL, NOT THEIR ROUND 2 SKILL. So basically you can only interrupt skills if both your and enemy gear skill actually fire off(the yellow window with the skill name pops up) 7. Multi target skills(Ranco, Canon, Wolfgang) can hit the same target more than once depending on your RNG. A fun fact- they can also target dead heroes if they were alive during the skill wind up(cast animation). 8. Gear order determines which gear skill you will cast each turn. E.g. slot 1 will have its skill being cast at round 1,5,9 and so on, slot 2 will have its skill on round 2,6,10 and so on. Underrated heroes/stats/status effects that are hidden op Starting with heroes, there are 3 heroes that come to my mind, which many people consider rather underperforming, that are actually hidden op if used correctly. 1)Loki Considered by many as an utter garbage because his skill and lb are MATK, while he`s a physical damage dealer and there aren`t any hybrid gears, Loki has 3 things that actually make him a viable hero in PvP: -High dark and light resistance - most people heavily focus on these two types of element damage so his survivability is pretty decent, especially combined with his high EVASION -His gear confuses the target with lowest MDEF. Confuse in general is very strong stat and if applied to the person with Highest ATK(which usually happens since those tend to have the lowest MDEF), its even better. -His action skill is direct counter to Luca as it does light damage and confuses humans. The only downside is that its RNG based and might not hit the right target. 2)Michelle Considered an utter garbage, she has 2 things that actually make her hidden op: -Highest evasion in the game -Her gear gives her and the ally with lowest evasion(95% chance its the tank) curse immunity - extremely powerful vs anti turtle teams that rely on curse. 3)Mani While not as underrated as the above, she`s still considered lackluster because she doesnt have charm/petrify/ w/e reliable status to hit the front. However shes extremely strong at dealing with the backline due to the fact that almost all backliners are weak to dark. Strong against turtle teams. Underrated stats that are actually OP The only stat I`ll note is Evasion - greatly helps with survivability because if high enough, you can dodge almost all gear skills and basic attacks, making your enemies waste their turns for nothing. Status effects that are actually OP -Blind - while it doesnt disable heroes from using gear skills and activation skills, it makes them miss almost every gear skill/basic attack during the duration of the effect. Sometimes this can be better even than disabling effects, especially if an enemy uses a 1 or 2 turn buff skill before they use their next gear skill, as it will both waste their buff and their offensive gear skill, thus making them have to wait another 2-3 turns till they can activate them again -Slow - one of the most underrated but arguably one of the best status effects in the game. It severely reduces the pace of transition between hero turns to a point where other heroes will be able to do atleast 2 turns before the slowed hero can even move to their next turn. This alone is a reason you shouldn`t underestimate heroes like Nautica for PvP. -Silence - while not as underrated as the above, theres one thing about silence that not many people know - not only it disables the hero from using action skills, it disables them from using GEAR SKILLS as well

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. Advices on how to build your team depending on your Power score I`m gonna break the Power score into 3 sub types: -Early game - from 0 to 100 000 Arena team Power score -Mid game - from 100 000 to 160 000 Arena team Power score -End game - from 160 000 onwards Early game Early game most heroes are still 3* and unorbed, also lack decent gears. This mean they lack defensive stats as HP, def, mdef and are fairly easy to kill. This is why at this range, heroes with AoE type of attacks (Thor, Amaterasu, Odin etc.), AoE gears(stillwater greatsword, thiazi cape etc) and the limited bursts Fimbulvetr and Thousand tomb are the your best option. Usually you will get carried by your 5* ticket hero at early stages so my best advice is to focus on them(orbing, leveling gear etc.) and give them a good bunch of AoE gear so they can one shot or almost one shot any non tank unit. Two things you need to know here; -Most people pick Thor as their 5* hero because of his overall usefulness at connects,quests and arena so it is good idea to have either Freya or Gullveig(preferably Freya) in your team to be able to status the enemy thor. -Tanks have high DEF and low MDEF due to the lack of orbs and suitable mdef gear. This is why mages are more viable early than melee. Additionally, since tanks are more fragile early due to lack of orbs/gear, they rarely survive more than 3 or 4 turns before they get killed. This is why Staff of Anguish(onslaught 2* gear that applies fear for 2 turns to nearest enemy) is INSANELY good as it can entirely block the tank from filling their gauge and they will most likely die before it wears off, if you have solid DPS. Mid game In midgame your heroes are already orbed or almost orbed. This is where gear plays the most important role. Here, heroes have abit better defensive stats so you can`t one shot easily anymore thats why in this range, status effect inflicting gear plays major role in winning your matches. Focus on gear with status effects - valhalla gear,mani little helper, vigrid, Elysian dress etc etc. while still keeping some DPS and AoE gear to take the enemy down easier. Late game At this point all the heroes are orbed, you have solid gear, skills and LB barely take half or 1/3 HP of squishy targets so everything is about who has the higher power score, luck and the most suitable heroes to counter the enemy. Personal hero tier list and recommended team setups Some heroes are better at early stages but wear off at end game(Thor). Others are weaker at early stages but scale better at end game(Thrud). And third type of heroes are very good all arounders (Odin). Additionally, some heroes have a lackluster skill but extremely powerful gear(Hel). Others are very strong as heroes but their gear is lackluster (Luca). And ofcourse some are both powerful and have strong gear (Odin). This list is solely based on their PvP capabilities and not their connect,quest or other content capabilities. Heres my list of top PvP heroes: SS tier: Luca - while I hate her to the bone and promised that I`ll never use her, shes undoubtfully the best tank in the game and nothing really stands above her. She`s also a human and female so she can wear both purity ring and hardstone, making her resistant to charm and petrify. Urd - the best healer and arguably the best all around hero in the game by far. Odin - his combination of buffing and debuffing along with his strong dark and light resistances and AoE damage make him very formidable mage, especially effective on setups that run 3 mages due to his mdef debuff. Freya - the most reliable status effect inflicting mage. Is tanky, has the best magic limit burst, high MATK. Nothing much to say Ranco - the best all around archer in the game. Her skill does neutral damage so you dont have to worry about resistances. Also applies strong status effects and her gear applies a strong debuff that is useful for connects and boss stages(cough 6-6 Forgotten memories hell mode jormungand). S tier: Thrud - tanky, targets the enemy mages. Nowadays many mages lack water resistance(Odin, Amaterasu, Rin) so shes the most reliable damage dealer from the melee heroes. Thor - while he wears off at late stages, his AoE skill with the paralyze effect can still be solid. Especially if you run abit off meta and use him as a tank - he will be able to cast his skill faster thus blocking enemy humans(beasts and elves) earlier at the battle. Young Ymir and Genesis Ymir - both of them have the same strengths and weaknesses - while they deal high damage and bypass barriers, they dont bring anything else on the table like Odin does(buffs/debuffs) to be considered as good as him. Amaterasu - Highest MATK mage in the game, AoE skill, applies defense debuff and burn. I put her as S tier because her gear is rather lackluster compared to Odin and there are plenty of heroes resistant to fire. Matisse - the MATK ranco. The reason she isnt SS tier is because she hits less amount of targets and doesnt have her own gear. Additionally, shes more of a defensive support type of ranger while Ranco can be both defensive and offensive type. Momiji - shes the hero you can rely the most on taking care of the enemy backliners, her gear is exceptionally good. Hel - main reason she is ranked high is (surprise) her gear. It can however be a double edged sword since it can both help you win or help enemy win by time out. Sif and Zato - situational heroes but they have their use especially Sif since she does light damage and heroes like Skadi and Luca are weak to light. Skadi and Niji - they are very flexible as they can be used both for offense and defense. The main problem about them is due to their flexibility, their skill design is made to be viable for both tank and DPS setup but because of that it is lacking compared to real tank and real dps skills - niji barrier lasts only one turn, skadi can status effect only aesir etc etc. Marmalade - extremely useful turtle team hero thanks to her MATK reduction. Luflit - powerful anti mage hero, sadly she is only viable vs heavy MATK setups thus making her useless against melee Hrungir - the opposite of Luflit, extremely powerful vs melee as his skill paralyzes almost all melee heroes(including non airborne dwarfs like niji). However he is easy to status effect (charm) and only hits the front row so 1-3-1 teams for example counter him hard Best end game setups for every role I can divide the roles into 3: Conventional - all around tanky heroes with good offense Full offense - very strong at offense but also easy to kill Turtle - very tanky, low damage, their goal is to stall the game until you time out Here are my personal best setups for end game: Conventional - Luca, Thrud/Saber, Odin, Freya, Hel Focused primarily towards MATK. With gungnir and good bunch of AoE and status gears it can be deadly. Turtle - Luca, Skadi/Hrungir, Witch Idun, Urd, Matisse For me atleast this is by far the best turtle setup in the game. It has everything - buffs, barriers, status effects etc. If youre gonna build a turtle team I strongly suggest you avoid offensive gears and focus on defensive ones(glacial cloaks,druid cloaks, urd staff etc.). Only exceptions you can make are spine crusher, valhalla staff and gun, and curious mask. Offense team This is all depending on what kind of enemy you face. Not recommended against conventional teams Best if you use one melee, 3 or 2 mages and 1 or 2 rangers. Best melee to use include Mia, Ayame (still unreleased) and Thor Mages - Freya, Odin, Amaterasu, Ymir, Hel Rangers - Ranco, Matisse, Momiji, Canon That concludes this guide, I hope people find it useful. Happy PvPing

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moonlit-nightingale · 4 years

Text

.:RP:. Cursed

Warning(s): Trigger warnings for suicide and blood.

Characters: Saranqerel ‘Sari’ Qalli (male Xaela), Akio Obinata (male Xaela), Botan Kurenai (female Raen)

Origin Date: 22 Feb 20

“Death is easy. To live is the most painful thing I could imagine and I’m weak and no longer willing to fight.” —Hannah Wright

Everything is in place. Sari has left his farewell letters and wrapped up his affairs. And so he goes to depart in the quietest way. Though a new friend picks up the signs too late...perhaps the Qalli’s story isn’t over yet.

(Note: This is from an RP session. So there is a back and forth of writers. A - in between paragraphs indicate a change in narrator.)

< Hingan >

> Xaelic <

----

A letter and small box would have been left outside Akio's room a sennight after his and Sari's last talk. Enclosed within the envelope are two documents. One is a letter, one is an official document endorsed by a Gridanian embassy, complete with a corn-yellow seal. It states that Akio is, legally, Enqtani’s legal guardian. There is also a small box like those used to sell the tokens at the charm counter.

My friend,

I know we haven’t known each other long so please forgive my selfish requests especially after I’ve placed such a burden on your shoulders. Enqtani is loved by many at the temple, however I haven’t seen her attach to anyone as closely as you. It has been a short time but a child just knows. The sealed document is official documentation that you are now Tani’s guardian. It may just be a piece of paper but with it I’m trusting you to look after her best interests in my absence.

You have been kind and a wonderful friend. And I have the utmost faith that you will be a kind and wonderful father for Tani. You mentioned once that she should know her roots. There is little to tell. I found her abandoned on the Steppe during a hunt. All I can surmise is that she was a child conceived unwillingly. She has features or the Oronir tribe which were once the leaders of the Steppe and still hold themselves in high authority over others. Not all of them are bad but it is a privileged tribe. I expect you can follow my path in thinking of what may have occurred. If Tani wants to see the Steppe with her own eyes one day, seek out Khenbish of the Buduga at the town of Reunion. He is a healer and a good man. If you can’t find him, search for Yesulun of the Qestir and her mate Khaljar of the Oronir. They are among my dearest friends even if we have parted ways. Unfortunately I am unsure of their whereabouts but their names should be known in Reunion.

Ah, but I’ve rambled on. I wish to make this process as easy as possible for you. Please rely on the others if needed. Mr. Aoki is a stern man but he has looked after Tani many times when I needed assistance.

It is little payment for what I ask for you, but I hope this gift is acceptable. Thank you, Akio, and I thank you on behalf of Tani.

Winds carry you,

-S.Q.

Inside the box, carved from a reddish wood, was a crane. Its wings are spread, every feather meticulously detailed in its carving despite the small size as its long neck and head were raised high in a cry. The figure could rest on a grown man’s palm.

Akio's shift for guard duty had ended earlier than expected, that night. And though he was tired, the Eastern Xaela had been in a surprisingly good mood, that ever-present smile a little more genuine as he took long, measured strides to his quarters. A good night's rest after some meditation sounded absolutely splendid to the man.

The presence of the letter and box caused the samurai to pause, however, tail quivering just slightly in alarm as he watched it with keen black eyes. But with heightened guard, there was little worry of it being any sort of trap or bait; he kneeled, slowly, picking it all up and entering his room.

In the privacy of his quarters, he allowed the mask to slip from his face; a frown pulled at his expression as he opened the box, looking over the figure with a delicate awe, and then the letter, reading over the words swiftly.

What laced through his blood could only be described as ice-cold panic as he realized what these words meant.

A Hingan snarl dropped from his lips as he spun around on his heel, movement swift as he threw open the door and bolted down the hall towards Sari's quarters. No doubt the man would want to do it there; the clinic was far too impersonal, and even from their short time, he knew Sari would never wish to inconvenience the clinic staff or distress the patients there.

Thank the Kami he was relieved when he was- it gave him some small hope that this time he may not be too late.

But no, the room would be empty if he should knock and try to enter. The wards' rooms couldn't be locked. It was part of the temple's design. Why would a ward of this place have secrets to hide? The futon would be folded neatly in a corner and the room immaculate. Sari never really had too many personal effects and it seemed even those were gone.

The only thing left was a small bundle of letters, left for whoever may have peeked their head in.

Another swear, and he turned on his heel, heading for the clinic itself. If Sari wasn't in there... He had no idea where to look. But he wouldn't stop looking.

His rush nearly made the clinic's night time attendant eep loudly. There was something about an empty clinic in the dead of the night just just spooked this particular Auri young lady.

"Obinata-san, kami help me." She rested a hand over her chest.

Akio paused, examining the lady for a long moment; the mask was back on in an instant, though the smile was strained, showing just how much of a rush she was in.

"Have you seen Sari-san?" he asked quickly, tone leaving little room for questions.

That tone has the girl nearly eep once more. She shook her head. "Ah, I mean, he came in earlier for a few moments to tidy up and then left about a bell ago."

Tidy up? Why on earth would he need to tidy up the clinic?

"Did he say where he was going? This is- he must be found." He'd apologize to the poor girl properly later- no doubt he was an intimidating sight, agitated as he was.

"He is planning to kill himself."

She covered her mouth at those words. "Sari-san? But..." He was always so kind! And quick to help when she'd taken over the clinic duties just a sennight ago!

"I-I don't know. I thought he was going to visit a patient because he took supplies for the intravenous bags!"

"Intra..."

Akio murmured as he went over the word in his mind, taking a moment to translate it before another swear fell from his lips. Without another word to the poor attendant, he spun on his heel and ran out. Where could he be?!

Perhaps he left the temple grounds? But if he did, it made it nearly impossible to find him. Unless...

But Jebe never left Sari's side, and so the little bluebird would be little help, even if Akio could find the bird in time to find Sari to keep him from doing the irreversible. Damn it...

His mind was racing as he ran through the temple grounds, searching for any clues to where the Qalli might have gone.

As he went by the gardens, there was angry chirping nearby. At this time of the evening? Odd. It was near the small pond where Sari often took Tani to play when she had excess energy.

The bluebird was puffed in anger, flying about the small cage propped up on a rock. It was placed near the walkway, enough that some attendant would have found it the next morning and not endangering the small bird at all.

Akio froze when his horn caught the angry chirping, head snapping over.

The Kami were merciful this day! He rushed over, kneeling down with a soft clicking noise as he fiddled with the latch to open the cage.

"<I am here,>" he said quickly, throwing the cage door open for the little bird. "<Take me to him.>"

Oh angry birb was angry. He instantly dive-bombed Akio's face before flying off at a surprisingly quick pace down the stone path that led out of the temple.

Akio made a short 'pbbth' sound out of reflex. Hey, he was trying to save the man!

But he didn't have time to be offended at the little angry puffball, instead darting after Jebe as fast as the two of them could go.

How could such a small lil blue puffball be so quick? Jebe darted over Shirogane's infrastructure, heading down the slopes towards the beaches. Even then he still flew, heading away from the beach chairs, the awnings, away from what would populated areas in the day.

The beach... Water...?

It would be out of the way, for certain, leaving it near impossible to find the body. Was that what he'd wanted?

Akio was nearing breathless as he kept on the tail feathers of the small bird, eyes searching for the Qalli in an almost desperate fashion.

Rocks dotted the sand in some of the more remote parts, harder to climb and navigate over, rougher terrain.

And that's where Sari sat motionless. He was leaning against one of the rocks facing the water. The IV line ran to that flesh arm, put in with an expert hand. The sedative bag he'd stolen weeks ago was empty, rigged up over a stick.

At least he could watch the water he enjoyed under the silvery light of the moon as he’d fallen asleep.

No no no no no no no no!

Akio felt as if he'd been kicked in the chest by An Yeung, breath leaving him in a wheeze as he scaled over the rocks. Normally, he wouldn't have so much as slipped, but tonight he stumbled once or twice, hands flying out to keep himself moving forward.

"<What have you DONE?!>"

The question came out in Hingan, far harsher than he'd meant it, a near roar as he slid to one knee next to the Qalli. The damnable idiot! The stupid... Poor, pained man.

Akio knew better than to let anger lead him to blame. He knew what this was like. But Sari deserved better. To die like this....

"<You're not dying tonight!>" he hissed sharply.

But it appeared to be far too late. Sari was a healer of both traditional and aetherial means. He knew well enough of what would happen with a fast drip of a sedative of this nature. A sleepy death, far more peaceful than what he'd deserved. No mess for others to worry about if his body was found.

He hoped no one found him. That those letters were enough.

But those hopes were gone. His breathing had stilled, no rise and fall of his chest under the Eastern cloth. Silvery hair obscured most of his face, that one eye closed, head lulled against the rock and his shoulder.

Akio had been too late, by far, it seemed.

No...

Once more, Akio found himself holding a body in his arms, the Xaela quick to gather the Qalli to him as he tried to check for his pulse, his breathing, anything. Teeth gritted against an all-too familiar pain, he snarled, tail lashing against the sand and rocks. Fingers curled into the fabric, head lowered as long blonde locks fell over both his own face and Sari's chest, forehead pressed to his still breast.

"<No, please,>" he whispered, pleading, begging. It was all far too familiar, and the mask cracked, old wounds bleeding once more as he hunched there.

"<You silent, selfish fool.>"

He knew it wouldn't be heard. Knew the Qalli wouldn't be able to retort.

"<What of Enqtani?!>" he yelled now. "<You were her father! No one will replace you in her life!>"

It was quiet for once.

A quiet he used to only be able to find in the peace of the Shroud's embrace, days on his own in the Twelveswood. Soon though, even that place became haunted to his memories. There was always...something. Something to drag the Xaela back to the dark.

So he'd given up fighting it. Fell into sin and the bottle without care.

And it was why he finally had the resolve to fade away. He was a ghost. No one would care. Everyone had their lives, their loved ones, their families. Perhaps he was envious. But he was also glad for them.

So he'd smile and wish them all well, even as he faded from their thoughts. And he'd be left to the grey shadowy mist that had become his life. Ever since that day he'd walked into that empty house, a newborn in his arms.

Ever since he'd knew, with certainty, that a happy ending never awaited a ghost.

'>You fought me with such ferocity before. Where is that beast now?<'

The drums, he knew this from before. Before when they had met, it had been a raging river, blood, and mud.

'>I am most disappointed. I cannot allow my vessel to fade in such a pathetic manner. Show me that ferocity, that fire.<'

And suddenly Sari shot awake, falling to his side and away, retching. Breaths forced into his lungs, some force pushing that deadly toxin from his body in no way that should be possible.

Akio let out a small, muffled noise of surprise, eyes widening as he let go and nearly jumped back, hands up. What the...

He'd been dead... Dead! There had been no breath in his breast, no pulse underneath his fingers! And so he stared, wide-eyed and startled. How...?

He didn't speak, hands lowering, before one placed itself gently on the other male's back, some minute attempt at comfort.

Oh it burned, it hurt, yet was so unbearably cold at the same time. Shudders wracked his slender frame as he retched again and again into the sand. Toxicity was black on his lips, something having gathered all that poison he'd given himself and thrown it out in some unnatural way.

By the time he stilled, he was breathless, gasping for air and covered in sweat. Still not fully grasping what had happened.

An exhausted look to one arm that propped him up. The IV was still there. Then...what had happened?

"<You're alive...>"

If it weren't for the breathless awe and disbelief in Akio's tone, one might think he'd been answering Sari's unspoken question. But he wasn't; he was trying to affirm the truth for himself, in his own eyes. Sari was alive. Somehow, in some way, something had saved him.

Even he knew this shouldn't have been possible. And yet here he was, breathing, if barely. "<Easy, Sari-san, easy.>"

Sounds were beginning to return outside of the wild pounding of his heart echoing in his horns. The sound of the waves over the surf, a familiar voice. Sitting up, shaky, he saw Akio at his side.

He rubbed his mouth with a wrist, still feeling that sickening bile there. "...Akio-san... How..."

It was night, he hadn't been...out...long then.

"Why am I not..."

Gods, had he failed at this too? Could he even not kill himself correctly?

"You were," came the answer, soft and haunted, but he smiled, despite the pain in his eyes. "And now, you are not... I do not know why. I do not know what happened."

He sighed, pulling off the top part of his kimono to drape it over the Qalli, reaching to gingerly take out the IV. It was freezing out, especially at night by the ocean, but...

He didn't seem to mind, simply holding Sari's arm to stop the bleeding from the injection site.

"Why would you..." he trailed off, hesitating as deep black eyes flitted over to Sari's face.

"... What pain you must endure," he finished with a soft murmur.

...why? Why couldn't he even do this right? His throat tightened, foul taste still in his mouth. Had he guessed wrong? No, a full bag at that rate of drip, it couldn't have been metabolized in time for him to live. And if what Akio said was true...

A harsh swallow as the other Xaela tended to him, Sari not fighting it one bit. His own mask was in shambles, magitek hand going to cover his face as a sob escaped.

"...I just wanted it to be over," he strangled out. "I don't want to be here anymore, please."

Akio paused at this, a small frown pulling at his features as the mask slipped once more. Ah... What should he do?

He knew that people would need to be informed. The priests, for certain. Perhaps the guard, and the clinic staff. Those who would be able to keep an eye out, an eye on the man.

And...

He knew it was improper, but he'd spend enough time in the West that he was able to cast aside his upbringing's teachings for a moment to simply... pull the man into a tight hug.

"...You are much too desired in this world, to leave it so," he murmured softly.

"That's a lie!" was the sharp denial and he wanted to fight the hug so badly but he had no strength to, even more so as the tears flowed from that one blue eye. "They all leave, they always live, no one stays. Love doesn't mean anything. Not with me. I'm all alone."

The words he'd held back for so long, for years, gushed forth without stopping. Every little thought that had passed through his mind, that he wasn't good enough, that he wasn't worthy, that he was unwanted.

Akio didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to soothe the pain the Qalli suffered, or how to comfort him. So he simply sat there, for the time being, holding Sari, rocking him back and forth and shushing him gently.

"<You're not alone,>" he answered finally, wiping away those tears with one thumb. "<Through all the pain, you are not alone. Your death would leave a hole in the hearts of many, one that could never be filled again. I know not what words to say to convince you of this truth. I can only speak it plainly.>"

He let out a breath, cradling him as Akio sat there, eyes closing.

"<I'm not lying. I promise this.>"

"It is a lie. You're lying. I'm sorry." An instant apology at the accusation but it was true. Everyone lied.

Even as he listened to those Hingan words, his spilling out of words continued in Common.

"He said that, too. He said I'd be safe. That I could cry. That we'd be happy. And that he'd never leave me. It was a lie, again and again it was a lie!"

Voice rising to a wail, uncaring of who heard, how much a mess he was, damn his mask.

"<Then he was a liar, and a fool, and he never should have held your heart in his unworthy hands.>"

And still, Akio rocked, gently, like the ocean they sat beside as he held the wailing Qalli, holding him securely in his arms.

"<But you have family. Family, and a child, and friends, all of whom adore you and your presence.>" His words came across far better in Hingan; he didn't mind that Sari spoke in Common. He understood him, and so he could get across his meaning better. That was what mattered, just then, to the Eastern Xaela.

"<I'm sorry that you weren't safe... You deserved to be. You have always deserved to be.>" A small, gently squeeze in that hug, the taller man curling over the smaller just slightly. "<If only I could find him and force him to his knees to beg your forgiveness.>"

No no no no no. It was still lies. No one wanted him about unless they needed him for something. And Sari wanted to be angry but he couldn't be. They'd found happiness. He hadn't. He couldn't fault his friends that had found peace.

But it was godsdamned lonely when he'd been so close to the same and it had drifted like smoke through his fingers.

"...n-no. He left because I wasn't..."

Good enough? Worthy?

"<Because why...?>" came the gentle prodding, one hand rubbing Sari's back gently.

"<If you say it's because you weren't good enough, then you view yourself too poorly.>"

Exhausted, face red with his tears and sorrow, he rested his chin on Akio's shoulder and nodded. It was true. He was disgusting, used, weak. That was why. Not smart enough, strong enough, charming enough, brave enough.

"<I refuse to believe that,>" Akio retorted firmly, resting his own chin on Sari's shoulder. "<Whoever this weak-willed man was...>" He trailed off, shaking his head.

"<I don't have the words to describe the kind of filth he was.>"

"No, he..." His hands weakly rested against Akio's back. "...he was good. I just wasn't...meant for him. I trapped him."

That's what the bonding had done. Khabi had seen what a weak person he'd tied himself to. That's why he'd left, right?

"<If you simply were not meant for each other, then why did he not say so?>"

Akio shook his head. "<If he wasn't able to tell you such things, to talk to you about it, he was weak.>" He pulled back, looking at Sari with a firm expression, mouth pulled into a frown as he stared the Qalli in the eye.

"<It is not your fault, Saranqerel.>"

...it was. It always would be. Why did everyone always leave? There was only one constant in all of that. Those words threatened to spill out but he was so tired, so frustrated that he couldn't even do this deed right.

Shaking his head, Sari looked to the sand. How could he still be crying?

"Can you..." Shite, he was fighting hiccups. "...leave me here?"

"No."

The word was spoken in Common now, as he shook his head. There was no way in the seven Western hells he was about to leave Sari alone right now!

"I am afraid I cannot do that."

"Please."

How could he go back now? Everything was in place. Things were finally ready. There was finally going to be quiet.

But there was little fight left in the Qalli as he begged. Just let him rest where he wasn't a burden to anyone.

"Iie," he repeated in Hingan. "You may rest with me. But I will not be leaving you alone. This is final."

Akio's tone left little room for argument- or at least that was the intent. He didn't know what else the Qalli might do, but he was damn sure not going to let him try again.

"...you'll leave...in time."

That was a guarantee. Just wait it out. Like everyone else. As he relaxed his hold on the other Xaela, his hand brush the hilt of that katana the samurai had at his waist.

A weapon he'd learned to use from someone else that had abandoned him, turned against him. There was a flash of anger somewhere deep and before he knew it, Sari went to draw that blade in a swift motion as he leaned back. Quickly he got to his feet, though stumbling a bit as he did so.

There was the softest 'sorry' as he raised the blade, going to drive it into his chest.

Akio swore, and in an instant he was on his feet, surging forward to grab at Sari- the sword, his arm, whatever he could grab.

Likely the sword, and the razor sharp blade would cut into his fingers, a pain he would brush aside in favor of throwing the sword away from the Qalli. "<ENOUGH!>" He bellowed.

It was just a bit too late, that magitek arm giving the former Adder the strength advantage.

...yes, pain. But it was nothing he wasn’t used to. The sword impaling him through and through before Akio ripped it from his grasp.

...had it been enough? He sunk back down to his knees in the sand.

Akio snarled, throwing the sword away now as he grabbed for Sari. If that was how it would be, then so be it.

He was swearing up a storm that would make a seasoned sailor tremble in fear. His goal would be to pick up the Qalli and rush him back to the shrine.

"<I will NOT have your blood on my blade!!>"

No! A return of that snarl from the smaller Xaela.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Anger rising to meet anger. Everything had been arranged. It was time to go. He swiped with the claws of that weaponized arm but he was already feeling faint, unable to fight it when the samurai lifted him from the damp sand.

"I will not abandon you," came the snarled reply as he bolted over the sand and rock, booking it as fast as his legs could go.

He needed to call ahead, but his arms were full, and so he simply ran, pushing until his legs burned then pushing further.

The anger soon faded as the blood loss began to drain him of such things. Soon his head rested limply against Akio's chest. ...and then again he gasped for breath violently, so much like before.

No no no. Could he...not...

>A small spark of that fire, not nearly enough. Impress me, child of the moon.<

Once Akio finally reached the shrine, he burst in through the door, offering a silent apology to the resident Kami. Any damages would be repaired later, the Xaela was on a mission.

He called out for the night clinic as he rushed to it, ground Sari as if he were the one dying.

That poor young woman was still there and anxious. But at least she had a good enough head on her shoulders to have things ready for the worst. And when she saw the two Auri men, and that blood, she directed Akio to the closest bed.

"...I can't die," Sari mumbled.

"No, you cannot," came the response, though Akio misunderstood what it was Sari had meant, immediately rushing the man to the nearest bed and setting him down, immediately backing up to give the woman room to work

. He looked haunted, tail lashing violently as he stood there. "Anything I can do to help, instruct me."

There was the sound of books falling over in the back. Botan had been given a room, and yet...she was asleep under a blanket that was under a pile of books, half beneath the low sitting table. A yawn left her as she stretched herself out and nose wiggled at the scent of blood. The shadows eager, but she stilled them. Least another ghostly movement spook another clinic worker.

She got up, dressed in the standard shrine attire she had stolen from the common rooms. Her wooden sandals clicking on the floor as she approached. "Assistance needed?" She inquired with unblinking eyes. "It seems the answer is 'yes,' but will not invade unless wished for."

That tail was still, lips in a straight line, and eyes unblinking as she stood before the scene without an iota of emotion portrayed.

Ah the poor healer never ceased to he spooked by Botan, even after knowing she was there!

"Yes, please. This may require stitches."

Though Sari was obviously dazed by the blood loss, he knew...he knew. Why hadn't he died on the Steppe before being found by Khenbish? Had that plunge in the river, those drums...what Shonkhor had seen.

Not a crazed vision?

Akio simply bowed his head and stepped out of the room, remaining out of the way of the two medics as he stood against the wall, closing his eyes.

Blearily the Qalli tried to get his bearings. The familiar scent of the clinic. He'd been in here just bells before... His mind was still reeling from the revelation. If that's what it was and not some nonsensical shite.

Botan was in the room. No ceremony to the matter. Just pulling out a pouch of the pain killing incense from her sleeve and filling the bronze incensor before lighting it on fire. Then she was sitting over Sari. Her hands resting over that wound in the gut, fingers lingering over it as she focused on the composition of aether and murmured calculations on the fly as she steadily studied Sari's biology through the geometric patterns she etched in her mind.

Every bit of her form was still. The shadows seemed to withdraw, shrinking in towards her and feeding into her power as she focused. They were every bit an extension of the small raen woman.

To her eyes, she may have seen the shadow that had curled itself tightly into Sari's aether. Foreign, spread evenly through every aspect of the Xaela and content to be where it was. Oddly dormant, just...there. It was nothing like the near feral aggressive curse of the kitsune that he'd suffered from for a good year. In fact, that curse has been completely obliterated by this new presence.

Botan was aware of that presence, but did not disturb it. No. She would simply work around it, add it to her calculations, and apply new formulaic patterns of aether into Sari's own. Those that would encourage flesh to stitch itself together and slow the bleeding. Her brow creased and lips pursed together as calculations were rumbled off.

If it would not allow her to heal him, she would simply brute force her way past it. That or she would show it who the scarier creature was. Not that she thought she could bully something like this...something far older than she; a mere raen youth of twenty-some-turns.

Oh the presence didn't fight the healing, no. In fact it held strands of aether close, not letting the flesh fall into death. A threshold of sorts. Sari could very much end up close to death but that final step into the lifestream wouldn't be taken.

Interesting.

The work was slowly finished and her fingers pressed against the fabric over the wound. Those digits dipped in blood and eyes open again as she sensed how flesh gave way to her calculus. There was no grin of victory. No whoop of astonishment.

No.

This was peculiar. Curious. The violet false eye with its mandala like patterns fixed on Sari.

"You have ventured far and brought shadow back with you."

The pain killers helped sooth her own pains. A twist in her gut told her she had pushed herself too far aetherically, but she ignored it. That tail ticked and she lifted her hands away to look at the blood. No blinking, just...rubbing fingers against one another.

"Fate is not done with you yet, Saranqerel." Then she looked at the woman. "Clean. Stitch the surface wound that remains."

Then there was a yawn. Botan was ready to retreat back to where she came. Like some horror slinking away into their closet until the next time someone had need of her and her arcanistry.

The Auri nurse watched with some nerves. How could one not be unnerved watching Botan work? But she nodded and went straight to work. Ritsuka didn't hire weak-willed employees, after all. Especially for the clinic.

The stitches were made evenly, front and back where the blade had pierced. Then wrappings about his middle. And, in some irony, an IV attached for fluids and antibiotics.

Putting everything away and washing her hands, she went to peek out into the hallway. "Obinata-san, he'll be alright."

Akio turned his head, and, mask back in place, he smiled, despite the blood that coated his front. It wasn't anything he was unused to, and so it didn't seem to bother him. At least, now that Sari was okay.

"You have my deepest thanks," he said with a low bow.

Botan just looked at Akio. The raen quiet, and unmoving in that moment before her stomach growled to cut into the moment.

All she said: "Beef Udon. Three sets."

Akio turned his head to look to the other Raen with a chuckle and another bow. "My thanks to you as well- if it will serve to repay even a small portion of my debt to you, I shall see it done."

He turned then, setting off unless stopped, to go get that Raen some damn beef udon.

Botan sat on the stool in the room, and just waited. That tail swishing. Good. Though her attention was fixed on Sari again. Academic curiosity in that gaze.

The nurse was sure to return the bow with a smile before returning to the clinic. She had to write everything in the changeover log for the day shift and what supplies had been used...as per Mitsue and Mashuel's rules.

As for Sari, he drifted in and out of awareness. But that gaze on him pulled him more to reality. He tiredly looked over, pale and a mess from his sobbing earlier. "...can you see what it is...?"

"A thing of the Steppe. This is what their old knowledge tells me..." A hand lifts and taps one horn. Though the shadows are watching. "Well it is my knowledge now."

This is a reference to the Xaela back in the Steppe she had first aetherically devoured to fix her own aether. With it perfectly assimilated she was back to the pale flesh and red hair rather than that ugly dark complexion she never liked. Not that she was a vain creature. Not like her mess of a dead father.

"It is what kept you alive."

"...then it wasn't a nightmare." Slowly he pulled the sheets up to his chin. Ugh he was utterly drained on every other possible level. "I can't die then."

Of course...of course. The one solace he could bring to himself, denied.

"Death is not an escape." Botan said in an observant matter. "You simply pass the burden of pain to those you leave behind." A flick of the tail. "Look at your friend who tried so hard to fight to keep you alive too."

"...he shouldn't have."

Why? Yes, he and Akio had had some good times. But they'd known each other for a few moons. Why would he...bother?

Botan didn't even frown. She just fixed her unblinking gaze on Sari. What a dumb question. The tail flicked and she simply breathed deep of the pain killing smoke.

"Every life is precious, even those that are destined to be eaten." Botan explained. "It's not about the why and the who, it is about the preciousness of that gift. The holiness of that cycle."

"I don't want it..."

How was any of this a gift? Being left alone again and again. Never being granted a happy ending...

"...can you check on Obinata-san? I think he hurt his hands earlier."

It was just then that Akio entered once more, hands wrapped to keep that blood from getting into the udon.

"I do believe I have a delivery!" he announced, far too cheerful for what had happened and how he'd felt not a quarter bell earlier.

He smiled bright, looking to Botan as he held the noodles. "Where do you want me to put these?"

Botan looked at Akio.

There is something broken in this one.

Though she at least kept the thought in her head and didn't blurt it out with the same heavy handed honesty she served Sari. That ivory tail flicked, and hands reached out for the udon. In an instant she had the chop sticks plucking up a swirl of the good beefy udon to take a bite.

Any harsh words of knowledge were lost for now. She would just chew and think. Though she did look at the wrapped hands.

No it required none of her energy, let the other woman handle it.

Meanwhile in the bed, Sari had to look away. Hand clenched in the sheets. How could he look at Akio after that?

Fortunately he was saved as the nurse came by after cleanup to see that blood. "Obinata-san! What are you doing? Over here!" She grabbed his wrist, trying to pull him over to a medical station.

Akio had opened his mouth, wanting to speak with Sari- but then he was dragged away, and he laughed slightly. It would be easy for him to resist, but he let himself follow as if he were no stronger than a child, tail fluttering behind him.

"Hai hai, my apologies miss!"

Botan had a moment where she felt like laughing, but didn't. Though her gaze went back to Sari.

"Fate, the Twelve, the Kami, or whatever has given you something, Sari. An opportunity." She moved chopsticks lazily through the soup, gathering noodles. The fat things rolled around through the beef brother as she seemed to play with her food. "An opportunity that you can take, face them down with, and carve your way through the hell you've been given. The question is," she lifted the roll of noodles hanging from the chopsticks, "will you tear down your tormentors, or let them devour you?"

Those eyes looked to him unblinking. "After all, the thing attached to you does look delicious."

"Then take it." There may have been a bit of a snap to his tone.

Botan shook her head. "Looking delicious and wanting to eat it are different things." Udon noodles were slurped in not-so-graceful a way. "I want to see you challenge your path, Sari. Show whatever gods there are in this world that you will not sit under their heel no more. That is what I really want, because you're a dear friend not a morsel."

"I don't give a shite about any of that!" he snapped, fangs bared.It seemed sorrow had warped to anger.

He covered his face. It was so unlike him to be like this.

No one understood. No one got that he was so bloody tired!

Akio, from where he'd been taken by the nurse, looked up. It hadn't been hard to hear that in the quiet of the clinic. How he wanted to go to the poor man's side, offer him some comfort, even if he didn't want it.

A soft sigh escaped him, and he looked down once more, to watch as the Raen woman did her work.

Botan shrugged. The girl wasn't going to push back and forth with him, and simply moved to stand. There was a look at Akio, and she just left the room to go back to her hiding place in the back room to finish her noodles and get back to sleeping. It wasn't her place to fix broken minds and hearts after all.

The Auri nurse was very obviously troubled with the back and forth, but unsure of what to say. So she kept to bandaging Akio's hands, both disinfected and wrapped firmly.

"There. I know it's difficult but try to limit as much use as you can. Ask for help in tasks, alright?"

Akio smiled warmly, tilting his head to the side. "Hai," he said with a playful sort of reluctance. "If I must trouble others, then I shall under the doctor's orders." A crooked grin given to the Raen woman, before he stood with a bow of thanks, making his way back to Sari's bedside.

The Xaela's anger still simmered but there was no one to direct it towards and it quickly fizzled out as he stared out the window. A cold rain had started, obscuring the moon's light over Shirogane. Depressing. Fitting.

"Sari-san..."

The name was soft, gentle, as Akio watched the other Xaela, expression turning sympathetic, perhaps almost sad, if not for that smile staying in place. It ill befitted the scene.

That burned side was closest to Akio, hiding the one good eye which closed at the sound of his voice.

Anger that he'd been stopped.

Anger that, even if he hadn't been, it wouldn't have meant anything.

Sorrow that someone had to witness all of that.

It's why Sari had slunk off and away.

"...I'm sorry. You should take some painkillers and rest."

"I am not leaving you alone."

Despite the gentle tone, it was, once again, firm. Resolute. Akio simply watched as he sat there, watched the Xaela stare out the window, at the rain.

He wanted to be angry, himself, but he couldn't bring himself to be. He was just.... sad. He wanted to help, even if the two of them were near strangers.

"I will be perfectly fine," he added now, tail curling to one side as he leaned back, smiling. "It is nothing I have not endured before. Perhaps less so."

The Xaela chuckled, tilting his head to one side.

"....I am sorry to have stopped you, Sari-san..." Once again that quiet, gentle tone. Almost regretful, but not quite.

What could he say to that? That he accepted the apology? No.

He'd wanted to go. He still did. But that wasn't an option anymore.

....so what did he say?

"Please don't tell anyone else. I don't want to..." Deal with it.

They'd care for a few moments, fuss over him. Then fade back into their happy lives once more. He didn't want to ne envious, bitter. Sari was glad those he knew had found peace. But...he'd wanted it too.

"...You need help."

It was a quiet observation, the Xaela almost frowning. Almost. He couldn't let the mask drop again, not like that. By the Kami....

He lowered his head, hands folded together against his forehead as he stared at the floor. What did he answer with? He couldn't just not tell the priests, or Ritsuka. Sari needed to be put on suicide watch, to keep him from doing it again. He needed help....

He needed to want it first, though, this much Akio knew. It was a universal truth to many problems. Someone who didn't want help would only reject it.

"I am certain you are angry with me," he said softly. "And I am certain that you will be angry with me for my answer. But you must understand, I am bound, by contract and honor, to report this."

"Feck honor," was the snap, though he kept staring at the window.

What did honor do? The twisted pride of the Steppe? The samurai code those at Kotodama supposedly adhered to? The Grand Company that had thrown him aside because of something he couldn't control?

Akio let out a breath, brow furrowing now.

"I will not throw aside mine to suit the ends of another."

Grumbles in Xaelic as Sari rolled over despite the pain of his injury. No, he didn't want to deal with this. He may say something more he'd regret.

Safe from death, perhaps, but not safe from the recovery that came of the incident.

Another sigh, and Akio settled back in his chair, arms crossed over his front as he closed his eyes. He likely wouldn't sleep tonight, instead meditating. Some form of rest, while keeping alert.

"I said I would not leave you alone, Sari-san," he said gently. "I mean this, as an oath." And Akio did not break his oaths.

"I didn't ask for your oath," was the grumpy mumble as he pulled the blanket over his head.

Nor did he ask for acceptance. But he didn't voice this aloud, simply remaining silent now.

And silence met silence as Sari tried to sleep. As much as he didn't want to, the stress of high emotions and whatever his body was doing sapped him.

Eventually with the sound of the cold winter rain, his eye shut and he drifted off in the darkness of his blanket lair.

#roleplay

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twitter-hikari · 7 years

Text

a newly written poem

I said, Harry/Ginny/Tom, you all said, I ship it, and here I am 3k later. You’re welcome.

Tom is a genius, but sometimes he could be a real idiot.

He didn’t read the fine print or something, but only one person was supposed to put their heart in him.

Instead he’s got two, and he is fascinated by these children, not that much younger than he is.

(here be a read more)

Ginny, the only girl, always expected to be one thing when she’s dying to be another

And Harry, lonely and alone, and such a similar past that Tom can almost reach out of the diary from those emotions alone.

Tom loses interest in the basilisk, because he has these people who rely on him for emotional support. No one has done that since before the incident with the rabbit at the orphanage. And this reliance is new and fascinating. He wishes to study it and them.

~*~

Harry spends the summer in Diagon Alley. Tom is left with a Ginny who is lonely again at the Burrow. The only girl, not wanted around her brothers. Worth defined by her gender. Her quill almost tears great rents in the pages of the diary. Tom feels more glutted than he has ever been.

Harry meets up with the Weasley’s in the Alley. Ginny shoves the diary at him and walks away in a huff. That night, Harry sits down at the desk in his room and writes to Tom. Tom is ready for the loneliness, but Harry fills him with the mundane things living in Diagon Alley for three weeks.

~*~

Tom does not do well with the Dementors. More specifically, he does not do well with Harry’s reaction to the Dementors. That was the first time Harry and Ginny learned that Tom could come out of the diary.

When Harry breaks his broom on the Whomping Willow, he doesn’t say anything to the team really. No broom, he can’t play. He misses flying. The stupid Cleansweeps don’t do anything right. Ginny commiserates, and that’s when Tom invites them into the diary.

~*~

Ginny is determined to get Harry back on his broom. She badgers Professor Lupin to teach Harry about the Patronus Charm and bullies Harry out of his slump and into the classroom. Professor Lupin refuses to let her try, claiming that it was hard enough that Harry was doing this at thirteen, he was not going to let her twelve year old self attempt to face the boggart.

Tom teaches her. Inside the diary, they spend time going over the wand movements and incantation until Ginny is certain that there is something shimmering at the tip of her wand.

~*~

The stupid thing with Wormtail makes it’s way to Tom. Harry had been so ready to leave Privet Drive and those dreams had been dashed. Tom soothes Harry. It was hard to see his people so angry.

~*~

Actually, of all the things that have threatened to split the three of them permanently, it was the graveyard at the end of the tournament.

Ginny remembers sitting in the stands, quill in hand as she and Tom wait for Harry to come out. They don’t care if he wins, just that he is alive. Charlie has given Ginny some of the specs of the maze. The sphinx and the Acromantula make her quill stutter across the page as she relays everything for Tom.

Then Harry and Cedric have reached the middle of the maze. Ginny is relieved. Harry will be out and they could have a calm summer. Her quill is lowered to the page to tell Tom that Harry is out safely when the crowd in the stands have gone quiet.

They’ve disappeared. But not reappeared. Tom’s writing rises to the page in spikey jerks, responding to the ever-widening blotch of ink on the page.

The diary suddenly shrieks. Ginny is panicked, covers it up with the excuse of dumping her ink bottle, which is a plausible excuse, seeing as how she and her robes are drenched in the ink that has suddenly seeped from the pages

Tom doesn’t respond to her frantic message. Ginny feels very small and alone.

A chill sweeps over the stands and Ginny knows that magic. That is Tom’s but older, angrier.

Emptier.

Some time passes while the teachers cluster with the Ministry officials. Percy is in there somewhere, Ginny knows. She got a letter from him about it.

Then a soft vibration catches her attention. It’s Tom’s diary. A soft golden glowing and then there is a thump on the green in front of the stands.

It’s Harry.

He has Cedric with him.

~*~

Harry rolls on the grass with a groan. Cedric coughs and sprawls next to him. The Portkey trip back was no less fun than the one that took them to the graveyard in Little Hangleton in the first place. Harry is glad that Cedric fell behind one of the taller head stones after Wormtail attempted to kill him. It was likely what had prevented Voldemort from actually killing him.

Harry and Cedric are hauled away from each other, both questioned. They testify that yes, Voldemort is back. Harry rubs his hands on his trouser legs. They feel weird after that gold cage thing his and Voldemort’s wands did.

Fudge dithers for a while before dismissing their statements of Voldemort’s return to power. They’re just boys, he insists. Can’t know what they’re talking about.

Cedric is furious when he hears of this dismissal later. He did not survive Death Eaters and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named just to be not heard. He searches out the Order of the Phoenix that summer, who send him Tonks and Kingsley’s way. They could always use more Aurors.

Ginny and Tom sneak into the Hospital Wing that night. Harry is there, when is he not?, and under the cloak of night and Invisibility, Ginny and Tom share what happened while Harry was in his battle.

~*~

That summer is the worst. Not as bad as it could have been. Harry has Tom.

Ginny is going spare at Grimmauld Place, but she knows that the Order has plans to bring Harry. She bides her time, sneaking into the Black Library at night. She spends a large chunk of her time in the attic watching Buckbeak. Sirius is confused by this fourteen year old girl, but is reminded of the angry snap of teeth from another girl at and the flounce of red hair. He doesn’t mention it, Ginny deserves to be her own person.

~*~

When the nightmares start, it’s not of Cedric dying.

Well, they are. It’s more what if he actually had died. And Cedric is replaced by others. Ron. Hermione. Neville, who has become more confident under the tutelage of the DA. Luna rarely stars in his dreams, he doesn’t want her to.

Ginny and a young man with dark hair and eyes.

They are the most frequent replacements. Harry doesn’t want them to ever be caught out, knows that Umbridge is setting them up for failure.

~*~

Frustration causes his already cramped writing to thicken to illegibility.

Tom just lets him rant. He knows the feeling of inadequacy, knows that there is nothin he can say that will help. So he waits until Harry has left small splotches on the page and Ginny is quietly doodling on the other. Then he suggests a movement, an association.

An Army.

The DA starts small. Harry has been writing to Cedric over the school year, and Cedric is happy to relay his basic Auror training.

But then Cedric convinces Cho and Marietta. And Luna drifts in. The ranks swell, and with Cedric standing behind Harry, the students of Hogwarts are less vocal against him. Cedric was popular, and he levers that. Drops a word in an ear on a Hogsmead weekend. Makes rounds and suggests to parents that the Defense Association really is just concerned students who want to make the most of their education.

Enough parents make noise to the Board of Governors that an inquiry is made into Umbridge. The blood quill comes up. The ministry removes her from the position and hastily removes the position of High Inquisitor.

The staff shuffled around, which lead to professor Snape teaching DADA and professor Slughorn coming out of retirement to teach potions. When Tom was told about their new professor, he filled the page with laughter.

~*~

There are these dreams. Harry doesn’t like them, is tired of being woken by dreams of a dark room.

He explains them to Tom. Tom promises to teach him and Ginny occlumency. One never knows when they will need it.

And then the dream about Sirius in the Hall of Prophecy happens.

Harry is gone so fast. There is a quick note dashed in the diary for Tom before he and Ginny have gone with Ron and Hermione and Neville and Luna.

And Tom is furious.

He wants to be there for them, whispers to the Lovegood girl who picks the diary up. She knows better than the rest of them what they are going into and what the diary is.

He comes along tucked into a front pocket. Luna presses the diary into Ginny’s hands before they enter into the Department of Mysteries. Ginny blinks at the book before patting the cover. She slips it into her pocket. Stay with Harry , Tom whispers. Stick like glue to him. You know what he gets up to.

And does she ever. The TriWizard Tournament was the most awful thing.

Ginny shook herself out of the memories. Careful Tom whispered. The Department of Mysteries has some strange effect of the mind. Ginny nods and darts forward to stick to Harry’s tail.

It was a noble plan, and she would probably have been able to do it, but the Death Eaters forced a separation. She found herself fighting with Neville and Luna, backed against some shelves. Ginny bumped backwards and saw the tremble of a poorly grounded shelf. She grinned at the Death Eaters and shoved at the shelving. The prophecy orbs shatter and she laughs as the shelves collapse onto the three wizards menacing them. Ginny pats her pockets and finds the diary gone.

~*~

Harry knows that Sirius isn’t here, so when he turns to see the Order flooding into the Department of Mysteries, there’s a moment of disorientation. He sees Sirius taunting Bellatrix, knows that is wrongwrongwrong . His heart screams in denial as the jet of light knocks his godfather into the Veil.

The laughter in Sirius’ eyes disappears.

~*~

He lunges after Bellatrix. She killed his godfather, she was going to die. When he catches up to the madwoman in the Atrium, and the Crucio passes a red haze descends over Harry’s mind. He can feel the presence of Voldemort, the mastermind behind the nightmares and dream-visions. And he feels it tearing in two ways. Let me in you fool!

Tom? Harry thinks. There is a weight in his pocket that wasn’t there on the flight over.

Bellatrix grovels at the hem of her Master’s robes. The reptilian face hardly twitches at her actions. “We finally meet again Harry. What is it that you have for me?” His hand dips down and his finger brushes over the cover as the splitting in his head crescendos.

~*~

Tom has always had a semblance of a body. What worries and fears and love and protection that Harry and Ginny have put in his diary separately and together have ensured that he has enough energy to pull together a corporeal form. But it’s just a shade. Dramatically diminished from what he used to be, goals drastically shifted from what they once were.

So when he finds himself sprawled on the floor of the Atrium of the Ministry for Magic, his older ( twisted ) self standing with his wand glowing green at the tip, Tom reacts with the strongest piece of magic he can.

His magic flickers and sparks, before dying out. Tom is stunned, this must be some side effect from the presence of so many horocruxes, but he is buffeted by the winds and shards of glass that come when Harry’s hand clasps into his. Tom’s magic crackles into life, leaving him breathless. Not even in his wildest dreams had he thought this could be the thrum of magic beneath his fingers.

The snake looking version of him is standing with his wand limp. No spells come their way. It seems that his magic has deserted him. Tom thinks back to how Ginny had dropped the wizards in the Hall of Prophecy and grins.

Like this, Ginny whispers. Follow the cleave in the rock and use leverage. His fierce lioness who roars into the winds against her.

Gotta make it big enough to catch him, but not Bellatrix. Harry is tired and heart sore but so strong under that.

Tom feels them together and brushes against their minds one more time, sorry , and sends Harry flying into an alcove and brings the ceiling down on his and Voldemort’s head.

~*~

Harry can hear screaming. It’s terribly loud and ringing in the Atrium. Oh, it’s him, screaming for Tom to appear. He can feel people moving the rubble away from his alcove, the one Tom had flung him into before-, just before.

But he can’t feel Tom. The people are there now, moving him and Tom isn’t there. A body is laying still and silent, half crushed by stone, but it’s enough to identify the person.

“There he is.” Harry’s voice is harsh from the screaming. “That is Voldemort and he is dead . Now leave me alone and let my friends be.”

They had discussed the drawbacks of Harry’s fame, once, him never being able to finish the school year. His friends hounded at every turn. Tom had suggested just going. Now Tom was gone and he twists to get back to the base of the fountain and the people let him. There’s nothing there except a tiny book. Harry scoops it up and lets the healers and Aurors swarm him. It’s gone foggy now, and Harry just wants Tom and Ginny. He just gets Ginny sobbing into his shirt, as the diary lays open with black ink dried on the page. Tom are you there?

It turns summer. Noses are counted on both sides. Sirius is still alive, thanks to the timely intervention of Cedric with a quick ‘Accio’. It saved him from plunging into the Veil and the healers were able to reverse the curse Bellatrix had cast. Wormtail cracks as the Dark Mark stops responding. Tonks takes great pleasure in hauling the coward in and through the proper trial.

Harry leaves the Dursleys and doesn’t look back. ~*~

Harry feels the absence of Tom like a weight around his neck. He catches Ginny lifting her quill to write the amusing anecdote of the day. He finds himself doing it too. They can always turn to each other, but it is easy to pull each other off balance.

They graduate. Harry first, with Ron and Hermione and Neville. Cedric comes to their graduation. His hugs for Ron and Hermione are tight, a relationship born from the damage the Department of Mysteries. Then Ginny and Luna. Luna leaves with Neville to go apprentice with Newt Scamander in America. Ginny and Harry work as best they can.

Their rows grow to epic proportions, generally over highly dangerous activities. Sirius and Remus say that they have nothing on Lily and James. This is good. Neither of them is like the previous generation. They are their own people. Ginny copes with adrenaline. She goes around with Sirius on their motorbikes and works her way through the underbelly of London. Comes back with teeth bared, and slightly blood stained. Sirius quietly suggests becoming a hit wizard.

Harry doesn’t want to fight. He is good at it, but there was a loss of satisfaction. It will always be a reminder to him of how he lost Tom in the most important fight of his life. Harry quietly looks into healing, apprenticing himself and working through his requirement before going off with Ginny. They tour the world for a while, finding trouble and fixing it. Harry’s always had that saving people thing.

Neither of them expected to be in Albania.

~*~

If you ask Ginny, Albania had clusterfuck written all over it.

It was a dodgy job, with a shady contact. Everyone knew that Albania had its weird magical quirks. It was like someone had taken the Bermuda Triangle and shaken it out! No one accepted jobs to Albania. Except this dumb idiot.

She looks at Harry with a smile. They were good together. Not like what they had with Tom, but still good. She’s surprised that they even made it after they both started their post Hogwarts education. Harry had been determined to keep her safe, refused to let her go anywhere without him there. The screaming match over that had ended with months of radio silence. They had both thrown themselves into their work.

The separation was good. Made them learn who they were without Tom. Harry came out of it with a bleeding heart that couldn’t say no to a pair of Krup puppy eyes from the local kids.

And Ginny was still the sap who gave in to his own Krup puppy eyes.

Which was why they were in the middle of BFE, and Harry was talking to a snake.

~*~

If you ask Harry, Albania was a godsend. Ginny had been chomping at the bit to go nuts on something, so what better than some place that had no people and they just had to go track down this relic that was causing weird weather patterns.

He spells up a basket and the Runespoor slithered into it. He had to promise it three mice to ensure cooperation, but damn, he was excited. “There’s a clearing not that far ahead that the Runespoor says is the center of the patterns.”

He catches Ginny rolling her eyes. “Whatever it is hero, it’ll need to wait until tomorrow.” They set up the tent with ease and spell wards up. Harry takes the time to watch the sun dip behind the trees and tuns to head in to where Ginny is sitting with a journal.

They both had them and wrote regularly. Habits are hard to break, especially ones made over years of time. Harry made to shut the flap behind him when a grey mongoose walks into the campsite.

It rears up, growing larger by the second until a man with dark hair and eyes stands at the edge of the wards.

“It certainly took you long enough.”

~*~

When Tom is asked, why Albania, he smiles and shakes his head. "Some unfinished family business. Harry and Ginny were kind enough to help me. Our correspondence had been ongoing for years before they came to Albania.“ He shrugged a little helplessly.

"It was rather funny. I received a love poem that Ginny had intended for Harry. I responded, and was drawn to them.” His eyes flash red as he looks out the window. It was a trick of the light. He smiles and it’s like the sun piercing through a cloud bank. Tom moves to the door and crouches, catching the small child that came barreling inside. Harry bears another on his hip and leans in to give Tom a kiss. Ginny ducks past them and Tom catches her for a hug.

A little diary rests on the table in the kitchen. It is small and worn, ink stained and faded. It is filled with words and pictures. It documents their life.

The word love has always tasted like the scent of fresh ink and soft paper to me. Like a newly written poem. Megan Hart, Tear You Apart

#Harry Potter #ginny weasley #tom riddle #harry/ginny/tom #my fic

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idolizerp · 5 years

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LOADING INFORMATION ON HEAVEN’S MAIN DANCE RYU EUNBI ...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: Evie CURRENT AGE: 24 DEBUT AGE: 16 TRAINEE SINCE: 14 COMPANY: 99 SECONDARY SKILL: Fashion design

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): lemonie (due to her alleged lemon obsession), eve (due to the close proximity of her stage and group name with religious themes), cool girl. INSPIRATION: claims to be inspired by company seniors, as well as her parents’ work ethic. SPECIAL TALENTS:

drawing: stems from her fashion designing skills; she’s able to sketch things in a manner that is both quick and efficient, and is exceptionally good at games such as pictionary.

speed dancing: has good choreographic memory, can accurately perform a variety of routines at increased levels of speed.

physical flexibility: resulting from dedicated practice (especially in acro dance), she likes to impress with gymnastic manoeuvres such as front/side splits, and backbends.

NOTABLE FACTS:

graduated from seoul’s school of performing arts.

has an eye for fashion, designs much of her own streetwear.

was a member of a youth choir before joining 99 entertainment.

excellent cook, began preparing meals for herself at a fairly young age.

avid lemonade lover; fans often bring her lemonade beverages and lemon-themed accessories.

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

within the next six to twelve months, while continuing to solidify her position in the fashion industry, eunbi would like to focus on a solo career outside of heaven. she’s eager to prove her capabilities as a potential solo artist, to demonstrate to the general public that she has qualities which make her something more than a background member of heaven: an ambitious drive with a creative mind, alongside sharp singing and even sharper dancing skills that her group, as a whole, has never made effective use of.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

in the long run, eunbi seeks to revel in levels of fame only graced by some of the legendary seniors before her. she wishes to have a successful solo career, to be known both- domestically and internationally, to not be forgotten with the eventual fall of third generation girl groups. however, bearing in mind worst case scenario (failure to achieve such success as a soloist), eunbi also hopes to maintain a prominent position in the fashion world. well into the future, she’d like to manage her own multi-national luxury fashion conglomerate, and, again, have it do well domestically and overseas. showcasing and modeling her own designs would be especially ideal, as to not resort to faceless background work.

IDOL IMAGE

off camera, eunbi is sociable.

she’s curious, she’s fun, she’s adventurous.

a risk-taker, a person who yields to grand emotions. she’s messy, confusing, uneasy in her own right. much of a stark contrast from the role she plays as heaven’s evie.

evie, you see, is marketed to the public as phlegmatic in nature.

she’s the member with mysteriously alluring charms; the one who talks, but never too much. the one who smiles, but never too wide. the one who laughs, but never too loudly. her gaze is tempting and fierce, her movements sensual and brazen.

she is sunglasses and long brown hair flowing in the wind, the slender figure with sun-kissed skin. she is cool girl, the one who sits on the wing-back of a 1959 pink chevrolet convertible, carefree and untroubled, stoic and grand, the splendor of a juxtaposition.

there’s a glimmer of danger in her eyes, the soft curve of red-tinted lips.

she is powerful like a spell, utterly captivating, impossible not to consume.

and the idea elicits awe from some, but disdain from others. they complain she’s far too cold to fit heaven’s beach vibe, they say that her attitude could use some adjusting and they wish she would try to engage a little more, laugh a bit harder at puerile matters like everyone else.

management initially makes various attempts to appease them, to keep true to her depiction of an easygoing beach girl, while still making her relatable and convivial and fun, for the sake of being well-received. and when those attempts don’t work, staff almost has her drop the act altogether. but there’s that risk, the possibility people will think of her as fake, or a switch-up.

so then she just cries. a few crocodile tears, some sudden sign of vulnerability and weakness during the filming of a variety show to shut everyone up. and much to their surprise, it seems to work out, results in an outpour of sympathy and support from the general public.

they eat it up. they love the idea of this girl, impassive and still, melting in their hands at the edge of a weak moment. and just like that, it is decided that evie will be something like a jolly rancher crunch n’ chew— classic hard shell, surprisingly soft center.

IDOL HISTORY

( tw ; alcoholism )

december, 1993—

ryu eunbi begins her life at the soonchunhyang hospital in seoul.

immediately following the delivery, an obstetrician swathes the newborn in bundles of rosy-colored fabric, and rushes her into the neonatal intensive care unit, where she spends a total of three weeks relying on endotracheal tubes and intravenous feeding lines to survive.

the doctors explain, in a frank and professional manner, that eunbi’s health complications are the result of preterm labor. “premature birth can be caused by a number of things,” one says. “it can be caused by certain health conditions such as diabetes or hypertension, or it can be the result of other factors, like familial history of premature birth, substandard prenatal care, smoking and drinking, or even air pollution. because of this, it’s difficult to pinpoint an exact cause. nearly half of our cases are medical mysteries.”

and as if spoken into existence, maternal alcohol ingestion — the likely culprit — is never suspected.

eunbi simply becomes another statistic; her birth, another case for the books that collect dust on the hospital shelves.

another medical mystery.

✦✦✦

april, 1999—

a distressed eunbi is dragged into a choir room against her will.

her father thinks this is a good idea. if she’s anything like him, she’ll learn to do well. even better, maybe she’ll grow love music to the extent that he does.

and though it’s only a suggestion in passing, her mother takes him up on it. she says eunbi needs something productive to do, and a free after school activity is much better than paying a babysitter “money the family simply doesn’t have.”

still, the five year old cries and begs, screams in sheer terror as she clings to her mother.

she doesn’t want to be left alone, doesn’t want to stay with strangers, definitely doesn’t want to sing at their command. but her protests are met with condemnation and little success.

her mother, apathetic and ill with annoyance, asks her to not make such a scene, to behave and be a good girl. “don’t act out so much, you’re only five!” she says. “you’re not old enough to make your own decisions. now let me go, please, just stay here and sing. i promise i’ll pick you up as soon as i’m done at work.”

work.

work, work, work.

she learns young, how her parents love that word. how it’s the most important term in their vocabularies. how it does, and should, come before everything else.

✦✦✦

august, 2005—

CHOIR TRIP COMMITMENT AND PERMISSION FORM

“…in order for your child to participate in the choir trip, this document must be signed by the parent and returned to the administrative office by august 19th, 2005…”

eunbi knows there are certain procedures she must follow when it comes to consent forms, certain formulas she must apply if she’ll have them signed by either of her parents. as usual, the margin of opportunity is narrow.

if she asks her mother too early in the morning, she’ll be met with rejection. “can i please do that another time?” she’ll say. “i’ll be late for work, and you’ll be late for school.”

if she asks when the clock strikes four, the end of her mother’s eight hour work day, she’ll be met with rejection yet again. “not now, please, i just got home and i’m tired…” her mother will tell her, with a facial expression that implies the highest degree of vexation. “let me unwind a little,” she’ll add, settling into the couch and uncorking a fresh bottle of red wine.

if she asks when her mother has just woken up from a nap, her mother will be too dazed, too inebriated to give consent. “i don’t feel well, dear, why don’t you wait until your dad arrives so you can ask him, instead? i’m sure he’ll sign it.”

and if eunbi does that— if she manages to wait up late enough for her father to return home, he never does. he doesn’t expend the energy to call and say he won’t be coming, he doesn’t even send so much as a single text message. he simply doesn’t show.

so with little left to do, she resorts to signing the form herself.

because it’s not the first time.

and it certainly won’t be the last.

✦✦✦

february, 2008—

teachers refer to eunbi as a fiery-eyed, unruly troublemaker.

she is a student whose wayward tongue cannot be tamed, whose priorities lie entirely in the wrong places, whose friend group consists of an exuberant youth involved in a murky world of clandestine activities. she is imprudent, pugnacious, nothing but a lost cause and a disruption to the classroom and its students.

the school counselor believes her poor behavior is a result of her life at home. “children with divorced parents are usually at greater risk of experiencing poor outcomes,” he says during a private meeting with her mother. “separation is a challenging obstacle, as i’m sure you would know, and its not abnormal for a child to display behavior issues after their parents divorce.”

eunbi simply scoffs at these words; it’s like he says so much, yet knows so little.

"i don’t care about my parents divorcing,” she insists, bubble gum popping obnoxiously loud. why would it affect her, anyway? she isn’t oblivious. she always knew it’d happen, sooner or later. even a blind person could’ve predicted that outcome.

her father proved from the beginning that he was never a family man. he was never destined for parenthood or marriage. his devotion belonged to his music, to his failed career. it was all he cared about, and the month-long studio stays only confirmed it.

her mother was no better, really— an emotional wreck with the inability to handle her liquor. even after managing to sober up, to steer clear of wine and beer bottles, she made very little improvement. instead, she became much like her husband, neglecting her marriage, and her home, all in a desperate attempt to reach the peak of various nine to five jobs.

much in the way that bacteria flourishes in environments without free oxygen, ryu eunbi flourishes in environments without proper guidance and discipline.

at a young age, she decides that she’ll never be like her parents. she will never settle for the monotonies of a humdrum lifestyle, she will never work an unfulfilling or standstill job, she will never become enmeshed in the complexities of a loveless marriage.

life is too short, she thinks. it’s meant solely for spontaneity and excitement, for opportunities or luxuries not easily afforded to one.

her mother disapproves, she tells eunbi that her studies are important, that securing a steady job and healthy habits will ensure she lives a good life. but each word goes into one ear, and straight out of the other. eunbi’s crass behavior continues— the sticky fingers, the academic negligence, the underage tobacco and alcohol consumption.

and when it becomes too much, when her mother’s had enough, she’s met with ultimatums.

"since you can’t seem to use your free time responsibly, here’s what’s going to happen. you are going to dedicate yourself to an afterschool learning program, and an afterschool activity. or i’ll have no choice but to send you to a reform school abroad. the choice is yours.”

the stringent demand sends teenage eunbi into a fit of rage and demur. she angrily folds her arms across her chest, she stomps her feet against the floor, she complains that her mother is being ridiculous and unfair. what did she care, really? what right did she have to make any demands? what right did she have to pick and choose when to be a parent?

of course, there’s no way eunbi will allow herself to be exiled to a foreign country.

she chooses the former option. she decides she’ll dedicate herself to excruciating self-study sessions, she’ll rejoin that absurd local youth choir— anything to stay in her home country.

and as fate would have it, her decision turns out to be the optimal choice.

after months and months and months of unvaried routine, eunbi is blessed with opportunity. she trudges into choral rehearsals, tired and disinterested, only to discover a new flyer that’s been tacked onto the grungy bulletin board in the back of the room.

99 entertainment is holding auditions.

✦✦✦

august, 2009—

originally, eunbi would have never imagined this.

the mere thought of training to be an idol, being another body in a sea of hopefuls.

she’d never been like other children, never dreamt of singing on a stage to perform for large, boisterous crowds of people.

when she auditions for 99 entertainment (and passes), all she’s really after is a mere taste of the onerous trainee lifestyle, a way to pass the time with something other than a choir she no longer has any interest in.

and a taste is exactly what she gets. it comes in the form of grueling procedures, pressure to acquire new skills. the trainee pool is large. ridiculously large. there’s too many vocalists, too many people who can hold a note to the same extent that she can. if not, better.

she’s average, and she hates it. so she focuses, decides to set herself apart from the group of other aspirants by excelling in areas where they simply cannot. and, of course, it comes to prove itself as a struggle. she has a tough time learning basic foreign vocabulary, she isn’t so great with controlling the emotions that her face seems to communicate.

but dancing, it comes to her easy. she’s a natural, she learns, her body a mere instrument in its ability to project movement, so clearly and efficiently.

when the time rolls around, when rumors of an upcoming girl group begin to swirl around the company buildings, eunbi knows she has to prove herself and she knows just how she’ll do it.

it becomes something of a competition, a reason for her to perfect her technique. she works herself to exhaustion, day and night, dedicates all her time and energy to her art, to the idea of being one of 99′s best dancers. and it pays off later. the arduous routines, the immoderate perseverance. they make her a perfect candidate for debut, and suddenly she’s added to the lineup of 99′s new girlgroup: HEAVEN.

✦✦✦

august, 2014—

when heaven makes their official debut in 2010 and eunbi is ushered into the public eye, she becomes something like a doll— an object to ogle at, a toy to pick apart and examine.

even so, she’s far too young then to know better, doesn’t see it as something that constitutes as a problem. instead all she sees are the cameras, the flashing lights, the television screens that exhibit her pretty little face everywhere. and it’s all so damned beguiling in the beginning. what a rush it is to film a music video, what a rush to perform on a stage, what a rush to have a group of people dress and doll you up.

what a rush, truly, what a rush.

but it all wears off eventually. too fast, maybe.

because four years later, she finds that everything she loved before, she despises now.

✦✦✦

november, 2018—

it’s been eight years since the debut of HEAVEN.

eight years of taxing work schedules. eight years of precise image management. eight years of sinister prying eyes and outré speculation.

it’s been eight years of sheer exploitation. eight years of strict managerial constraint. eight years of wavering income and success.

her career path in itself has been an incontestable struggle, but like anything else in her life, eunbi learns to adapt. she learns to love what she hates, accept what she can’t change.

through the years, she’s mastered the art of manipulating the system to her own benefit, the art of maximizing her exposure. she’s learned that, in order to see success and enjoy the hell that happens to be the entertainment industry, one must own a calculative mindset. one must remember that there are always systematically correct choices to make, always the smartest decisions to propel you forward in the path you wish to follow.

in realizing this, she is able to relish in what good the industry has to offer— high-priced gifts, exclusive access to clandestine events, admiration from those whose friendship prove to be beneficial in the long run.

the goal now is to strive for longevity. to secure her position in the music industry.

to ensure her reign of success continues long after HEAVEN.

#id.bio #id.99 #id.heaven #id.park jiyeon #id.wild&free #id.alcoholism

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achaionrp-blog · 6 years

Photo

Presenting TAEHYUNG KIM! Making his Achaion DEBUT, he holds the mantle of ACHILLES, THE ARTIST. Some of the fans say he looks a lot like TAEHYUNG KIM. Welcome to Achaion: The Best of our Heroes. Let’s take a closer look at this hero’s performance.

Tactics: Taehyung is not the brawniest of men. Standing at 179cm and weighing about 63kg, he could stand to gain some muscle. Though physically not the strongest, the boy runs like the devil, relying on speed and quick thinking to carry him out of dangerous situations. He tries his hardest not to battle. Not because he is unable to, but because he knows that a temper lost means control is lost, and all of his fury will emerge with no restraint towards his opponent. He has little talent in fistfighting, whereas a natural talent for using swords and spears lies in him. He has an eye for predicting an opponent’s moves in battle after a while fighting them. When it comes to lighter challenges and overall publicity, the young man uses his charm to form alliances and gain popularity, preferring to have others do the dirty work for him. A princely attitude and confident stride captivates people. The idea is to not waste energy or make enemies.

Harmatia: Taehyung, as mentioned before, is rather shrimpy. He is not particularly tall nor particularly strong, relying on weapons, speed, and tact to make his way through the show alive. In addition, while his hot temper may drive him to winning in battle, it also causes a great adrenaline rush which physically debilitates him. He has too much energy and tension within him during periods of rage to move his body properly, losing even more strength—that he already lacks. The boy, thanks to his upbringing, is used to people doing his bidding; though he doesn’t look at this as manipulation. A lack of insight and consideration towards others in this regard causes him to appear snakeish, and spoiled when he doesn’t get his way. Taehyung is also easily lured into traps wherein vulnerable people or his loved ones are used as bait. If a child, animal, or his best friends are in trouble, he will go to them without thinking about the possible consequences. Above all, his achilles is perhaps his greatest downfall; this he injured as a child, leaving the area as a particularly sensitive spot that could take him down in battle easily. For this reason, he hides his disadvantage closely.

i. They say a child is a blessing, brought into this world to sprout fruition unto society by its own little hands. But what will those hands bring? Perhaps they will save lives, as natural-born healers. Perhaps their voice will be carried into the wind with the birds, the notes of a child’s song reaching high and touching hearts. Though, perhaps in this life, too, there are children who bring agony onto others; not by the will of the young, but as a byproduct of whatever evils fill their environment. An adult, towering over any little one, may let their offspring fly and reach for the stars—or cut off their wings before the child is aware that they have the means to take flight.

This predicament is not uncommon. Such is the case of Kim Taehyung, born from the womb of an avaricious woman who was once wed to a somewhat more benevolent man; though it would not seem as if the boy had a very difficult life to the unknowing eye. From the first cry sprung into the world, the child had his every need met. The best-trained, most expensive doctors and nurses catered to the infant, born in the most prestigious private hospital of Seoul. He would later be taken home to a living space people only dreamed of, desperately climbing up the socioeconomic later in hopes of at least making ends meet their whole lives while a little prince need not do anything but exist as the son of an influential family. An heir to the throne indeed; why must the boy ever lift a finger in his life when an entire staff of cooks, servants, and maids have been at his whim since birth? Though one supposes that this is how it must be, when the child’s mother and father alike are so preoccupied with maintaining their riches. Taehyung was no exemption from that category of action—the maintenance of wealth, sired entirely for this reason.

Yet a bit of pity is spared for the child on behalf of his father. Mother was rarely in the picture from the beginning. Tired of her husband after giving light, and having other matters to tend to, the woman packed her bags. Taehyung’s sole female figures in life from that moment on were the family’s home employees. Of course, he knew what his mother looked like, what she was involved in. It wasn’t like she didn’t pay him monthly visits. She was beautiful; her long, jet black hair, necklaces falling at her pale collarbones, accessories worn so casually that were worth more alone than the life investments of others. Back always perfectly rect against all sorts of laces and silks, she would tower over him for the first half of the his life. That very contrast in power never left Taehyung’s side even when he outgrew her, however.

“Be careful with your mother,” he would be told. “She has alliances and connections she should not be proud of—yet she always has been.”

Taehyung never really understood the depth of those warnings until he was older. There weren’t many more subtle ways of being told one’s mother came from a line of capofamiglia’s. The boy’s father knew that she visited Taehyung once a month solely because she wanted him to continue making profit for her through that long chain of mobsters without her doing the dirty work. His father’s intentions for him weren’t much different. Afterall, the aging man knew he could not work and run the family business forever. What better method of securing money and power than having a male heir?

Mr. Kim, naturally, knew that inheriting such a massive business and continuing to run it smoothly was a big feat for one child. Not to mention that he would constantly be in danger from envious competitors—as such, the man, in what he saw as an act of noble charity, decided to occupy his mansion with young business trainees. Boys that ranged anywhere from seven to twelve years old in order to match Taehyung’s age range piled in from one day to another, all competing in hopes of becoming the little heir’s designated business partner some day. As an only child, surrounded exclusively by older people hired to cater him, the sudden existence of so many boys his age was riveting. Maybe he could finally play with others! He could make friends! Dad said it was okay to talk to them!

“Eat with them, live with them, bond with them. If you don’t like a single one of those kids, just tell me. They’ll be taken care of.”

Taehyung was only nine, but he knew what his father meant. Afraid of what would become of the boys if he didn’t pay attention to them, the curious young one spent much of his time with his companions. On the first day, he introduced himself shyly. When he was met with loud greetings in unison, he was a bit startled. All of them seemed so excited to meet him, to be near him, even just to look at him. He figured they were just happy to meet someone new, the same way he was. Maybe their parents didn’t really let them play with most kids, either. What Taehyung saw before him was a lonely child’s paradise: clusters and bunches of boys by his side, ready to talk to him and have fun whenever he wanted them to.

In between tending to the trainees and doing whatever he wanted on his own, Taehyung spent a significant amount of time with his father a day. This checking-in of sorts once a day was his father’s method of ensuring that the little heir knew his way around business. Granted, the formula for success at that scale was largely just inheriting assets; but the boy needed to know the ins and outs of business regardless of product. Sure, the family lived off of selling their personal brand of cellphones and other electronics, but they knew that Taehyung could choose to launch new products of his own in a different market. His father, in addition, did seem to genuinely care about his son’s well-being—at least much more than the child’s mother ever did. Such is why the man decided to take him aside one night and tell him of the newest trainee set to arrive the next day.

“Tomorrow morning there’s going to be a new boy arriving, a little older than you. He’s eleven. Son of an old friend of mine.”

“Okay..”

The man sensed the confusion and hesitation in his child. He coughed, prompting Taehyung to sit down with a wave of his hand.

“I’m not telling you about this one just because he’s my friend’s kid. There’s something else…”

“…”

ii. Taehyung stares at Aiden when he arrives. It isn’t judgement, though he doesn’t tell Aiden that.

Over time, Taehyung had grown accustomed to the boys kissing the very ground his majesty walked on. The child’s paradise he had once dreamed of crumbled under him after he had spent much time observing the others. They didn’t seem to treat him like they treated each other. When Taehyung suspected that they treated him with favoritism, he wondered if it was true, and why. His father had never told him that the children were there almost solely with hopes of becoming his future vice-president of sorts. The boy just figured they wanted to do the same things his father wanted him to do—he never suspected that they had other, sneakier intentions in mind until he was around them for months. Growing tired of the act he felt the boys put on, he would find solace alone. He cherished the time he spent with his violin. The little one had been playing it since he was five.

Yet with a newfound suspicion, the little prince observed the cafeteria one day, waiting for everybody to pile in. What would they act like when they thought he wasn’t looking?

Chatter filled the room quickly, noisy kids rough-housing each other, laughing, merrily conversing without a care. More than anything, there looked to be a sort of fluidity among the boys; a natural atmosphere where nothing was forced. They tugged and rumbled at each other, teasing and poking and enjoying. Taehyung peered through the slim crack of the door. Already big eyes widened even further, his heart dropping to where he felt it stiff and heavy in his empty stomach.

Letting himself lean a little too forward, the door creaaaaked open, every pair of eyes in the room on him; except, this time, it didn’t feel like it normally did. It was as if a switch was turned on in the rest. Their backs straightened, hands either kept to themselves or on their food. Quickly, they fixed their expressions of surprise and grinned at the lone boy, still standing at the entrance.

“Taehyungie! Taetae! Come sit with us!–er, sit wherever you want, I’ll move seats!” The boys stood from their seats, indicating to him that he could sit wherever he pleased.

Only one didn’t move a muscle–or look at him much, for that matter.

Ah, the new kid, who did…

Wordlessly, Taehyung carried himself with confidence until his little legs reached their destination. Staring straight at the newest addition to the bunch–Aiden, was that his name?–he sat down as one of the servants brought his food.

“Hi. I’m Taehyung.”

iii. Aiden was the only one of the boys who had ever dared to treat Taehyung like any other human being and not as the second coming of Christ. Aiden did not look at him with money hungry eyes, a gaze instilled into the other children by greedy parents who had their children well prepared to stroke Taehyung’s ego. The indifference, the normality Aiden treated him with was what Taehyung had longed for, yet it still baffled and intrigued him that he was not being treated with utmost delicacy. If anything, Aiden looked pretty wary of him, though he looked pretty wary of the other boys, too. Still, the heir was determined to get the older boy talking. Curiosity killed the cat, but Taehyung didn’t care. He knew what Aiden had done, just not the details of it. Yet he wasn’t afraid. The thrill of figuring someone out and having them not want to kiss the ground he stood on tugged at him.

If there was one thing Taehyung had to thank the other boys for, it was acquiring proper social skills and becoming fully confident in himself. God knows where the charm came from; his father said it came from the very woman that delivered him, though Taehyung didn’t like to hear that. But it was thanks to this that the boy found the gall to talk Aiden’s ear off. When Aiden wouldn’t attend class, Taehyung would look for him, never taking a “go away!” for an answer. The two are awkward at first, but the young prince eventually got Aiden to come around until they talked day and night. They would attend classes together, play together, eat together. Taehyung found that Aiden was Korean-American, and it was his first time stepping foot in Seoul. In addition to the English classes the heir’s father enrolled him in, Taehyung learned to speak the language thanks to the other boy. Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. Aiden eventually opened up to Taehyung about everything; including what happened when he was seven, and why he was at the mansion when he had no interest in business. The boy accepted it—and so Taehyung’s first true friend came about in his life.

iv. Years passed and Taehyung chose Aiden as his right-hand man when the former was fourteen, the latter sixteen. The other business trainees packed their bags in disappointment and envy, though some remained with the hope of still making connections. All of those years spent pursuing empty money without striving for passion pay would prove to be a waste for most of the trainees.

It was a year after the two officially became business partners that Taehyung’s mother started to pay longer, more frequent visits to him. Funnily, it was when Achaion–this new popular survival show offering a gargantuan prize–first aired in 2011. The boy was fifteen and hardly thinking of money. His mother wasn’t too happy about him choosing Aiden as his partner when she heard about the decision, but the woman let it go. The gears in her head turned, stirring up something more sinister than a mother should ever think up.

v. Mother’s visits became more frequent, her reasons unknown to Taehyung. He had no idea that the woman, eyes cold and black as ever, had ruined the good relationship she had with the neighboring mobsters; owing them a ridiculous amount of money that she could never hope to come up with herself despite her lineage. Her only option was Taehyung joining the famed Achaion. She didn’t know what his chances were at winning, but she invested in classes for him that would train him for all sorts of fighting, pressuring him into joining the show more and more with every season that passed.

Taehyung attended his combat classes diligently, though not very willingly, amidst his high school, and then university, classes. He found that he was surprisingly good at old-style battle with a spear and sword by his side–but he didn’t want to join Achaion. He didn’t want to fight people, he didn’t want to die that way, he didn’t want to do all of that for more green paper. Why, for that very reason, when it came to university admissions, he had chosen to major in music! Not business, not marketing, not communications, not economics, engineering—he wanted to make music. He joined the school musicals, the orchestra, performing, singing, dancing, acting; if he could be anyone but himself even in those short moments, he would do anything for the stage. More than that, the musicality of all of it embraced him, wrapped him in warmth, a venusian escape from the distastefulness of reality. The violin was perhaps his first love–always by his side, even before Aiden became the one always next to him.

Because of that, because of his need to assert himself as Kim Taehyung, an artist, an individual, ridding himself of an identity pushed upon him, he didn’t apply to Achaion. Despite his mother’s insistence, he refused to.

Little did the young prince, at a beautiful age starting to embrace manhood, know that contestants could mysteriously compete on the show without having ever applied; so long as somebody pulls some strings behind the scenes.

vi. It was a Monday. Morning fog covered up what would have been a blinding light through his window, yet he stirred, knowing his academic day would begin in just two hours. Heavy eyelids struggled to fully open, but his father’s lifelong saying had been drilled into Taehyung’s head since infancy. Manners maketh man, Taehyungie.

Fine, it’s time to get up.

Propping his legs off of the bed, the cold of the floor touching his feet finally awoke him. He looked to his roommate’s bed, empty. No surprise. Aiden had early morning classes. The schedule of a nurse-to-be was rigorous. By the time Taehyung had awakened for his first class, the other male was usually back at the dorm with something for the both of them to eat before the musician took off.

Standing up with a stretch of the arms and a comfortable yawn, Taehyung set off to prepare himself for the day.

Instrument–check.

Car keys, phone, wallet–check.

A stylish outfit? Of-fucking-course–

All that was left was to wait for his friend. Playing around on his phone at the kitchen table, the young man’s device vibrated in his hand. A small icon at the top of the screen indicated that it was a new message. But from who?

[SMS] Birth Lady: Congratulations, honey! You’ve been accepted into Achaion’s season for 2018!

What?

Everything goes black before the boy could even process what was in front of him.

vii. He didn’t know what happened between that sudden moment and his arrival on set, but before he could ask what was going on, he awoke to his best friend and multiple staff looking at him with worry. No, in Aiden’s eyes lied more than worry–they looked like fear. And for the first time in his life, Taehyung felt it, too.

“Aiden. Where the hell am I–where are?– We?”

A cameraman gave a small laugh in the corner, holding the filming device more like a weapon than a tool.

“You’re on Achaion, kid.”

#achn!acceptance

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