#Ebony and Ivory chapter 15

[astrathechinchilla]

TVOS Chapters 11-15 art. Again, my friend YaBoiJinx on the J&D amino colors for me at times and I absolutely love him for it. Also, he made the Ashelin redesign, which I tweaked a bit. It’s since changed a bit in future art, so be prepared for that.

I’m currently writing chapter 20 and all art for 16-20 will be finished soon. I’ll also make a little art/bio for Ahmik on here like I did with Ebony and Ivory.

[spirit-of-the-void]

Ebony and Ivory (V x Reader Fanfic) Chapter 15

Author’s notes: Sorry this chapter was late! I’m a mess of a person with a messy life and zero excuses.

Chapter 15

The sky was forgiving that day, at least for a little while.

Within an hour or so of walking, the sun was up and shining. It was cooler for a day in June, but it was perfect for the walking you needed to do with the poet. Something about the light glinting off his hair made you feel weak in the knees, but your steps didn’t falter. Focused, you reminded yourself. Focus first, fun later when the job was done. You had no idea what this so-called Devil Sword looked like or where it could possibly be, but V seemed to know where he was going. Eyes ever forward, driven once again once you departed from the broken town. It was hard to describe where you were now, especially with the absolutely convoluted landscape. It felt like you were walking through a valley, but upon further inspection you could tell it was just the earth rising and following with the damage done. This was the base of the tree, where all the roots were.

And there were a lot of them. Roots extended above, weaving through the dirt and stone. Christ, this place was a mess. Barely any buildings, most structures torn apart by the demon tree and flung in various directions. Everything seemed lifeless, grey. Even more so once the clouds came back, casting a discolored feeling all over the dead plants and stony ground beneath your feet. Despite the pallor of the world around, you were keeping yourself in high spirits. Walking alongside the poet and keeping up conversation with him, making sure to keep an eye on his condition. You had eaten breakfast with him, summoning some minor food for everyone including meat for the familiars. All in all, you were prepared for anything and everything.  

Another day of travel and fighting, it would seem.

You didn’t mind, per se. But this area was full of baddies you weren’t particularly fond of. You passed graveyards, fighting the typical rough and tumble variety demons with the usual ease you had with V. You were getting your momentum back energy wise, testing your limits a bit more with each hour to see what could stick. No Void walking yet, but soon. You could feel that. Along this path you tried to keep your eyes out for shrines of any sort, since it was areas like these that would hide them. But you found none, and that made you sigh. This felt similar to when a parent was mad at you, that you were sure of. You couldn’t quite decide whether you saw the Deity as a father or not, or a mother for that matter. But you doubted it mattered.  

At some point V stopped at a cliff side, staring out at a different piece of land in the distance. He held out his arm, Griffon summoning on it before launching out over the crevice. Scouting ahead, it would seem. You could barely make out a building with a broken dome ceiling, what looked to be demons around it moving sporadically. Were they...dancing? Sure looked like it, in their own creepy, demonic way. You crouched down by the cliff, warily eyeing the abyss below with a frown. You hoped that once the tree righted itself the earth would settle accordingly and become full of life again. The Qliphoth seemed to kill anything within a certain radius, which made you fear for innocent creatures and animals caught in the crossfire. Would it kill them as well? You hadn’t seen a single squirrel or anything since arriving in this area, not even a stray cat. Mind you, human death was still just as awful and important. It just all seemed...wrong.

In the meantime, Griffon came soaring back. He looked a bit huffy and confused, shaking out his feathers with a concerned trill as he landed back on the poet’s arm.

“What’s good, bird?” You asked, standing up and stretching a bit.  

He let out a low squawk, eyeing you and the poet with concern and hesitation in his gaze.  

V let out a light hum, furthering prompting the demonic bird as he added to your question in that smooth purr, “Did you find it?”  

It. The Devil Sword Sparda, surely.

“Uhhh well,” Griffon said in a hesitant tone, flapping his wings a bit and sending a couple feathers dropping down, “I don’t know what I found, but...I think I saw demons dancing...?” The way he trailed off made the reply sound like a question despite him being the only one who saw the spectacle up close.

That made V smile, his expression bemused and slightly satisfied with this answer, “Well, then I guess we keep going,” He lifted his cane, catching the base of it firmly in his hand as he continued, "The Devil Sword Sparda is nearby.”

Could he sense the sword’s presence? You weren’t getting anything. Sensing demonic energy at its root wasn’t something you could do. Danger and hidden enemies? That you could definitely get a read on due to the Foresight. For whatever reason, when it came to the Devil Sword it got...nothing. Like there was interference, static. It made you wonder what kind of creature Sparda was, and what kind of power this sword had. According to V, Dante was able to wield it, but he sounded hesitant about himself. Griffon mentioned as you walked something about being “strong in mind and body”, which he was convinced V was not. Why was that? V seemed pretty strong willed to you at least, but there was always this sense of guilt and tiredness to him as well. He still moved forward, still seemed set on the task.

Regardless.

You walked alongside the poet, spinning one of Griffon’s blue feathers in your fingers as you did so.

“I can’t get a read on that sword at all,” You said to him, tone a little wistful, “Who was this person anyway? The one the sword is named for.”

V let out a low hum at your question, giving his cane a spin and eyes staring forward, “Sparda, the demon lord,” His tone was a smooth purr, but there was a far-away look in his eyes, “He was a powerful creature. Rumored to be closer to a God in terms of power than a demon.”

You let out a little huff, a bit of clarity reaching you, “Might be why I can’t sense it. Some God power and Deity powers don’t mesh with others.” You knew your Deity was notorious for not playing well with others. He wasn’t viewed as an official god in any capacity, a creature that existed on neither end of the spectrum. It unsettled a lot of higher ups, not to mention the Void was a place no one understood. They would not interact, that was for certain.  

V let out a low hum, side-eyeing you with a quirk of his lovely mouth, “Perhaps. Although, you are no demon. And I can just barely sense it.”

You nodded, giving him a light smile as you both continued forward. You were hoping to at least see the sword, though you still felt a little uneasy considering everyone’s warnings about it. You tried to shake that feeling, trudging into the new area and making sure to focus on your surroundings a bit more.

The landscape just became more and more warped as you went along, slabs of stone and rock dotting the path like it was nothing. You and the poet had to stop and fight something big and ugly along the way, watching it knock a stone bridge and coming to a sliding halt. It had looked like a monster wrapped in chains, and upon braking the chains two huge, tongue-like appendages had come out of its mouth. Well, that wasn't the strangest thing you had ever seen, right? It had been an annoying fight, one that had lasted longer than you liked. Too much jumping around, too much dodging. The thing was fast and you didn’t want to risk anyone getting slammed with its tongues. But your group managed, and V killed it with his usual flourish as he hoped off its back.

“Guys,” You sighed, rotating one shoulder and stretching the next instant, “I’ve decided this area is not fun.”

Griffon let out a loud snort, flying around and landing on your shoulders in his usual way, “This area? You said that about the last few.”

“Now you’re catching on,” You smirked, patting Griffon on the side of the beak, “Use that big brain, Griffon. Seeing a pattern yet?”

“Hardy har. Shucks, one would think you hate fighting demons!” Griffon rolled his strange eyes, tone heavy with sarcasm.

V chuckled lightly at your banter, tapping his silver cane on the ground as his jade gaze met yours. He looked a bit tired, but he told you along the way not to expend the energy to help him unless absolutely necessary. You wanted to respect that, but it made you nervous.

“I’d have to agree,” He hummed, a slight breeze making his hair wave around his face, “The demons in this area are less than satisfactory.”

You walked up to him, brushing some dust off his shoulders with a light sigh.

“We’re at the bottom of the tree, so it makes sense,” You shrugged, eyes tilting up to gaze at the ugly monstrosity filling the sky, “It’s going to be even worse in there, so we had better be prepared.”

V nodded once in agreement. One of his hands lifted to stroke your face, thumb sliding over your cheekbone. The action made you flush a bit.

“And what of you, Sparrow?” He murmured, looking at you from under his long lashes, “How are you feeling after such...vigorous activities?” Did he mean the sex at night, or the demons? The mystery alone was scandalous and sexy

That made you smile ruefully, taking his hand and giving it a light kiss. You thought you heard Griffon fake a gag, but you ignored him. He could tease all he wanted now, that cat was out of the bag. So why should you hesitate to do anything you wanted? Shadow didn’t seem to mind your actions, sitting at your feet with their bright red eyes looking between you and V. Sometimes you were glad that Shadow was a silent familiar, you couldn’t imagine taking the banter from both sides. Griffon was your friend and you loved him, but he was just enough for you to put up with. As for nightmare? You didn’t talk to the creature enough to form an opinion on him. Which was a shame, you liked seeing Nightmare fight in battle.

Shaking your wandering thoughts, you looked back at V.

“I’m doing better,” You replied, holding his slender fingers between your own, “Each time we fight my resistance grows. My power is like a muscle I have to stretch, so the more I stretch it the more I can take.”

That made him look curious, his eyes drifting over your form.

“Are you able to do more than we’ve seen?” He asked, “More of the incident with the black crystal.”

You winced at mention of that, but nodded, “In theory, if I trained enough I could do that without summoning my Deity, and without straining myself.”

It was the truth, because you remembered times where you could. Hell, one of your missions after learning the way your power worked, you became an absolute power house. The longer the mission, the better you got. The Deity definitely laid things out like that, making it so that you had a higher rate of success the longer it took. You didn’t know how you felt about that, but something about having that much power had always left a strange feeling of unease inside you. Like you were too connected with the Void. It left a disconnect in your body, like instead of a person you were a vessel for something...bigger. You never liked the feeling, and generally let that sensation die for a month or so to not get swallowed up. In retrospect...you wondered if that’s what the Deity went through to become so in tune with the Void?

Some mysteries couldn’t be answered by mere theorizing.

“I’m going to assume it comes with downsides,” V said with a low grunt, eyeing you with a wary gaze. Yeah, he still wasn’t over the incident from before, that was for sure, “And I expect you will inform me of them.”

You smiled brightly, but inside you were practically screaming. If only he knew that your power was one hundred percent downsides all the time. Oh yes, there was a turmoil inside you now, face luckily not betraying the raging knowledge that you were withholding things from him, which was bad after agreeing not to. If he knew that every time you flared the energy it was painful, borderline excruciating, he would never let you use it again. You were used to the pain, so you weren’t going to stop using it. It took god damn years to cultivate the energy of the Void, and the sacrifices for it were more than worth it in regards to keeping people safe. Pain was such a strange thing to you, something you just dealt with and normalized. Never talking about it, chin up and eyes forward. Minus when facing those punishments from deals made with the Deity, because that...was on another level.

Regardless.

“Don’t worry, building up power is safer for me than staying weak,” You replied to him, even knowing your previous doubts, “Less chances of exertion.”

He gave a light nod, leaning forward to press a light kiss to yours. Your heart immediately set off in a frenzy, cheeks flushed and warm. Being able to kiss each other when you wanted felt so nice, natural. Like you two were just a romantic couple on a stroll for the day. Unfortunately, you had an audience, one who was perched on you as a matter of fact. Griffon made another disgusted sound, hopping off your shoulders to put some distance between himself and the public display of affection. But you were sure he chuckled a little too, mischief in his tone as he swept around and eyed the two of you. Did he look pleased? You were almost positive there was satisfaction in his avian features.

V sighed at his reaction, pulling back with a rueful expression on his face. He stared at you for a moment, making you blink as you tried to get a read on his gaze. What...was that emotion? It flickered by so fast, but the poet was turning before you had a chance to ask him. You paused, mouth opening a bit as he started forward again, cane in hand. Driven once more. But you had seen something there in his gaze, something that made you uneasy. It...had looked like pain, something agonizing. Akin to realization, but not quite that either, closer to desperation. It made your heart pound, a worried sensation settling over you, one that you couldn’t push away. There couldn’t be something wrong, the Foresight would have warned you. It was calm, giving no indication of things heading down the wrong path. It was how it should be.

Right?

You swallowed the sensation and followed after him. Maybe you were just anxious, seeing things that weren’t there. After all, V grasped your hand as soon as you caught up. No hesitation, his hand so warm and skin smooth. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, but he wore that neutral, bemused smile again. He was so hard to read, his handsome face full of secrets that you didn’t understand. Things he would hopefully share as you went along. You tried to shake the feeling, the nagging part of your brain that had read something that wasn’t there. You were there with him, that was what mattered. He still replied when you spoke, discussing things along the way and filling you in on all that you had missed. The gaps in Nero’s story.

You were curious about Dante, the infamous demon hunter everyone was so fixated on. Griffon and V were debating on if he had survived or not—he was apparently a half-demon himself. Absolutely wild. If Urizen had killed him, no one was really sure what they should do, but V seemed convinced Nero was the answer. He brought up the boy several times, referring to him as exactly that. “The boy”, like he was somehow older and wiser. It confused you, especially since V seemed pretty young himself. It made you kind of feel bad for looking at Nero as a kid too, there was just something young and boyish about him. The part of you that liked taking care of people worried about the guy, especially since he grew up without parents or family. Everyone needed somebody, right?

“You really think Nero will be able to kill Urizen?” You asked, hoping into what looked to be a broken series of catacombs. It made you wince, mind flashing back to the sewers at the sight of the dank, dreary walls, “I don’t doubt him, but that’s a lot of danger to put one guy through.”

“Nero should be able to wield the Devil Sword,” V replied, jade eyes dark in the new area as he stared forward, “He was always my insurance policy, the one to rely on when Dante failed. I had hoped that I wouldn’t have to do so, but Urizen is...far worse than we imagined.”

His response made you sigh, nose scrunching up as you passed skulls built into the walls.

“I get that,” You hummed in reply, but you still didn’t know how to feel about it, “Just remember his safety comes first. Everyone’s safety comes first, including yours.”

“And yours.” Griffon and V quipped at the same time, exchanging a glance with each other. Wow. That had to be the first time you had seen them that in sync, which was hilarious in your opinion. Their concern was appreciated, and you had to admit to yourself that you would always put their safety before your own, no matter what. Not that you’d ever say that out loud. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, yeah? You chuckled, giving V’s hand a firm squeeze and entwining your fingers as you banished the misbehaving thought.

“I appreciate the support, boys,” You smiled, eyes bright and cheerful now as V’s gaze met yours, “I’ll make sure to focus on my safety.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, right? At least you hoped so.  

V let out a pleased sound, leaning down to press his lips to your silken hair. His breath was warm, brushing over you as he kissed the top of your head. Christ, you felt like you could faint when he did things like that, on the brink of swooning. Somehow this made you flush more than the lewd things, your cheeks warm and heart fluttering like a caged bird. A sparrow, if you wanted to get super specific. You sighed in contentment, bringing his fingers to your lips as you kissed them again. How you wished the two of you could find somewhere safe and warm to just...rest. No worries, no demons to fight. A day where you could wake up in a bed, and lie there till noon. Domestic things, ones you used to take for granted.

Griffon gagged again at your actions, swooping by and saying loudly, “Get a room, lovebirds. You’re killing me with this kissy, touchy shit. I fear for my virgin eyes.”

“Virgin eyes?” You and V chorused together in disbelieving tones, you turning to raise a brow at the loud-mouthed bird.

Griffon landed on a nearby piece of rubble, huffing lightly as he narrowed his golden eyes on you.

“You’re missing the point here,” He said in a haughty tone, raising his demonic beak in the air as he continued, “You and Shakespeare can’t keep your hands off each other. What will the humans think?”

Humans—he had to be referring to Nero, Nico, and Lady.

You crossed your arms, hearing V let out a low, deep sigh as he gave you a long-suffering look. You shared the sentiment, but in a way the bird had a point. You and V weren’t on your best behavior, that was for sure. Emotions were high and heady, unable to be ignored. The idea of Nico and the others seeing V kissing you and holding your hand...well, you had no idea what they would think, or what they would say. Maybe that the apocalypse was neither the time nor place for romance? They would be right if that was the case, but Nero was a guy in love. You hoped he would at least partially understand, and you had fuzzy memories of Nico saying V needed to get laid. And Lady threatening to kill him if he hurt you. To be honest, those details were a bit sketchy considering the alcohol.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we reach it,” V replied before you could, passing by the bird with a light tilt of his mouth, “Do you intend to sit there all day? We do have a sword to find.”

Griffon rolled his eyes, flapping his wings and soaring ahead as he grumbled, “Calm your tits, Shakespeare. I’m not the one stopping to smooch every five minutes.”

You smiled brightly, walking alongside V and Shadow as you called to him, “I can kiss and walk.”

“Can you suck cock and walk too?” Griffon’s voice echoed back, tone heavily sarcastic, “Then I’d be really impressed.”

“Is that a challenge?” You clasped your hands behind your back, smiling mischievously when V cleared his throat. He was looking a little hot around the collar at the topic. He was so easy to make flustered, which was incredibly adorable. It was too dark to tell, but you were sure there was color in those cheeks of his. Teasing him was so fun, though you were certain you wouldn’t be sucking his dick in these catacombs—you refused to do anything sexual in such a disgusting place. There were dead bodies and skulls everywhere, so it wasn’t really your ideal place for romance. In fact, you couldn’t wait to leave.

“Live in mystery,” V said simply, a bit of a warning in his tone as his jade eyes glanced at you. Though you could tell he was fighting amusement. Those full lips of his were having a hard time holding that displeased look even as he added, “We have ground to cover.”

You blew him a kiss, skipping forward and pinching his butt as you passed by. It made him jolt a bit, a surprised grunt escaping him and face flushing a lot more noticeably now.

“Yes sir.” You purred at him, turning back to give him a sweet smile. Something about calling him “sir" felt very scandalous, and he wasn’t oblivious to that. His eyes narrowed at you, a bit of hunger in his gaze as he eyed you in the dark. Was he gripping that cane tighter? Looked like it.

Still, you all pressed forward. The journey through the catacombs? Less than stellar, that was for sure. It was crawling with demons, as was all things around the Qliphoth tree. This area brought forth a new demon type, one that quite frankly set your teeth on edge. Spectral creatures with giant scissors, lunging with attacks that could easily cut you in half, which wasn’t ideal in the slightest. How did these demons come up with their attacks and weapons of choice? Despite the danger, attacking like they did was highly impractical. You managed to wrap your tendrils around the scissors when they lunged, snapping them closed and leaving them defenseless. It was up to V and the others to pummel them into submission and eventual death. Even so, traveling through took much longer than expected when you had to stop and fight every few minutes.

“Hey V?” You asked in between the fighting, letting out a low huff as the Void energy settled inside, “Can I ask you a few things?”

He was in the process of putting his book away as you spoke, a hint of surprise in those jade eyes as he met your gaze.

“...Certainly, Sparrow.” He murmured after some pause, gripping the head of his cane and leaning his weight on it. He seemed a bit tired, but he hadn’t said anything to you yet.

Frustrating, but you kept walking with him.

V seemed to want to keep up the momentum, but he seemed oddly...torn. Contradictory. Driven one second then stopping the next to hold your hand, resting on a piece of rubble and talking in that low voice of his. You talked about his home town that you were, technically, still walking through. He seemed a lot less reluctant to open up today, which made you feel warmer already. You were devastated to find out how young he was when his mother died—just eight years old. Too young to go through something that traumatic. He wouldn’t tell you all that had happened, you could tell he was omitting things. That was fine, he wasn’t required to tell you all he had been through. That was his choice to make. Through it all you listened and watched his face, still holding his hand and squeezing it when he paused, unable to find his words.

“What happened...when your mother died? Where did you go?” You asked him softly, pulling your legs up and crossing them. Griffon landed on your shoulders as you did so, Shadow putting their head between your legs and V’s. The bird was listening quietly, but he didn’t seem surprised, like he knew of this story and all it entailed. How long had V been with the three familiars? It would have made you feel better if you knew V had the trio looking out for him as a child, it was at least something. Still, growing up without parents was just...unfair. Where was V’s father, and who was he? That was the one detail V left out, he seemed pretty focused on his mother over all. You could tell that he felt guilty about her death, it was plain on his face. But his father...where was he?

“I...” V let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair, “I did what I had to survive. I learned. I trained.”

He kept it very vague. You could understand why.

You nodded along with his words, watching Shadow’s tail sway back and forth, “Desperate times call for desperate measures I suppose,” A sad smile graced your lips, eyes darting up to meet his, “What was your mother’s name?”

V let out a low hum, gripping the head of his cane with his free hand and tracing lines on your palm with the other, “...Eva. Her name was Eva,” He closed his eyes in thought, a soft huff leaving him as he added, “She would have loved you. That, I’m sure of. “

That made your heart pound, like you were held in high regard.

“What was she like?” You asked, trying to hide how good his compliment felt. You wanted to know who this woman was, a person who gave birth to someone so important to you.

“Kind...thoughtful. A good mother.” He said simply, though you could see his face was hiding something. It made you blink, eyes going soft as you tried to decipher his emotions a bit. No luck this time, there was no cracking that poker face. He seemed attached to his mother, you could tell that much, so why did that sentence sound so...hesitant? Like he was unsure, or lonely sounding?

“She sounds like a good person,” You murmured, rubbing the toe of your boot into the ground when you stretched out your legs, “Though I have to ask, where is your father? Or did he pass away too?”

V’s mouth tilted in a small smirk, a faraway look in his eyes as he scoffed, “Something like that.”

You opened your mouth to question what he meant when the catacombs shook a bit, some rubble settling nearby. It made V grunt, pulling himself to his feet and gripping his cane. You immediately did the same, shaking off some dust and staring at him with concern. The way his tone sounded when he said that little quip was strange, and you couldn’t understand what he meant. Something like that. Maybe his father was absent, or maybe he didn’t know the guy at all? Both were pretty awful things to deal with, but there was something else there was well in his gaze. A... wistfulness. Regret. Reverence. It didn’t look like he was entirely without knowledge, like there was a joke in that comment you were missing. There was history here, something that you weren’t a part of.  

But V didn’t seem in the mood to elaborate anymore. He gestured with his cane to you, starting forward again and leisurely brushing a bit of dust of his shoulder. You stifled a sigh, hurriedly following after and just tucking the question away for later. Quick as he opened up, closed just as quick. You told yourself that there was no need to push things, especially when opening up seemed hard for him to do already. Taking things easy, letting it come slow. The connection between you two was still a tender thing, but it still felt strong and steady. You doubted V let just anyone in or close, so that alone made you grateful to get those small bits of info. So, you bit your tongue, letting out a low huff and watching his back shift and move as he walked. There was always more time to talk, right? You weren’t going anywhere even when the god damn tree was gone. There were so many things to learn, so much to discover about each other.

Griffon seemed to sense your exasperation, letting out a light trill in your ear as he shook off some of your hair.

“Don’t mind Shakespeare, he’s a closed book,” He hissed lightly, just loud enough for you to hear, “Mommy dearest is a touchy subject. Shocked he even said anything.”

You sighed a bit, wrapping your fingers around his talons and squeezing a bit.

“Don’t worry, I’m patient,” You told him quietly, eyeing the poet with some fondness, “Besides, we’ve got plenty of time to figure things out.”

Griffon went quiet at that, which was pretty uncharacteristic of him. You blinked, that little anxious voice in the back of your head screaming to life in an instant. Something wasn’t right. But that didn’t make any sense, at least you hoped? Your Foresight was calm, swirling inside and not hinting at anything bad. But...something wasn’t adding up in your head. You stared at the bird from the Corner of your eye, but he still said nothing. There was something in his gaze—a meaningful stare, a nervous one. Like he wanted to tell you something, but couldn’t. And that only added to the foreboding feeling. There was no way the Deity wouldn’t inform you if something was wrong, that you were sure of. So, you tried to chalk it up to anxiety, maybe miscommunication? But you would be observant as always, on your toes and ready for anything.

There was still so much to do, and so much to focus on. Your group made it out of the catacombs within the hour, the earth still just as broken and desolate as you remembered it. Yikes, that tree looked even uglier the closer you got to it. Broken, shattered buildings were everywhere, the Qliphoth roots woven through out. Your Foresight was already warning you of demons in this area, and you could see some in the distance even as it swirled inside. That dome building was coming ever closer, giant, menacing thorn brambles plowing through it and meeting at a bundle of red, bulbous buds. Another thing to be destroyed. These demons were new too, gangling creatures with misshapen bodies and bulbous eyes attached to limbs. You winced at the sight of them, your Foresight curling into a burning ball in your chest and spider-webbing out in heavy pain. Yikes, those didn’t look fun.

V put his cane out to stop everyone, eyeing the creatures with a slightly bemused look as they continued their little dance. You saw his jade gaze traveling upwards, and followed with it. There, sticking out of the building.

Your eyes widened at what had to be the Devil Sword Sparda. A massive blade, woven with what looked to be demonic flesh with a long hilt. It was curved, glinting menacingly even in the grey light of the clouds. There was no mistaking that. It had “Devil Sword” written all over it, and it explained why the demons were acting sporadically. Dancing under the blade, like they were worshiping it. V’s words of Sparda being closer to a god seemed a lot more solid now, since these creatures certainly seemed to think so. You tried to get a feel for the energy of the blade, eyeing it with curiosity and wariness. The Void power swirled a bit when you did, definitely not liking your actions.  

You couldn’t help but wonder if your Deity ever met Sparda? The man definitely liked meeting other higher beings, seeing how they reacted to him. But you doubted you could ever ask for that kind of information.

“Is that the sword?” You asked V for confirmation, crouching down behind a piece of debris while he leaned against the wall, “It definitely looks like a devil sword.”

“Sure fucking is,” Griffon hissed before V could open his mouth, eyes alight with interest as he eyed the hefty blade, “I’ll be damned. Flung all the way down the Qliphoth to here, landing nice and neat.”

V let out a low hum of agreement, gripping his cane tighter as he pushed off from the wall. You immediately blinked at his confident gait forward, ignoring all the danger with those eyes set on the prize. God damn it, not again. When he went into focused mode, there was no stopping him. You just hoped this time things wouldn’t turn out like the horseman incident; your heart definitely couldn’t take it. So, you stood as well, rushing to catch up with him and summoning the power of the Void. It burned in your lungs, releasing a cold cloud of icy breath into the air as your tendrils snuck into the ground around the creatures. You at least wanted to be somewhat tactical, if no one else was.  

“You’re lucky you’re a pretty boy,” You muttered under your breath to V as he hopped up some rubble, eyeing the creatures with a bemused stare, “Because this reckless shit you do would usually earn you a spanking.”

That made his mouth quirk into a grin, the poet in good spirits now as he tilted that tantalizing gaze onto you, “Now now, Sparrow. Don’t make promises you won’t keep.”  

That made you pop a brow up, steps faltering a bit as you stared at him, “Did you just admit a kink to me?”

“Guess you’ll have to find out,” He chuckled mischievously, “Let’s take that as motivation to not die, shall we?”

You were simply flabbergasted, blinking at him with a mixture of surprise and intrigue on your face. What could you even say to that?

Griffon flew by you, letting out an annoyed groan. You forgot he was there for a moment, but he most certainly heard that whole exchange. He threw you a disgusted look your way, rolling his eyes back into skull as he whooshed by you.

“Can you two can the flirting for five minutes so we can get the god damn sword?” He hissed, approaching the demons with Shadow prowling behind him.

You hated to say it. But Griffon was, once again, correct.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136193/chapters/43584827

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Tagged: @silentwhispofhope @nightshadow4713 @slightlylunatic @just-call-me-no-name @efiicitia @raven-huntress

[missnmikaelson-main]

The Forgotten - Chapter 16

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15

Well… it’s been a crazy few weeks y'all, but I finally got the newest chapter done. YAY! :D

I also discovered this new app that I love because I like to handwrite my chapters first (there’s just something about the feel of pen and paper that gets the creativity flowing {at least for me}) and the app lets me take a picture of the page and it converts the pen to typing. It saved me four hours in the typing and editing of this chapter.

1919

“You’re absolutely sure you don’t mind?” She fidgeted with her hat and shifted on her toes, setting the simple white skirt to swaying around her legs. Cool air swirled around her exposed ankles.

“Do I mind watching our little heathen?” She ruffled the boy’s neat hair. “He is an absolute nightmare, and I am certain we shall have a horrid time.”

“I’m not a heathen,” he stomped his foot, indignation made adorable by his lisp.

“I was only joking, my darling,” she patted his cheek and bit back her laugh.

Confusion flooded his eyes.

“It’s like when I tell you to cause endless mischief for your auntie, but I really mean…” she knelt at his eye level, smoothing his sandy hair back in place.

“Be good?” Large blue eyes blinked at her.

“Precisely,” she nodded. Some days she struggled to believe he was already six years old. She had never believed her mother, but it was true that time flew by; in the blink of an eye he had grown from a baby to a boy.

“So when I say you’re a heathen, I really mean you’re a little angel.”

He giggled when she tweaked his nose. His eyes snapped back to his mother.

“I will be back after you have gone to sleep; I expect this new warlock to be a long time in his presentation.”

“What does he want?”

“I don’t know, baby, but I am going to find out,” she smiled, “and in the mean time I want you to behave while I am gone.”

“Does that mean misbehave?” He grinned.

“Tonight I mean exactly as I say,” she laughed. “Now hold still, mister, so I can kiss you goodnight,” her eyes sparkled. Leaning forward she planted a soft kiss on his cheek and smiled as he turned his head to return the action. “I love you.”

“I love you too, mom.”

She gave him one last kiss on the tip of is nose and rose to her feet.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she pulled on her jacket.

“Do not rush. It’s important to remain a breast of witch affairs, and who knows, perhaps this newcomer will prove the distraction you’ve been waiting for and off you the opportunity to truly search the compound.”

“It’s the only reason I am attending,” she took a deep breath. It did nothing for the nerves vibrating in her belly. She paused with her hand on the door.

“Elena?”

She turned back to watch the blonde.

“Don’t forget your glamour.”

“Right,” she nodded, catching her reflection in the mirror. Ancient Latin slipped from her lips and before her eyes she watched as her appearance altered.

“You look the same to me,” he crossed his arms.

“That’s because you have this,” she bent and tapped a golden bracelet on his wrist. She smiled at the band that allowed her son to see her while New Orleans saw Isobel.

++++

Her shoes clicked over the cobblestones in a slightly uneven rhythm that leveled out the further she went until she stepped in time with the drum’s primal beat. Nearly a hundred people had made the journey to the cemetery and she could see them all crowded around a roaring bonfire.

She found a place in the throng and watched a lone witch dance around the flames to the beat of the Congo drums. She twisted, spun and reveled in the shadows flickering over her face.

Elena observed the assembly and was one of the first to notice the man; tall and dressed in a smart suit of ivory, he cut an impressive, impassive figure. His ebony skin glistened in the orange light, but she took little notice of his distinguished features; the albino python around his shoulders captured her gaze.

He clapped, commanding the attention of the crowd; they fell silent and only the crackle of wood filled the cemetery. He handed the snake to two young men that melted from the shadows.

She squinted at the symbol on the brows of the identical twins; the cross surmounted by two oblique lines was like nothing she had ever seen. Of course, she had only been actively practicing magic for five years and her son didn’t leave much time for research.

Her eyes snapped to the man whose voice rang out over the crowd. He possessed an enigmatic voice, and spoke with his hands; he left her with an impression of untold power, and the unknown sent a chill through her.

“Witches of the French Quarter thank you for your welcome; it is good to be among people of the faith,” he smiled a disarming smile. “I, too, practice ancestral magic, honoring those who walked the path before us; from them, we draw strength, and you will need strength, for a great darkness is coming. The city your forefathers left you is now overrun by pirates, beasts and vampires.”

Her heart pounded; at any given moment she straddled a fence – the line between witches and vampire – and she never knew which side she leaned as she failed to fit wholly in either group. She shifted, glancing at her fellow witches, but nobody bothered with her; nobody knew. A gasp broke from her lips when the man took the python and threw it on the fire.

“I practice other magic as well. Sacrificial magic: channeling power from the lives of my offerings. I use this strength to vanquish my enemies, and I will punish your enemies for their greed.” He held out his hands. “In return, you will accept my family into your coven and me as your leader.”

++++

She paused at the bottom of the stairs, smoothing down her sweater sleeves. “Everything okay? What’s the situation with this new warlock?”

Elena worried her bottom lip as she hung up her jacket; her fingers hooked beneath the chain of her locket. “He wants… power… control over the coven, and he promises to smite all enemies of the faith in return.”

“One warlock against the Original family?” Skepticism laced her tone.

“He practices sacrificial magic and draws powers from the offerings.”

“Should we be worried?”

“There aren’t enough animals in the world to grant him that kind of power,” she shook her head. “He’ll prove a distraction, but I don’t think he’s much of a threat. The guy just gives me the creeps.”

2011

A hand on her shoulder roused her from an uneasy slumber. She jerked, sending dozens of pages fluttering to the floor. Kol stirred beside her and managed to catch a few crinkling papers before rubbing a sore spot in his neck.

“What’s going on?” He rolled his neck, blinking to wake up.

“I could have used another hour or two of sleep,” she yawned, rubbing her eyes. AA hard crust dislodged from her tear ducts. Her eyes glanced at the large armchairs where Klaus and Elijah flipped through ancient grimoires.

“I’m sure you desperately need rest,” Rebekah in knelt, cleaning the spells, “but your phone has been buzzing incessantly for the past ten minutes… and there it goes again.”

She dug the phone free and read the missed message from Jeremy. Three missed calls followed the text. Evidently she was needed at home.

“Everything alright, darling?” Kol stifled a yawn.

“Something at home,” she shrugged. “I’ll run and see what’s going on, and be back as soon as I can. Stay away from sharp objects.”

“You realize I am over a thousand years old and I have managed to take reasonable care of myself in that time?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh please,” Rebekah scoffed. “Had you been capable of death you would have achieved it a hundred times over. ”

“It’s a wildly different standard when you’re human,” Elena squeezed his hand and laughed softly, “so stay away from sharp objects, or perhaps I should be saying that to Klaus.”

“You’re not funny, Elena.” Klaus glowered over the pages of his book.

“I wasn’t trying to be,” she stood up. “I’ll be back soon, and hopefully by then there will be a spell to unlink us. I’d love to slap you both, but I don’t want the bruise.”

She shouldered her bag, fixing Klaus and Elijah in place with her eyes. “Stay out of trouble.”

“You’re the one leaving the safety of the mansion,” Elijah flipped the pages.

“I wouldn’t call the prison you’re keeping your mother in safe,” she rolled her eyes. “She’s powerful enough that she could break through the shackles.”

“Why don’t you do what you did to your friend’s mother: Stop her magic by turning her?” Klaus rolled his eyes.

“You’re more than welcome to,” she moved backwards to the door, “but I can’t. If I turn her we’ve got a Tyler situation on our hands.”

Kol watched her go and stood, looking around the room.

“Where’s Finn gotten off to?”

“He said something about looking into mother’s spell.”

On the other side of town, in the shadow of the old witch house, Finn knelt in the cold grass, traced the faded salt runes with his fingertips and swore under his breath.

++++

She plopped down on the couch and watched her friend sip the hot cocoa she had brewed; rich chocolate filled the living room, drifting up to the second floor where Abby slept.

Bonnie’s red rimmed eyes drifted shut for a moment and she took the opportunity to study her drawn features. The weight of the world pressed her shoulders into a slump. She had been through the ringer, and as much as Caroline hated to do it she knew she had to push Bonnie a little further.

It would hurt but there were some things that could not be left to fester.

“How long are you going to freeze Elena, out?”

Those slumped shoulders stiffened, and her eyes snapped up flooding with determination as she set her jaw. “She killed my mom, Caroline.”

“Rebekah killed your mom,” she crossed her legs.

“It was Elena’s plan,” Bonnie gritted her teeth; Stefan had told her that much.

“What else was she supposed to do?”

“She could have talked to me and come up with another way,” her blood simmered.

“She couldn’t have told you anything,” Caroline scoffed. “That bracelet you stole was able to control her. She couldn’t tell you anything.” She leapt to her feet and began motioning with wild hands, “she couldn’t tell you she was linked or that Esther wanted to kill every vampire on the planet and throw the balance of nature into chaos. Her options were anarchy or one new vampire. Yeah, your mom lost her connection to magic and Originals were behind it, but you’re not blameless in this.”

Angry tears sprang up in her wide eyes.

“You took her agency when you handed over that bracelet, and she planned the transition of your mother,” Caroline deflated a bit. “Gah! I know you two love each other, but you make it hard sometimes.”

“How do you know all of this?” Bonnie crossed her arms.

“She told me last night.”

“And you just believed her?” Her brows shot up.

“Yeah, why don’t you?”

“She’s been gone a hundred years,” she shook her head. “I don’t know that I know her anymore.”

Caroline sank down, perching on the coffee table. The sudden weight of her limbs held her in place. In that moment she wished to be anywhere else, so she could sink into herself and sleep, or at the very least shut her mind off for a short time and not have to dwell on the knowledge that she could have died last night, with her luck she was not a part of Kol or Rebekah’s bloodline.

“She’s still Elena, Bon,” she exhaled, closing her eyes. “Her methods have gotten a little more drastic, and her circle has grown a little bigger, but it’s still her, and she’ as terrible a liar as ever, so I know she’s telling the truth.”

Bonnie lowered her eyes to the hot cocoa.

++++

The car rolled to a slow stop along the curb, forcing Elena to slow her speed at the corner. Power coiled in her tense muscles, unfurling with the measured steps that marked her path home; if she were honest the only thing that made the house home anymore was Jeremy and Alaric. She suppressed the humming energy in her veins, but it still flowed out of her to shimmer in the air.

Above her head a finch broke out in trilling song, unhampered by the steady crunch of frozen leaves and the abomination below his lofty perch.

She moved on, rushing up the driveway passed the second car. She paused for a breath and read the sticker proclaiming the vehicle as a rental. She hurried into the house where a familiar scent greeted her.

“Thierry”, a broad smile stretched her face in the kitchen, “what are you doing here?”

“Checking on you,” he stood from the table, half-drunk coffee forgotten in his haste. He wrapped his arms around her back and listened to his heart slow. “What was up with that call last night?” “Can��t a mother call just to say how much she loves her son?” She stretched up on her toes and kisses his cheek. Her eyes shifted over his shoulder. “Jer, Ric this is…”“

"We already did the introductions,” Jeremy leaned back in his chair. “Personally, I think I’m a little young to have a ninety-seven year old nephew.”

“You need to consider the extenuating circumstances,” Alaric reached for his coffee.

“Whatever you say grandpa,” he muttered, smirking. Alaric sputtered and thumped his chest, coughing up the drops of hot coffee.

“Mom,” Thierry drew her attention back, “what happened? You sounded tense last night.”

“You caught that, huh?” Elena lowered her eyes, chewing her lips.

“What was going on last night?” Alaric tilted his head. “Aside from the Original witch wanting to kill her children?”

“Had she succeeded she would have killed me as well as every vampire sired by the deceased Originals, no matter how many times removed.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and dropped into an empty chair.

“She was going to kill you?” Jeremy tensed. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I couldn’t,” she pulled the bracelet from her pocket. I couldn’t tell anyone.“

"That’s what you were looking for yesterday,” Thierry reclaimed his seat. “I found the notes in your inventory book.”

“Luckily she failed,” Elena nodded, “and now I have a month to try and reverse what she did and come up with a way to keep her from trying again. But I’m fine, and I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”

“It’s okay” he sighed. “So nothing happened last night?”

“Well,” Elena tilted her head, “I wouldn’t say nothing.”

++++

They were arguing again. It was the way of their family when paranoia set in - at least for Klaus. He probably could have spoken his brother’s lines perfectly, would have if not for the persistent throbbing behind his brow and gnawing hunger in his body, but even the thought of food brought a swell of nausea.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?” Klaus’ shout threatened to break his ear drums.

He echoed Finn’s response, but his strained voice went unnoticed by his siblings. He rubbed his temples, drawing in a burning breath of air that set his lungs on fire; he pressed his lips together to hold in the hacking cough.

“I found the remnants of mother’s spell,” Finn dropped the contents of his hand on the low table.

Burnt herbs scattered over the page, but when he tried to read the hastily copied runes the ink blurred and he was swept away with a sudden spinning sensation.

“Kol?”

The soft call came from far away the second was sharper, closer and spoken in his ear. Something white - hair, maybe - flashed in his vision; blue peered into his eyes.

He blinked, but the room failed to sharpen, opened his mouth, but the words refused to come. Through the scratching, burning pain in his chest he heard a horridly we rattle and he knew with sickening certainty that the sound came from him.

At some point a handkerchief had been forced into his hands, and as the violent hacking reached it’s end he opened his eyes, regaining just enough focus to comprehend the pale pink spray over an ornately embroidered ‘E’.

“That’s not good,” he muttered. The metallic taste of copper lingered on his tongue. He wiped the cloth over his mouth. It came back red.

He raised his eyes to his silent siblings.

“As I was saying,” Finn cleared his throat. “Mother created her spell and left nothing to chance.”

“What exactly does that mean?” Elijah lifted the ancient symbols.

“Mother made him human,” Rebekah shook her head. Her voice was strangely tight.

“It means she wanted us dead, and she insured it would happen. It means…”

“I’m dying,” Kol’s quiet voice held their attention; he could feel the truth of it in his bones. His eyes cut to his sister; a hint of a smirk crossed his lips.

“Still jealous, Bex?”

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Klaus scoffed, “you’re not dying!”

“Aren’t I?” He arched an eyebrow, ignoring the irony of being called dramatic by Klaus of all people. His gaze cut to Finn for confirmation while his mind wandered to the only witch who would be willing to help him. He had no idea what she could actually do beyond hold his hand though, not that he would have raised an objection.

“How long do I have?” He ran through the possible options and the ingredients and time required for each, anything viable would need the aid of the full moon which had just passed them by.

“Moonrise.”

Kol’s heart stuttered. Swallowing he looked up. “Please tell me my hearing is going and that I missed the word 'full’ before moonrise.”

He was met with a tense silence and a family that would not look at him.

“Bloody hell.”

He stood abruptly and swayed; black spots danced across the sitting room, blotting out the look of concern on Elijah’s face. A chill swept over him, racing down the length of his spine. For one brief moment he wanted to sag into the supportive embrace of his sister; he longed for his mother, not the bitch who had condemned him to what was sure to be a grisly death, but for the loving - albeit hard - mother of his childhood. But it had never been in his nature to appear weak or seek help, not since the day he had received his arm ring.

So, he blinked the spots away, gritted his teeth, shook off Rebekah’s hand and pulled his arm from Finn’s grip.

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

“You’ve got twelve hours to live,” Rebekah planted her fists on her hips. She yelled after him as he left the room: “that is the opposite of fine!”

“Less then…” Kol’s sharp response cut off, replaced by shattering glass. His siblings exchanged a look, a split second, before racing into the hall where he was holding the railing and staring down at a broken vase. “It was on the edge before I reached the table.”

“Where are you going?” Rebekah rolled her eyes.

“To get the rest of mother’s grimoires,” he gestured up the stairs. “I have no intention of dying tonight.”

“Excuse me?” Elena’s voice drew everyone’s attention to where she stood at the door. “You’re dying? How are you… what…?” she gestured to the door and her car beyond. “I was gone two hours.”

Elijah handed her the paper Finn had brought back, watching as she read through it. Her expletive was covered by Kol’s coughing fit.

The page crumpled in her hands as she pushed through the assembly of vampires and pulled the crushed handkerchief from his hands; her eyes widened on sighting the blood her nose had already smelled. Her ears perked up, catching the race of his heart, and under her breath she murmured a spell that slowed the rapid beating.

Kol lowered his eyes; the handkerchief seemed to spin in his hands, or perhaps the hall was spinning around him. The floor shifted beneath his feet. His knees buckled and he fell.

Elena caught him under the arms, lowering him to the stairs. She pressed the back of her hand to his pale brow and found him cold as ice; truthfully she found that more worrying than a fever.

“Please tell me someone has an idea?” She hated the pleading tone of her voice; she hadn’t felt so helpless since learning through telegram that Thierry was ill back in the forties; the despair threatened to swallow her whole just as it had then when she realized her loved one was dying and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

“The solution would be to reverse the spell,” Klaus passed a glass of water to Kol.

Elena steadied his hand around the glass when it shook. “Thank you so much for stating the obvious,” she gritted her teeth.

“Well, nobody else was speaking,” he leaned against the wall.

“And you just had to fill the silence,” Kol wheezed.

“Drink,” Elena scolded him, tipping up the glass, “slowly.”

“There is no reversing mother’s spell,” Finn nodded to the page still in her hand. “The only thing to do would be to turn him again…”

“That would leave him vulnerable,” Rebekah shook her head, “not to mention – potentially – hundreds of vampires.”

“Would…” Kol coughed, took a sip of water and tried again. “Would it be p… possible to not discuss me as if I’m not right here?”

“He’d be alive,” Elijah glanced down at his brother.

“Or I’d be dead,” Kol rolled his eyes. “Do you really think that mother didn’t think of that possibility?”

“If you would all let me finish speaking,” Finn raised his voice to be heard over the din and the hall fell silent. He looked around to make sure nobody else was going to interrupt him before clearing his throat. “Kol is right, mother would have thought of that. I was referring to the spell that made us vampires.”

“A spell that requires a witch with mother’s blood, white oak, the blood of the doppelganger and the full moon,” Rebekah arched an eyebrow. “That’s impossible.”

“Not necessarily,” Elena chewed her bottom lip. “Your mother is downstairs…”

“I turned her actually,” Klaus lowered his eyes under her glare.

“… Two hours…” she muttered, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “Kol is also a witch…”

“I’m pretty sure I lack the power for a spell like that.”

“You’d only have to be present for it,” Elena waved him off. “Klaus has a store of my human blood on hand – unless you went on a hybrid making spree?” She met his eyes; despite having to crane her head back to catch his gaze, she did not feel small. She nodded when he shook his head. “That’s two things then and there is more white oak; a sapling replaced the tree you lot burnt to the ground.”

“How do you know this?” Elijah’s eyes narrowed.

“Do I look like a normal vampire?” Elena sighed. She rolled her shoulders back, adjusting her stance on the stairs. “A piece of it was used to make me back in 1914; I don’t know exactly where it came from, only that it originated somewhere in Mystic Falls.”

“Do you remember the cave where we carved our names?” Rebekah glanced between Klaus and Elijah, leaving Elena with the sense that Finn and Kol had been left out of the excursion. “I came across it last night when I was looking for Elena. Carvings have been added to the walls telling of the sapling she mentioned.”

“Even if you could find it, darling,” Kol braced his back against the stairs, “there is still that matter of a full moon that I will not live to see.”

It was Finn who answered her confused expression. Her stomach clenched painfully and she rocked forward, holding her head in her hands; mind racing a mile a minute. Time was a precious commodity that they were running out of.

If only she could freeze it.

She rubbed her forehead with frozen fingers. She needed more time; time to find the white oak, time to prepare the spell, time to reach the full moon.

He would be dead before she could do any of it.

If only she could stop the clock.

What a shame cryonics wasn’t a possibility.

She needed some magical council. She needed Bonnie – who wasn’t talking to her – or Freya – who was taking a very long nap.

“A very long nap…” she breathed so softly the other vampires only heard her exhale. She lifted her eyes, glancing at the Originals who were tied to her and the one who wasn’t; Rebekah met her gaze head on and spotted the determined light before her brothers registered the change in Elena’s demeanor. “I have an idea; a crazy, stupid, impulsive idea that is just ludicrous enough that it might work.”

Thoughts? :D I love hearing from you.

@elejah-wonderland @elejahforever @eternityunicorn @morsmornte @fandomrulesall @xanderling @cry-btch @kol-and-elena-fanfiction @geekofmanyfandoms

[madartiste]

Deadly Fortune, Book 2, Chapter 00-1 - 15

The chapter numbering for the second book is a little weird because there are a couple 00 numbered chapters that take place before the game starts.  It’s mainly stuff for Lady and what she was up to that led her to encounter the Order of the Sword.

Everything is under the cut again.

Link to the translation: https://originaldmc.github.io/DivinityStatue/Downloads.html

Link to the previous section of Notes: https://madartiste.tumblr.com/post/186824600040/deadly-fortune-book-1-chapters-6-11

Stage 00-1 (Before the game -- Lady encounters the Order)

We get some Lady!  She's hunting a demon (naturally).  She hears a weird noise that sounds more like a machine than a human or a demon.  Lady calls out a warning because she doesn't want to accidentally shoot a person.  They don't respond to her, so she decides to shoot anyway, and one of the Bianco Angelos blocks the rocket with its shield.  She asks if they got lost on their way to a costume party.  Though they don't answer, their posture tells Lady they're definitely listening to her. Interestingly, they don't attack her even though she attacked first, but they're still insanely strange and refuse to say or do anything to respond to her.

So she shoots them again.  They scuffle a bit, she notices they've got some good gear since the armor can fly and they have motorized spears.  She lands a hit and notices there is no blood. Apparently there are sometimes demons with no bodies, though it's very rare, and they can possess things -- 'Like old dolls or torture instruments' (wow).  Items with significant emotional attachment to humans are their favorite shells.  Lady considers that while medieval armor could possibly be possessed, this armor seems like it is far too new in construction.  She also thinks that she's seen the crest that the knights are wearing before but can't remember.

Lady beats the first Bianco Angelo, noticing the blue-white lights that dissipate out of it, and is about to take some of the armor when more show up and surround her.  There's a nice part where she thinks that when she was younger, she'd probably pick a fight with them, but now that she's more experienced, she understands her limitations better.  She also notices they caught the demon she was after -- it has wings and a face like a dog according to her.   Deciding that she doesn't like her odds, Lady hops on her bike after distracting the knights with her rocket launcher.  She finds the situation strange, since they definitely could give chase but don't, and wonders why these demons possessing the armor are hunting other demons.

Stage 12 (Credo dies)

Nero is starting to lose himself inside the Savior.  At first he feels completely calm and comfortable, but he can't remember who he is and can't move.  After a moment, he remembers that he has to save someone.  

Dante thinks of Mundus when he sees the Savior fly off.  He comments that the bad guys have similar patterns.  

Credo wakes up, and Dante does not care about his condition -- which seems harsh, but Dante further ruminates that Credo is a proud guy who wouldn't want sympathy from his enemy.  He also is pretty sure Credo is dying.  Dante correctly realizes that the plan is to open the gate to the underworld so that Sanctus can play hero.  He's not impressed.

Dante thinks this is just like Temen-ni-gru, though that was built by humans.  He's not overly concerned about the whole thing because 'the passage to the devil world is only a little longer.'  (Not sure exactly what that means.)  He also expresses that he doesn't like it when people tell him what to do or try to give him tasks, though he admires Credo's resolve and that he's managed to hold on to his humanity despite becoming a demon.

The way Credo dissolves when he dies isn't typical for a demon, and Dante thinks it's because of Credo's convictions.  He thinks 'This must be the way angels sacrificed.'

Dante and Trish only took this job for entertainment which is why they didn't take it seriously.  But now they feel obligated to fulfill Credo's dying request.  Dante particularly finds humans who use demons to be abhorrent, and he wants to put an end to the Order.  There's a line about him not being young anymore and that he's seen a lot of stuff, but Credo's death touched his heart.  

Stage 00-2 (Before the game -- Lady learns about the Order)

Lady goes to a collector of supernatural items named John.  It seems she doesn't like him much, and his smile creeps her out.  There's a note that 'John swayed like a bald-headed man.'  Whatever that means.  She shows them the coat of arms (the Order's symbol).  He says he knows what it is, but doesn't tell her, so Lady bribes him with some 'devil's blood.'  She dislikes all the collectors because they try to flaunt their knowledge to her.  Also hey remind her of Arkham.  

John scoffs at her 'demon blood' because it shouldn't remain in liquid form.  It either evaporates quickly after being spilled or crystallizes.  But she knows better and tells him to "Forget it."  He changes his tune and asks if the blood is real and how it could be liquid.  She explains that if demon blood is poured onto a stone statue in a ritual, it can create a liquid demon called a Blood Bat.  When the Bat is hit with high heat, it turns back into a stone statue, and that what she's got in her vial is part of the Blood Bat.   She offers to let him set fire to the blood since it will turn to stone.  And after a while, it will turn back into a liquid.

John tries out the trick and is super stoked.  He grabs her hand in his excitement -- which she doesn't care for.  John digs into his collection and brings back a book which has the Order's coat of arms on it: "The Teaching Code of the Order of the Sword."  Ooooh, Lady saw the symbol in her father's study when she was a little kid.  The book is about 4-500 years old, though the Order existed before that.

There's a 'Demon Sociology Group'???

John asks her if she wants a more recent book of their teachings, though it'll be a bit hard to get.  He's very, very pleased with her gift, so he's willing to go the extra mile for her this time.  Lady thinks there's something seriously shady happening, so she says yes.

Stage 13 (Dante vs the Blitz)

Agnus has been in the Savior during all this, so he visits Sanctus in the control room.  The Savior has some automatic functions, but needs a human to do the more complex stuff.  He's disappointed in how little Sanctus changed with his transformation, wondering if it's because Sanctus is so old.  (There's a good translator's note that says that Angus considers switching between human and devil forms to be a 'passage to heaven.')

Agnus actually finds himself afraid of Sanctus and realizes it's because the old geezer is juiced full of powerful energy.  He's ashamed of doubting Sanctus.  He thinks that the power of the devil forms is related to the strength of the person's spirit.  Interestingly, Agnus admits he is not a devout believer in Sparda.  He's more interested in studying devils than he is in following Sparda and mainly used his position to satisfy his scientific curiosity.  But seeing Sanctus… he's filled with awe and believes in his vision.

Angus thinks that Sanctus needs a new title because he should rule over not just the human world but the underworld too.  (Good luck with that.)  He calls him "Emperor of the Devil."  Sanctus just laughs and gives him Yamato to go unlock the Hell Gate.  Agnus pauses and asks what Sanctus will do about Dante -- which Sanctus thinks should be easy with the Savior.

Sanctus also seems to plan to blame all the insanity that's about to happen on Dante.  Dante is unpredictable, Agnus worries that they'll be in trouble if they underestimate him.  Aha, Agnus thinks that with Yamato he will have enough strength to beat Dante.  (Is there something about Yamato and making people feel powerful??)  Now that Credo is dead and he is Sanctus' most trusted confidant, Agnus is feeling pretty ballsy.

Back to Dante: Dante clearly smells demons afoot.  There are some funky dark clouds gathering that shoot lightning at a demon.  Oh, the Blitz.  Interesting note: In Dante's experience, if a demon doesn't have eyes or a nose, it usually has some kind of organ that replaces those functions.  Demons without eyes are rare, though the Blitz has really good hearing.

He uses Ebony and Ivory and thinks of Nell Goldstein (awww), remembering her saying that a normal person can't fire their guns like a machine gun -- which is why she designed his guns to handle being fired at an inhuman rate.  Dante considers his guns to be partners.  He also doesn't normally bring other weapons besides the pistols and Rebellion, but he brought along Coyote-A this time.

Rebellion is the first weapon Dante got, and Sparda trained him to fight with a sword.  There's a line about how the sword symbolizes the power to protect a loved one.

Fighting the Blitz, Dante considers that a dying demon's only instinct is destruction, essentially wanting to kill everything around it when it goes.  Hence the Blitz blowing itself up.

Stage 00-3 (Lady hires Dante and Trish)

 Lady is considering what to do about the Bianco Angelos.  They are obviously collecting demons for something, but they don't attack her unless she attacks them first.  She debates about going to Fortuna, but isn't keen on the idea, though if the Angelos keep interfering with her hunts, she's losing money and reputation.  She's chillin' on the sofa in her own room, thinking about what to do.  Demon hunters are pretty rare and scattered around the country, but she knows a few people.  Obviously, the person she thinks can deal with this is Dante.

She actually wonders if Dante is his real name because some people call him Tony -- though she knows this was an old alias.  She heads out to his place, calls his area of town a 'slum.'  Lady strolls into the office without knocking.  She thinks that Dante would eat pizza or drink if he has nothing better to do, and that he eats sundaes like a little kid.

Lady doesn't know too much about Trish, only that she used to be Dante's partner and that she's not human.  Trish is apparently traveling the world right now, but sometimes swings by Devil May Cry.

Dante turns her job down because he's suspicious of Lady's methods -- she sticks him with the damage fees all the time -- but Lady knows he doesn't really take jobs for the money.  He just wants to kill demons. Apparently Trish knows about the Order of the Sword but doesn't say anything.  

Lady has her doubts about Dante really being the son of Sparda, and when she asks him how much he knows, Dante says who can know everything about their dad?  Lady finds the answer strange even for Dante. He gets his interest hooked at the point that Lady says they worship Sparda like a god on Fortuna.  Despite what he'd like, Dante still wants to know about his father.

While she's talking, Trish is picking up the Sparda and some Devil Arms, but Dante doesn't notice.  Lady doesn't care who takes the job.

Stage 14 (Dante vs. Echidna)

Agnus is in the Opera House.  Only a few people know how to get to the Hell Gate under the building.  The secret passage was built way before the Opera House, and Sanctus ordered Agnus to figure out where it was.  The Hell Gate directly under the center of the city. Apparently the space is very creepy. He's excited to see the culmination of his research.

The original Hell Gate developed over time, caused by the 'magical difference between the human world and the underworld.'  The little Hell Gates Agnus made concentrated magical energy in the area, allowing them to open the the Real Hell Gate all at once.

Back to Dante: He sees all the demons spilling out of the big Hell Gate and says "That's… not good."  (Hah!) Even he is apprehensive about dealing with that many demons at once.  He also is worried that they won't be able to save all the people.  

Dante doesn't usually hang on to his Devil Arms.  In fact, he sells them to pay his debts.

He's counting on the Order knights to protect the citizens, so he's focusing on getting back his Devil Arms and closing the small Hell Gates.  Dante is confident he can win, but he knows he can't destroy the Savior with Nero inside since that could kill the poor kid.

In Mitis Forest, the air is so dense with demon energy that a normal person would just pass right out.  Dante literally is looking forward to 'playing' with some tough demons.  

He banters with Echidna, and there's a note that demons who can speak human languages are always chatty and show off.  Dante grabs his Devil Arm before the fight in this.  I guess there's a question if Gilgamesh is a true Devil Arm (which makes a bit of sense since DMC5 says it's actually a special kind of metal from the Underworld.).  Dante Rising Dragon's Echidna and is a bit disappointed that she gets taken out so fast.  It sounds like he gets intensely bored fighting demons and does all his showy moves mainly to entertain himself.

Stage 15 (Dante vs. Dagon)

Lady POV: She's on a boat on her way to Fortuna.  The sailors can't believe she wants to go there with all the crazy stuff going on.  She tells one of them that when she gets there, she'll put a stop to it… probably (she doesn't let them hear that last part).  Three days after she left, Trish sent Lady a letter asking her to come by Fortuna in a month to pick her and Dante up.  Lady gets attacked by a Mephisto. The sailor's name is Ben, and Lady tries to protect him and the ship.

She beats the demon but a ton more show up.  She suggests Ben run to the lifeboat.

Back to Dante: He tries to get frisky with Dagon's ladies who tease him and dart away -- though he's already aware the frog demon is there thanks to the smell.  Dagon has similarly poor human speech, like Bael, that Dante can barely understand.  He also doesn't know who Dante is -- and Dante's disappointed by that. He asks if Dagon is "from the country."

The demon frogs come out of the hell gate before Dante kills Dagon.  He Enemy Steps his way over to the Hell Gate to grab Pandora. To use Pandora's different forms, Dante just has to picture them in his mind.  It was either built by or WAS an 'ordinance worker in the demon world.'  I'm thinking built by because this demon also built a bunch of other guns.  (Was it Machiavelli?  Same guy who made Artemis?)  Pandora can read the 'memory and the imagination' of the user to change into many shapes.  When Trish first saw the Argument form for Pandora, she said Dante is just a big kid.  He admits that he probably got the idea from a comic book or movie but still thinks it's cool.  Also he got hit with the Omen transformation on accident before.  He refers to that as 'tragic consequences.'

Link to the next section of notes: https://madartiste.tumblr.com/post/186847847540/deadly-fortune-book-2-chapters-16-20

[wintersblight]

YOI Fanfic Recs

I’m going to attempt this, so we’ll see how it goes.  This list is going to be mostly Victuuri fics, so keep that in mind.  Also, these are all AO3 works.  I’ll try to go back through and add all the Tumblr handles after I get the list done.  These are some of my personal favorites and may not be as well known.  I’m really new to Tumblr and don’t know how to make the links all pretty, so they’re just going to be regular links with info on the fics under the links.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9651944/chapters/21806939

Blackbird, by @thetwoguineabook  is one of the best-researched fanfics I’ve ever read.  The sheer amount of time the author put into this is astounding.  Victor and Yuuri are spies during the Cold War and they just tug at your heart strings through the whole thing.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9326738/chapters/21134273

Twingenuity, by @caeseria features one of my favorite OC’s of all time.  Yuuri has a twin brother named Koji who is overly affectionate and together they have no personal boundaries.  If you’re not into polyamory, you’re not going to like this one, but it’s oh so good!

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9654452/chapters/21811016

Call Everything on the Ice... by @shysweetthing has one of the best Katsuki Maris I’ve read in fanfic.  It’s also hilarious and has a kick ass seduction scene by our favorite Katsudon.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9507638/chapters/21506681

Kintsugi, by @witchsbane is a mafia fic.  It’s a WIP & currently, 15 chapters are done.  This thing is so good!  I love how Yuuri & Phichit are in it, as well as Yuri & Otabek.  Victor isn’t the typical mafia boss, which just makes me love him more.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10269956/chapters/22745297

Money Shot, by @captain-erwinmerica  is the best thing I hope gets updated soon.  It’s a WIP with Yuuri & Phichit as MMA fighters and Victor as ???? but providing financial support for Yuuri.  Victor is SO HOT in this.  Can’t wait to see where it leads!

 http://archiveofourown.org/works/11497413/chapters/25793136

And Miles to Go before I Sleep, by @orchids-and-fictional-cities involves Victor as an immortal, Yuuri as a cursed kiddo, and Seung-Gil Lee as a Grim Reaper of sorts.  If you like fairy tales go read this beautiful thing.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10993290/chapters/24485154

Devil’s Trill, by Feels Like Fire is a NSFW angel/demon BDSM au and it’s really, really worth reading.  Just not at work.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9499724

With Fire in Their Eyes, by Askerian made me want to go see Pacific Rim.  Still haven’t seen that, but the au is fantastic.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9502262

Ebony & Ivory, by @wbtrashking is an au where Yuuri is a famous pianist and Victor is the curator of an art gallery (I think.  It’s been awhile since I read this, but it’s really good.)

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10560426/chapters/23329658

You Set My Heart on Fire, by @whelvenwings is a beautifully written soulmate au where Victor and Yuuri are both artists.

[athyrabunlord]

LLSHP 9 - Christmas Banquet

Arc1: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7]

Arc2: [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14]

Arc3: [Chapter 15 -  Under The Black Lake (TBD)]

Interlude: [Carbonado (1)] [Carbonado (2)] [Of Feathers and Wind] [Delphinus (teaser blip)]

[Brief note about School Term] [other LLSHP AU stuff] [YohaMaRuby concept arts] [ChikaYouRiko concept arts] [KanaDiaMari concept arts] [Hogwarts Staff]

[FFN link] (finished the interludes!) [Pixiv Link]

A/N: (ง •̀_•́)ง Yup still keeping up this update schedule of 1 chapter every two weeks! Still slowly editing previous chapters though XD; Anyway, this feels more like a long filler chapter tbh, but it’s full of fun stuff! I enjoyed writing it, so I hope you’ll enjoy reading it too! Words: 8,073

Yoshiko grins at her reflection in the mirror.

How can anyone look so flawless? So utterly bewitching? How can such a perfect human being exist? Ah, no mere mortal could be this beautiful, that is the truth. She, the great Yohane, is a fallen angel after all!

For the umpteenth time, she smoothes the non-existent crinkles of her raven-black velvet dress, her silk gloves brushing over the grey ribbons and white frills. The dark magenta rose imprint along the hem only accentuates how majestic the wearer is.

She is so, so ready for the Christmas Banquet!

Chuckling huskily, she takes one step towards the grand ornate mirror and lightly touches its shiny surface. The last time she used a full-body mirror, the Mirror of Erised, she was filled with unpleasant sense of inferiority and downright confusion of her own identity. But now, this ordinary mirror shows her who she truly is, and she is pleased with herself.

Why desire to be a pristine angel, when her current self is even better?

All the challenges she's faced and the possibility of her soul being damaged only make her stronger.

That incident with the colony of Acromantula caused her to become wary of even the tiniest spiders for days, but since then she has been faring better in those practice duels against the older witches. Her improvement was the only reason why Dia lifted the tickling Jinx she set on Mari. Still, the blonde is banned from coffee and lemon pie until further notice, much to her horror. Taking pity on her, the rest of the group manages to convince Dia to disregard this rule just for tonight's feast.

The Christmas Banquet is an end of the first term celebration where esteemed guests from outside the school would attend as well. The astounding feast, prepared by House Elves and staff members together, is actually not the main attraction of this event.

The spotlight is the Yule Ball, which was originally part of the famed Tri-Wizard Tournament that used to take place between three magical schools. Nowadays, it is a ballroom dance competition that was started by some of the professors back when they were still students. Considering Hogwarts' long history, this is a fairly recent tradition that's been gaining popularity over the decades. The dancing pair not only have to be the best in their waltz, tango or other types, but also boost the flair of their performance with magic. Yoshiko heard rumors of explosive fireworks, dancing leprechauns and even actual storms in the past.

Chaotic, yet incredibly thrilling. What better way to end a term with a blast?

Of course, she did consider entering the competition and enrapture everyone in her fallen angel charm, but there is one teensy bitsy setback she just can't seem to overcome.

She's horrible at ballroom dancing.

And also, she has no partner.

Alright, not one but two setbacks in total. Her confident grin slips into a scowl. Before Hogwarts, she's been an avid follower of Muggle hip-pop, rock and rap, and she knows all the various choreography by heart.

However, ballroom dance is a whole different matter. Riko had been kind enough to try teaching her, but she's stepped on the older girl's feet one too many times. After she fled the Room of Requirement in mortification, it took Hanamaru and Ruby a lot of convincing for her to even attend the Banquet at all.

Yoshiko shakes her head. Her two best friends are correct - all she has to do is look pretty and enjoy herself. There's no need to force herself to waltz or whatever!

Now that her confidence has returned, she steps out of her room to join the rest of her Slytherin housemates so they can head down to the Great Hall together. Whispers of praises and even friendly greetings make her tilt her chin high. While she isn't particularly close to any of them, they've all been civil to her and respect her wish for privacy.

"Nice dress, Tsushima-san!"

"Ku ku ku, I made it myself! I hand-picked all the materials and accessories~"

"That is fascinating! And the ribbon in your hair matches everything so well."

"Oh and your earrings..."

Truth be told, Yoshiko is rather taken aback by all the attention she's been given. Is it because she's dressed all fancy and could probably pass for a noble Pureblood? Or, perhaps, they have truly acknowledged her as a true Slytherin seeing how her grades have improved leaps and bounds under Dia's tutelage? Yoshiko hasn't really paid much attention to her housemates the past few months, so focused on her training and spending time with her friends.

She makes a mental note to be nicer to them. It doesn't hurt to make more allies, especially amongst those who share the same House as her. She searches a crowd for a familiar face, and quietly asks a wizard nearby.

"Erm, does anyone know where Dia-san is?"

The Slytherin prefect, whose aristocratic features imply he must be from an ancient Pureblood family, informs her that Dia is currently with the staff and guests, as the Kurosawa's representative.

Yoshiko pouts. Since she does not have a 'date' or partner, so to speak, she is hoping that she could stick to Dia's side until they reach the Hall at least. Alas, it looks like she'll have to make it there on her own. The rest of her Housemates look like they have partners already, and she isn't comfortable with the idea of accompanying someone she isn't close with anyway.

She quietly trails after the other Slytherins, glad to be distracted from her thoughts by their praises and curious questions about her fashion. Hushed murmurs then reach her ears after they step out of the Dormitory, and she blinks in surprise when the people in front of her part ways to allow a familiar girl to get through.

Yoshiko can't help but whistle in wonder. "I almost didn't recognize you! I thought I'm supposed to meet up with you and Zuramaru just outside the Hall?"

Ruby smiles shyly, clearly uncomfortable at how every pair of eyes seem to be on her. The shorter girl is clad in a dress robe of ebony and ivory hue, though the cape is adorned with the Hufflepuff bronze. With her hair tied in a ponytail, she looks rather dashing yet retains her characteristic cute aura.

"Um, Hanamaru-chan said she'll meet up with us later… she's having some trouble with her outfit, but when I tried to stay and help, she asked me to pick you up," Ruby twitters. "Hehe, you look so pretty, Yoshiko-chan!"

"Hnff, of course, it's Yohane-sama you're speaking with." As someone who enjoys the spotlight, Yoshiko is starting to find all those whispered conversations around them disconcerting. "Let's go then?"

As if understanding her intention, Ruby nods and holds out her gloved hand in a chivalrous manner. It is at such moment that Yoshiko has to remind herself that, no matter how harmless and critter-like Ruby is, she is still a Kurosawa Pureblood who has a different upbringing than her. Either way, the gesture endears the shorter girl to her even more.

"Heh, it's like you're a knight in shiny armor-," Yoshiko's grin twitches. "Well, I probably shouldn't use the word 'shiny', ugh. But really, why the dress robe? You look really good in it but I'd expected you to wear a dress?"

"Oh, that was my plan but last night, I received a parcel from m-my family. This is the formal attire I used to wear back then during important events. See? These colors represent the Kurosawa family," Ruby's smile softens, prompting Yoshiko to gently squeeze her friend's hand in comfort. "It's the first mail I've received from them since the night we got Sorted. I see they're trying to reconcile with me, so of course I'm more than happy to try as well."

"That's good. I mean, they should've long accepted you but at least this is better than nothing. Although, the Hufflepuff color-?"

There's a mischievous twinkle in Ruby's green eyes. "Hehe, I modified it myself. I'm proud to be a Puff and I'll always be."

Yoshiko chuckles fondly at her friend. "And I'm proud of you, Ruby. How about Zuramaru though? Please don't tell me she's also in dress robes or some… high-class samurai outfit or something."

It may sound ridiculous though she has no problem imagining the brunette wearing that. Hanamaru does love literature, especially romance fiction set in certain historical periods. Or, she could be draped in fancy ribbons and flowy dresses, not knowing how to put it on, while murmuring 'mirai zura' in admiration.

Ah, Hanamaru will probably smack her if she says that to her face. She can try, Yoshiko smirks, tonight, the great Yohane shall not be tamed by a mere little demon's whims!

"You'll have to wait and see, Yoshiko-chan. I promised Hanamaru-chan not to say anything to you because she wants to see your reaction," Ruby's steps gain a bit of a bounce as they walk down the hallways.

Yoshiko doesn't get a chance to protest because a pair of familiar orange and silver pounce on Ruby the moment they round the corner. Unlike her, the Gryffindor duo is quite vocal about their adoration of the handsome little Hufflepuff.

"Piki!"

"As expected of our Ruby-chan!"

"A real noble! A real prince!"

"Look at the fabric, look at the design! It's the real deal! Ahhh do you mind if I borrow it tomorrow? For research?"

"Hehe, you and your costume obsession, You-chan~ Still, both of you look so ikemen~! Kya, aren't we lucky, Riko-chan?"

Yoshiko allows her gaze to sweep over the three Third-Years, amazed by their respective appearances. Riko has chosen a conservative gown of amaranth and wine hue that's decorated with sakura petals along the hem, a perfect outfit that matches the pretty wearer's personality. Simple and elegant, the Ravenclaw chuckles daintily at her friends' antics. No doubt the voted campus beauty will be surrounded by suitors vying for her hand in a dance.

Chika is as cheerful as always, though there is now an inexplicable grace added to her charisma. Her hair is straightened with the signature braid adorned with a white rose. As opposed to her usual bright colored clothes, she is wearing a dark indigo cocktail dress embellished with white satin belt. Admittedly, if it weren't for her familiar laughter and fawning over Ruby, Yoshiko would have thought she is a refined guest from some upper-class family!

"Ehehe~ You-chan styled my hair!" Chika twirls around and winks at Yoshiko, who grins back in spite of herself. Yup, that's still the spirited Beater alright. "Can't thank you enough, Captain Watanabe!"

"Ha ha, 'twas my honor, First Mate Takami!" You salutes back, this characteristic gesture now rather suave given her outfit. Unlike her buddy, the Seeker is dressed in a formal suit that is probably made from pricey material, judging from the way it gleams at just the right angle. The popular witch, combined with her attractive smile, will most likely be chased by her fanclub the whole night.

Noticing Yoshiko's questioning gaze, You chuckles heartily. "I was going to wear a dress too, but ahaha our Housemates kinda bullied Kanan-chan and I into wearing a suit… they prepared this outfit for me, and I can't resist! I'm so going to research the fabric and its origins later! I mean, look at this tie! The gradient color is so pretty!"

"Well, you both look quite nice. Are you each other's dates?" Yoshiko smirks. Even after witnessing the duo's impressive teamwork and display of powerful magic, her opinion of them as dunderheads hasn't changed. Nowadays though, it's more of an affectionate nickname than having any derisive connotation behind it.

"Nope," they reply simultaneously. "We're Sakurauchi-hime's escorts tonight!"

Riko, who is standing several paces behind them, squeaks in surprise when she's promptly sandwiched between the two. It looks comical really, if Yoshiko doesn't know the history behind the three. While the self-proclaimed bodyguards playfully tease their flustered friend and Ruby, two more witches join their gathering.

"My my, everyone looks so gorgeous~!"

Mari, for some reason, is also wearing a tailored suit, her usually wavy golden hair straightened for the occasion and styled at the back with a few emerald clips. Combined with the azure bowtie, dark jacket with peaked lapels, turquoise waistcoat and more, she is fully decked for the Ball. She would have passed for an European gentleman if it weren't for her generous chest area, which just couldn't seem to be hidden.

As if reading her thoughts as always, the blonde smirks at her and puffs out her bosom even more. Yoshiko despairingly glances down at her own and grumbles. "Hmnnff, don't you look excited for the feast."

"You bet I am! I'm dying for my precious lemons," Mari purrs sweetly as she tugs on her date's arm. Yoshiko is pretty sure the implication has flown over the others' heads, and she groans inwardly at the realization that she is corrupted enough to know the Ravenclaw's double meaning.

Mari's lovely date appears just as exasperated. The tall witch has long cascading indigo tresses as dark and flowing as the ocean itself. The gradient plum and purple color of her silken mermaid dress complements her hair and eyes, while the translucent violet shawl gives her an overall mystic quality. Although, she looks familiar for some reason.

"Kanan-chan! How could you! You were supposed to wear a suit with me!" You puffs up her cheeks in dismay.

Yoshiko's eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. Come again?

"Ahaha sorry You," that laidback tone of laughter definitely belongs to the Gryffindor Lions' Captain. "We flipped a coin and I lost, so I had to wear the dress."

Yoshiko could only stare.

"Oh oh oh~ You've ensnared the lil'kitty here in your charms, Kanan~" Giggling, Mari rests her chin on her partner's shoulder.

"What!? No! It's just that, I've never seen her without that whip of a ponytail!"

"She hisses~ Maybe she'll scratch too~"

Yoshiko indignantly snarls at the blonde, almost blurting out that she's the cat Animagus, not her, but manages to remember last minute that You and Chika are present too. Her irritation subsides a bit when the others also agree that they've never seen Kanan with her hair down either.

"Anyways, Kanan and I will so win the Ball this year! We've had four years of practice, it's our turn to finally shine!" Fire blazes in Mari's eyes, though her expression couldn't remain serious for long as a Cheshire grin breaks through.

"But how about your arm?" Yoshiko squints at Kanan's supposedly injured arm, which looks unblemished.

"Mari cast a glamor Charm on it, and for the duration of the dance, I can do this," the older witch taps her bracelet and momentarily reveals strings of magic that blend in with her hair. "This enables me to move my arm as per my thoughts."

"Remember not to overuse it." Riko clearly doesn't seem too happy that Kanan isn't letting her injured arm rest.

"Don't worry, Rikocchi~! That's why I'm the lead, yes?" Mari winks at her junior. "I'm wondering though, none of you are entering the competition?"

Chika waves her hand. "Welp, I'm interested, but not with you two as rivals! Besides, we're keeping Riko-chan away from nasty suitors! Also, protecting our Ruby-chan."

At this, the Gryffindor duo smothers the startled Hufflepuff in a hug. Yoshiko rolls her eyes. "How about this one? I still remember how scary your fanclub is, You-san."

You points to herself, blinking naively. "But I'm with Chika-chan and Riko-chan?"

"So? They'll still try to get to you. Since you don't have a partner, many will try to make you dance with them," Yoshiko explains as patiently as she could. Could this dummy be more dense?

"But Chika-chan and Riko-chan are my partners-?"

Yoshiko groans and facepalms.

"Did you hear that, Rikocchi? Just enjoy yourself tonight," Mari's voice is light and teasing, though Yoshiko could understand the underlying meaning. Riko does appear tense from all the affection You and Chika have been showering her with.

"But I-"

"No buts! Fallo e basta~ That means no Disillusion Charm either." Tutting, Mari holds up her finger like an older sister chiding an unreasonable sibling. "It's a banquet, a feast, a celebration! Come on, Dia must be dying to see our lovely faces inside the Hall already."

"It'll take a while before we can rescue her from those guests though," Kanan smiles as her partner leads her inside, followed by the playfully bickering You and Chika who take Riko by the arm on each side.

"We're gonna wait here for Zuramaru," Yoshiko calls out after them, determined to ignore her growling tummy at all the delicious aroma wafting towards her nose.

She glances at Ruby, whose hair is a tad disheveled from all the hugs she received earlier. She helpfully holds up a pouch mirror as the shorter girl fixes her bangs. "So? Who're you gonna dance with later? Chika-san? You-san?"

"E-Eh? But you said you're not going to dance right? Then I can't just leave you alone," Ruby says firmly.

"Oh I just assumed you gotta dance as a Kurosawa. I overheard from my Housemates that many of them are expected to dance, to present their family or something. Then again, you don't have to, since you're here as Ruby, simple as that."

Ruby returns her grin. "Well, I do want to dance with Hanamaru-chan and you, if you don't mind, Yoshiko-chan."

"... you saw how I stepped on Lily's foot didn't you? She was nice enough not to say anything but I'm sure she had to use potions to make the bruises go away."

"That's because you were under pressure. It'll just be us three, so you'll be fine!"

Yoshiko finds Ruby's smile infectious. "I just gotta do my Rubesty huh?"

"Yup! Starting right now!" Suddenly, the shorter girl turns her around and pushes with strength unexpected of her.

Yoshiko feels her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Hanamaru, who gives her a bashful little wave. The brunette is wearing a traditional kimono of amber and gold shades, extravagant in its floral motif and intricate designs fitting for festive occasions. Even then, the whole attire somehow emphasizes Hanamaru's unique aura of humility and serenity.

She is beautiful.

"Sorry to keep you two waiting zura… it's been a while, so it took me some time to on the obi," the brunette sticks out her tongue sheepishly, gesturing at the elaborate sienna sash around her midriff.

Yoshiko is still zoned out while the two Hufflepuffs giggle and fawn over each other's attire. She only snaps back to her senses when Hanamaru reaches up and prods her forehead.

"Ow! What did you think you were doing, you disrespectful little demon!"

"Because you weren't paying attention zura!"

"No, I'm over-paying attention, Bakamaru," Yoshiko mumbles in embarrassment, hoping her cheeks aren't red.

"Zura?"

"Nothing, and stop giggling already Ruby! Geez, what's with the little demons tonight. It's mutiny, I say!"

"Yoshiko-chan is easier to rile up tonight, ne, Ruby-chan?"

"Mari-san called her a kitty cat earlier, Hanamaru-chan~"

"Oooh, that fits her zura~"

"Grrrr, shorties don't get to talk." Miffed, Yoshiko ruffles their hair using her slightly-superior height, grinning in satisfaction at their protests. "Why the kimono though? You're gonna stand out since everyone's wearing western-style clothing."

"Not true zura. Professor Koizumi is wearing a kimono, so is Professor Sonoda," Hanamaru pouts, "Besides, I don't have any dresses zura, and it's what my grandma sent me when I Owled her that we're having a banquet."

Thank you thank you, may Satan bless your soul, Grandma Kunikida. Yoshiko chants in her head while outwardly appearing as nonchalant as possible. "Whatever. At least you're wearing contacts and not wearing those granny glasses. Let's go in already. I'm starving!"

"Me too," Hanamaru attaches herself to Ruby's offered arm, giggling. "Hehe, we're like your dates ne, Ruby-chan?"

In response, the dashing Hufflepuff bows to Yoshiko like a gentleman and holds out her other hand. The Slytherin rolls her eyes at their expectant gaze and curtsies before accepting it.

Though flustered, Yoshiko finds herself giggling with her friends as they enter the Great Hall together.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Again, that's Miss Ohara and Miss Matsuura with their spectacular performance. Please give them a round of applause!"

The Charms Professor has already used the Sonorous Charm to do announcements, but even then her voice is drowned by the student body's thunderous cheers. Yoshiko finds herself clapping just as hard as everyone else, amazed by what she has witnessed.

Magic really brings a simple ballroom dance to a whole new level, doesn't it?

The waltz started normally like ones Yoshiko had seen in older Muggle movies, with the two witches moving in tandem and in sync. Never would she imagine the jokester Mari and jockey Kanan to twirl and sway so gracefully along with classy music. They were obviously well-rehearsed, but their years of friendship probably enabled them to read each other's movement to make everything flow.

Then their pace picked up, morphing seamlessly to a tango while the sparks and whirls of fire lit up the center stage. With a mixture of levitation charms, aguamenti and most likely some advanced magic Yoshiko knew nothing of, a screen of water enveloped the pair like a dome. Mari and Kanan seemed to be competing, fervently swimming around the arena as conjured marine creatures, the seal and dolphin Patronus Charms, and Transfigured creatures joined their acrobatic dance.

Needless to say, they finished with a literal bang, glitters and all, skating down the icy slope which dissipated into cottony snow flakes.

Yoshiko has to admit, that is one shiny performance.

"Yup, I'm glad I didn't try to enter the competition, at least not this year!" Chika's eyes are practically sparkling. "I'd rather watch the performances! Hehe, and watch Riko-chan playing the piano of course."

The Ravenclaw is seen smiling behind her grand piano, surrounded by Elves and other student members of the orchestra. In a way, Riko is shielded from possible suitors and the majority of the audience's attention during the Yule Ball, which is probably why she accepted the position in the first place.

Yoshiko sips at her strawberry punch, thoroughly enjoying the banquet so far. After the mouth-watering Christmas feast, the long tables in the Great Hall were then rearranged to make space for the Yule Ball in the center. High tables full of desserts and drinks were lined up against the walls while attendees mingled and simply enjoyed the show. The translucent ceiling was charmed to show snowflakes gently drifting in the evening sky, even though it didn't snow at all today.

At the front, the usual staff tables have been replaced by round ones for the various guests. Ruby had discreetly pointed out to her two Muggleborn friends some of the important figures, such as Heads of certain Departments from the Ministry, representatives from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, and even the illustrious wandmaker from Diagon Alley.

The Professors appear to be familiar with many of these guests, judging from the friendly and relaxed manner of their conversations. This encourages the older witches and wizards to introduce themselves and network among these influential people. Yoshiko notices many of her Slytherin Housemates already making impressions with the Ministry employees.

The most distinguished one is the Head Girl. As the Kurosawa heiress, Dia is dressed in full regalia of ebony and ivory, with the Slytherin cloak charmingly donned over her left shoulder. Various medals and trinkets decorate her garment, while her lustrous long hair, pulled in a fishtail braid, is draped elegantly over her right shoulder. With her austere demeanor and confident smile, she blends in well with the other adults. Yoshiko has almost mistaken her as a guest, a royalty even, and once again she is struck by the weight of being a Pureblood.

Dia isn't here just as herself, but as representative of her family.

Ruby appears antsy as well, unable to go help her older sister since they have to maintain the image of estranged sisters in public. They have no idea who the enemies are, and there is a possibility that they could be among the attendees right here in this very Hall.

Yoshiko downs her beverage and reaches for a different drink. Ruby's anxiousness is rubbing off of her, so she is relieved to see Mari and Kanan heading for the front. Surely, the two would rescue their friend as they had declared earlier. Oh, the pair has stopped to greet a bearded blond man. Judging from the familiar way they act and his uncanny Cheshire grin, he must be Mari's father. It's easy to forget that the quirky Ravenclaw came from a prestigious family too, since she doesn't act like one.

"Aren't you drinking too much zura?"

Yoshiko shakes her fingers at the frowning Hanamaru and takes another sip of her candy cane cocoa. She furrows her brows and puts the drink away before reaching for another one on the table, this time an eggnog coffee.

"Not this one either?" Ruby asks with an exasperated smile.

"Nope. At least, I don't feel any different," Yoshiko glares at the mug. "Just where could it be?"

Earlier, right before the Yule Ball, the Deputy Headmistress had announced that the Potion Professor prepared a surprise - the Felixis Felicis potion was randomly added to one of the many drinks. Yoshiko is determined to find that Liquid Luck. Being plagued by misfortune all her life, she wants to experience how it feels to not be unlucky for once, no matter how temporarily.

So far, no success.

"Maybe I should just go for those-"

"No," Hanamaru pulls at her arm before she could head for the cocktails and wine glasses on the other side. "You're still underage zura! Professor Sonoda stressed that it is for everyone, so they wouldn't have mixed the potion with drinks that aren't accessible to the younger students zura."

"Hnff, what would a mere Zuramaru know-"

"Oh, the next performance is starting!" Peacemaker as always, Ruby gestures at the center where another pair strolls through the floor just as confidently as Mari and Kanan did earlier. Since Yoshiko's feeling quite bloated, she decides to take her friend's advice to give up and enjoy the rest of the Yule Ball.

By the end, Yoshiko finds herself agreeing with Chika, that the competition is quite fierce. Mari and Kanan were good, but so were the others. It would probably be down to technicalities and the popular vote to determine which pair gets to be winners.

"Ok, so what now?" Yoshiko looks around the Hall, puzzled by how no one seems to be leaving. "Isn't the Banquet over?"

"Pfff, this is where the fun starts!" As if on cue, different sort of music starts playing and many students flood into the center stage to dance. Chika opens her arms dramatically. "Come on, who wants to start? Heh heh, Ruby-chan, how about you?"

"E-Eh? I-" The younger witch is gently but firmly pushed towards a confused Hanamaru, who is also nudged by a grinning You.

"Go on, enjoy yourselves!" The Gryffindors say in unison, which seems to give Ruby the courage she needs to ask the brunette for a dance. Both giggling, the Hufflepuffs enter the dance floor with their postures relaxed. This isn't like a performance where practically everyone is watching you, so the two girls are able to dance normally without such pressure.

Admittedly, they look adorable, and Ruby is a good lead! Chivalrously, she twirls the brunette around and her steps are unhurried for the latter to follow. Hanamaru's kimono sleeves twirl with her movements, the ribbon in her hair fluttering a bit as she try to match Ruby's pace. If only there's a camera!

An annoying prod to her side jostles her out of her observation. "What do you want?!"

"Don't you wanna dance too?" Chika pouts, one arm draped around her buddy You. "Come on, ya gotta save You-chan from her fangirls~"

Yoshiko peers over their shoulders and flinches at the sight of many witches staring their way, their bodies tense as if ready to spring into action the moment You steps away from the safety zone of expensive champagne glasses nearby. "And throw myself into a pack of rabid beasts? I think not!"

And besides, these dunderheads are quite transparent. They keep glancing at Riko's direction every few minutes, obviously waiting for the right moment to ask her for a dance. The Ravenclaw is currently occupied at the front, conversing with some of the Elven musicians.

"Yoshiko-chan, would you like to dance with me?"

"Ruby? You've finished dancing with Zuramaru?" Relieved to get away from the Gryffindors just for a while, Yoshiko hurriedly takes Ruby's offered hand.

"Oh, she's dancing with Kanan-san right now-"

"What?!"

Miffed, Yoshiko searches the crowd for the ridiculously tall-and-short pair. Indeed, the two are smiling brightly as Kanan attentively complements her movements with the younger girl. At least, the pair looks more like siblings than a couple, unlike the others around them. Gah, why is Bakamaru giggling so much? Is it really that fun!? What's with the blush?

Yoshiko takes a deep breath. Nope, she is so not jealous. The older Gryffindor has done a lot for them, and she's grateful for her help. Nuh-uh. Not jealous. Zen mode.

"I thought Kanan's supposed to be retrieving your sister from those guests?"

"Yup, Onee-chan's not trapped at the front anymore," Yoshiko follows Ruby's finger and sees Dia and Mari conversing on the side, surrounded by various prefects and students. It would be awhile before they could make their way to where Chika and You are. "Fine, whatever, let's get this started!"

"Okay, so first you- piki?!" Before Ruby could position them in the standard waltz stance, Yoshiko drags her friend around and twirls rather aggressively.

"Ku ku ku, I ain't gonna abide by silly ballroom rules! This is a free for all, Ruby! The music is kinda upbeat too, so I'm gonna do it my style!"

As much as she could in this dress anyway. It is really too bad she can't breakdance, or she's certain that she could impress many fellow students with her awesome techniques. Some of the Muggleborns are familiar with her moves and even cheer her on, while the Purebloods just stare at them blankly. There's curiosity in their eyes though, so Yoshiko happily pulls the squeaking Ruby along with her flow.

"That's pretty wicked, Yoshiko-chan, didn't know you could dance!" You is grinning while Chika welcomes an exhausted Ruby back to their midst. Yoshiko poses proudly, adrenaline rushing in her veins while a brilliant idea occurs to her.

Maybe she should ask Hanamaru for a dance?

She isn't given the opportunity to ask, for You excitedly pulls her onto the dance floor before she could react. Cold sweat trickles down Yoshiko's neck when she hears furious murmurs and disappointed grumbles from the pack of hungry wolves... no, fangirls.

You-san, you dense idiot! You're too close! Yoshiko couldn't help but blush when the older witch pulls her close, so close that their cheeks are practically touching. There are some screams or maybe cheers around them, she couldn't tell the difference, but out of instinct she clings to her partner as if this could save her from fangirls' wrath.

"Eheh, hang on~ Yousorou!"

"Wha- yeeeek!" Suddenly, You picks her up and throws her into the air!

She automatically tries to cover her fluttering dress, but she discovers that she doesn't have to. You must have conjured dancing feathers that hover around her, to block any viewers from seeing her underwear while she is airborne. Several brooms appear out of nowhere, and You tap-dances her way into the air, laughing and bowing as she approaches the slowly descending Yoshiko.

Strong arms easily catches her when You frog-leaps over the assembled tower of brooms. The athletic Gryffindor spins her around for several more paces before gently setting her back on her feet. The spectators' deafening applause overcomes the fangirls' protests as You rubs the back of her hair and hesitantly waves.

Yoshiko breathes raggedly, trying to comprehend what just happened as she leans against the older witch's shoulder.

"That was pretty good! Maybe we could refine it and enter the Ball next year- ow!"

Yoshiko scowls ferociously and smacks You's arm hard.

Again.

And again.

And once more.

"C-Chika-chan! She's punching me!"

"That's just a form of affection zura~"

"What-! Watch what you say, Bakamaru!"

Her ears feel like they are burning when she notices the rest of their group chuckling at their antics. At least, Hanamaru has returned from her dance with Kanan and is now stuffing her face with various desserts. Good, that's the Zuramaru she's used to. Be good and stay there. Keep feeding.

"That was amazing! What about it? Like You-chan said, you should form a duo, maybe called 'You & Angel?" Chika's previously tamed ahoge has sprung back up, swaying eagerly as the girl gives them a hug.

"No! And g-get off! I'm sweaty," Yoshiko pries the exuberant Gryffindors off of her person. Is this what Ruby feels all the time, being crowded by the baka duo? Although, it doesn't feel that bad, it's nice actually, because she can sense that the two witches are sincere in their hugs- no! The great Yohane shall not fall for their charm so easily!

She retreats to the side, huffing and puffing, and rummages through the tables for a drink she hasn't tried before. She glares at a glass of mikan juice, filled with pulp, for a good full minute. Taking a deep breath, she grabs the beverage and gulps down the content in noisy slurps.

Tearfully, she sticks out her tongue and waits for something to happen. Nope, other than a disagreeing tummy, she doesn't feel any special. Still no luck in finding that Felix Felicis potion. She glances back at her friends, noting that Chika and Hanamaru are now busy examining some sort of mikan dessert while Ruby happily eats a cup of pudding. Riko has finally joined them and is nibbling at a sandwich that You brought for her from another table. Kanan and Dia are several paces away, surrounded by admirers and younger students who must be taken by their respective outfits.

Hmn, where's that shiny cat Animagus?

She finds her answer a moment later when something reels her back onto the dance floor. Her vision is momentarily obscured by a top hat, which she scrambles to pull off. Half filled with annoyance and resignation, she blinks at the blonde witch holding out her gloved hand.

"Shall we dance~?"

Her lilting tone is a pitch lower than Yoshiko is used to, compelling her to accept the offer. Grinning, Mari begins to lead her around the other dancers, spinning her away and pulling her back at the right moment. Due to their height difference, Yoshiko is forced to peer up at the smirking witch, whose endowed bosom are rather distracting in an irritating way.

"Why do you want to dance with me anyway? Go back to your partner already." And keep that said partner away from Zuramaru, cheh.

"Why not? It's fun to dance with my cute little kouhai~ Besides, everyone's dancing, no?"

Yoshiko dares to glance around, noticing that Chika and Ruby have entered the center stage as well. You has somehow retrieved Kanan from Dia, who waves off her friend and is still occupied by the other students. It looks like the Gryffindor duo have failed or haven't tried asking Riko for a dance. Hanamaru is keeping Riko company as the two girls exchange accessories. True to her name, the sakura hairpin looks good on Hanamaru, while the saffron ribbon seems to make the hue of Riko's hair richer.

"Worried about Rikocchi, are we?"

"Well, yeah. Since that day with the Acromantulas, I've been watching her and the other two. It doesn't seem like Lily knows about the rumors, but those two bakas should be less obvious!"

"Hmm? Like how obvious you are towards Hanamaru-chan?"

"Yeah, exactly that! Wait what?! No! W-W-What are you talking about!"

Snickering, Mari tugs Yoshiko close and muffles her indignant shrieks against her coat. "Calm down~ Rikocchi is smart. She probably knows already, but doesn't want to believe it, understandably so."

"I see… what do we do then?"

"Now now, don't you worry about her. Just leave it to Kanan and I! We've got it worked out. You just focus on getting your girl~"

Mari smothers Yoshiko against her chest again before she could protest. "You'll see soon enough. It took a lot of convincing earlier, but Kanan and I cracked her down. There's no way Rikocchi would say no, teehee~"

Yoshiko scowls in the embrace and reluctantly relaxes. The hug does feel nice and comforting. While a part of her still doubts Mari due to her wacky ideas, she does agree that the senior is dependable whenever the occasion calls for it.

By the time they return to Riko and Hanamaru, the other pairs have finished their dance as well, while Dia has finally extracted herself from admirers. Yoshiko looks at every single one of her friends, pleased at this little bubble of nine. Her eyes meet Hanamaru's, and she freezes in self-consciousness. Puzzled, the brunette tilts her head and smiles adorably. A small splash of whipped cream is stuck to her puffed up cheek, which Yoshiko exasperatedly wipes away with a napkin.

"Aren't you eating too much, Butamaru?"

Frowning at the teasing nickname, Hanamaru punches Yoshiko's arm.

"Ow, that hurts!"

"Hnff, it'd better hurt zura!"

Yoshiko rolls her eyes. "Whatever, like you said, that's just a form of affection, ku ku ku~"

To her surprise, Hanamaru appears flustered and scoots away, placing a bewildered Ruby between them. Huh, that didn't go well. Time from Plan B.

"Okay, Yoshiko-chan, wish us luck," Chika and You suddenly whisper near her.

She hastily grabs hold of their arms before they could head towards Riko. "Wait, you're gonna go for it-?"

"Well, you're the only one we've told our little secret to, Yoshiko-chan," Chika fiddles with her fingers while You lets out a forceful chuckle. "Yeah, Chika-chan and I figure, it's now or never. We'll see which one of us Riko-chan picks, and we can move on."

"But-" Yoshiko helplessly glances at Mari, whose fiery eyes are focused elsewhere. Likewise, Kanan seems to be holding her breath, her expression intense as she stares in the same direction. Curious, Yoshiko and the two Gryffindors turn to look for what's holding their attention captive.

"Riko-san, may I have the pleasure of dancing with you?"

Dia's posture is slightly tense as she extends her hand towards the dazed girl. Riko's lips are parted in soundless surprise, her eyes wide as she glances between the gloved hand and Dia's earnest gaze. A pretty blush crawls up Riko's neck and cheeks as she daintily accepts the offer. Both smiling, one pleased and one coy, the pair slowly makes their way towards the dance floor. Many pairs of eyes are focused on them, most likely just as taken aback as Yoshiko is. She hasn't expected Dia to ask, or Riko to say yes.

Yet, looking at the two witches swaying to the gentle ballad, it somehow makes sense. They look like a match made in heaven, the way they seem absorbed in each other's presence. There's no need to concern themselves with unwanted attention, for they are already in their own world.

Yoshiko sighs quietly. In a way, she is envious. That's the kind of perfect scene she wants to appear to onlookers, with…

She glances at her friends, seeing how Hanamaru is just as mesmerized while Ruby looks happy for her older sister. Kanan and Mari exchange a quiet high-five, both grinning at how it turns out. Now, all that's left are the two possibly heartbroken duo.

Though disappointed, there is also something else in Chika and You's calm expressions. "Well, it's not like we have a chance against Dia-san anyway." "Yeah, it's not surprising that Riko-chan would accept."

Yoshiko scoffs and roughly pulls at Chika's arm, looping it around You's. The two witches blink at her innocently.

"Go on, go dance already. Don't mope here. Didn't you tell me to enjoy myself earlier? Now, it's your turn, both of you."

"Huh? With Chika-chan?" "With You-chan? Eeeh?"

"Shoo, off you go!" Their disbelief is actually heartrending to see, knowing what they used to be, so Yoshiko assertively pushes the two towards the dance floor. You nervously brushes through her hair while Chika awkwardly plays with her braid. After a few moments, their fingers finally interlace as characteristic smiles blossom upon their visage.

"Welp, just as she said, let's just enjoy ourselves, You-chan!"

"Yeah, wanna try an even more difficult stunt, Chika-chan?"

"Oho, you mean with more brooms and possible aquatic additions too, captain?"

"I knew you can read my mind, partner~ Let's consider this a prep for next year's Yule Ball!"

Like a proud parent, Yoshiko folds her arms and gazes after the pair until they blend in with the crowd. Matchmaking success! Whatever happens after is up to the two, but Yoshiko is confident that something good would bloom from this night.

"Hehe, they look cute together, don't they?" Ruby appears just as happy.

"All thanks to Yohane-sama!" Grinning, Yoshiko grabs a glass of water and pretends it's champagne. "Cheers, everyone!"

As they toast to many things, the clinks of glasses and laughter have re-ignited the rush of adrenaline she felt earlier. If the others could pair off so smoothly, surely it isn't that difficult to ask a certain brunette out for a simple dance?

Alas, as decreed by a fallen angel's misfortune, she misses her chance yet again. Hanamaru suddenly grimaces and excuses herself. "I-I need to go to the washroom zura-!"

Kanan blinks. "Oh, I'll go with y-"

"We need to stay to hear the announcement, for the winning pair of Yule Ball," Mari lightly taps on Yoshiko's shoulder. "If I recall correctly, you've drank a lot tonight, haven't you?"

"Y-Yeah, I did. I'll go with Zuramaru then. Ruby, you coming?" Though a little confused, she does agree it's better to go with company instead of alone. For some reason, Ruby shakes her head and makes a Rubesty pose.

"Huh? But-"

"Just go already, Yoshiko-chan!"

Still not understanding Ruby's encouraging smile, Yoshiko shrugs and hurries after Hanamaru. In contrast to the boisterous Great Hall and its glamorous decor, the corridors appears rather desolate and even sinister. Candles valiantly light up the path as she walks past some of the straggler students and into the courtyard. Her heels crunch quietly on the thin layer of frozen snow, leftover from days before, and her breath comes out in fleeting white puffs.

Hanamaru is standing in the middle of the garden, seemingly entranced by the bright quarter-moon and the glittering stars in the night canvas above.

"Hey, are you okay? I thought you're going to the washroom?" Yoshiko hesitantly approaches her friend.

"Hmm? Yoshiko-chan?" The brunette glances at her before returning her gaze towards the scenery. "I was… I felt quite dizzy earlier, so I thought it was something I ate zura."

"Pff, you did eat a lot…"

Hanamaru furrows her brows, though her expression relaxes a moment later. "Anyway, as it turns out, I just need some fresh air. I feel a lot better now zura."

"That's good at least. With the way you ran out earlier, I thought you were gonna hurl, heh," Yoshiko then slaps herself inwardly. She needs to stop making fun of the brunette or else she'll never be able to get that dance she wants!

Thankfully, Hanamaru seems to be too engrossed in this tranquil atmosphere to get upset. "What do you think, Yoshiko-chan? This feels like an illustration from storybooks zura. Isn't it beautiful?"

Yoshiko has always found nature to be otherworldly, an abstract concept to be admired and nothing more. The most she can do is immerse herself in the peace that nature offers. Yes, the icy snow appears to blanket the ground and any vegetation in an artistic manner. Yes, the cloudless sky allows the viewer to search among the constellations for possible shooting stars. Yes, the night breeze, while frigid, is also fresh and cleansing.

She glances at the smiling brunette by her side, savoring how the moonlight gently envelopes her form. "Yeah, beautiful."

"Right?" Hanamaru remains oblivious of her companion's gaze as she spreads her arms. "Sometimes I still can't believe it, being here in the world of magic and being able to use magic."

"Uh-huh, I'm with you on that. Hogwarts is… amazing." Yoshiko reaches out and gingerly takes hold of Hanamaru's hands, turning the shorter girl towards her.

Hogwarts never fails to take her breath away even though she has been here half a year already. From time to time, she would find herself admiring her surroundings, whether it is the Aviary, the towers, the forest, or even her own Dormitory. The ancient and austere magical presence makes her humble, makes her feel so incredibly tiny and insignificant.

But that was the same back in the Muggle world, wasn't it? She was just one of the many faces that passed by the shops, walked down the streets, and simply trudged through each day. She was unable to accomplish anything meaningful, and that had depressed her even though she carefully buried such feeling.

And so, this is the one difference between here and the Muggle world. Here at Hogwarts, she is given the ability to make a difference in people's lives and even her own, no matter how little it seems at first.

The adrenaline from before has calmed down to something soothing, like whispers of encouragement from Lady Luck herself.

"Well then, allow me to make this special scene even more fairytale-like."

"Zura?!"

Yoshiko gallantly tugs her companion against her, slipping her arm around the latter's waist. Due to the proximity, the shorter girl could only nestle her head against the crook of Yoshiko's neck.

"Dance with me, Hanamaru."

The brunette makes an incoherent mumble, her ears reddening. Yoshiko could feel Hanamaru's heartbeat against her, so she's certain that the latter could feel hers as well. Though embarrassed, she's also elated to have finally taken this step. Furthermore, unlike her previous experiences, she has not stepped on her partner's foot, has not lost her wits from unexpected movements, and has not carelessly taken control of the dance with her own style.

No, this is a simple slide and glide dance where the pair sways along the melody. The courtyard may be silent, but Yoshiko can clearly hear the music in her pounding heart.

"Y-Yoshiko-chan, you know how to waltz zura-?"

"Heh, the great Yohane learns fast. You're not bad yourself either."

"... I-I'm just following your lead," Hanamaru mutters shyly, leaning into their semi-embrace even more. Yoshiko stiffens and inadvertently stops the dance, with both of her arms wrapped around Hanamaru's waist to steady her.

Neither move from their position, enthralled by this mysterious ambience that encompassed them.

"So, pretty good year so far I'd say. We got to come here, learn magic-"

"- and I got reunited with you, and we've gained so many good friends zura."

"Right. Fantastic banquet, isn't it?"

"It is. Everything about today is… well, it's been magical zura."

Yoshiko nervously pulls away just a little so she could look at Hanamaru. The brunette's flushed cheeks probably mirror her own, encouraging her to do what her heart yearns.

"The perfect way to end the perfect night."

She leans down and smooches Hanamaru's cheek before backing away. The warmth and softness of the brunette's skin lingers on her lips, so tantalizing that she is tempted to kiss her again.

Should she push her luck? Is this too much?

Blushing, Hanamaru appears shell-shocked, staring at Yoshiko with wide, innocent eyes. Though mortified, Yoshiko returns the gaze earnestly to show that she isn't fooling around.

Hanamaru swallows hard, glancing to the right and then to the left while her arms remain loosely wrapped around Yoshiko's waist. As if making up her mind, she places one hand on the taller girl's shoulder and tiptoes.

Their lips meet chastely, once and again.

"Merry Christmas."

[myimmortaldiaries]

Chapter 15.

I left the dorm an hour before any classes started that morning.

Ebony was already gone when I got up. I think she had snuck out when it was still dark to hang out with Ember--what a shocker.

A melancholy feeling had come over me. I think I had been disheartened that Ebony was still hanging with someone like Ember and immediately forgotten our brief bonding conversation.

Our school had a setup with an external youth counselling service, but for moral crises and religious questions you could go to Rabbi Pinehall at any time.

“Hi Ezra,” I said politely. “Are you okay to talk?”

“Hello Ivory,” he said warmly. He made an effort to learn as many student names as possible. “Yes, come on in.”

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

I got right into it: “My sister. She’s at this school too now.”

“Ah... Ebony, correct? The one with the black hair.”

“The one with black hair, black makeup, black soul, yes,” I agreed.

“Oh, I’m sensing some rivalry between sisters,” he joked.

“Not rivalry,” I assured him. “Concern. She’s hanging out with that emo girl, Ember. They’ve both already started playing hooky and syllabus isn’t even over.”

“That is a concern,” he agreed. “My question for you: do you think your sister is your responsibility?”

“I mean, yeah?”

“No,” I widened my eyes. “Your job is to love and support your sister in the ways you can, you are not in a position to control her. The school will do what we can for her and your parents can always be brought-in, but you need to priorities your education and not fret about hers. The faculty is here for a reason.”

“Thanks Rabbi,” I said politely, but I was unconvinced. Sisters looked after each other... no matter how shitty one of the sisters was.

I left Rabbi Pinehall’s office still anxious, but I felt better that nobody was gonna put responsibility on me for Ebony’s truancy

I decided to take my mind of things by joining a close classmate of mine in fine art given I had that first. Asia could be guaranteed to show up early because she wanted to use the easel before there became a queue for them.

She was not the kind of girl I’d hang out with outside of school. She was one of those art hoe hipster girls, but she was a good class buddy.

“Can I say something,” Asia asked after minutes of silent painting.

“Hit me.”

“You look nothing like your sister.”

I laughed.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.

[newstfionline]

‘Like Being in Prison with a Salary’: The Secret World of the Shipping Industry

Longreads, Jan. 21, 2017

The following is the opening chapter of Rose George’s new book, Ninety Percent of Everything

Friday. No sensible sailor goes to sea on the day of the Crucifixion or the journey will be followed by ill-will and malice. So here I am on a Friday in June, looking up at a giant ship that will carry me from this southern English port of Felixstowe to Singapore, for five weeks and 9,288 nautical miles through the pillars of Hercules, pirate waters, and weather. I stop at the bottom of the ship’s gangway, waiting for an escort and stilled and awed by the immensity of this thing, much of her the color of a summer-day sky, so blue; her bottom is painted dull red, her name--Maersk Kendal--written large on her side.

There is such busyness around me. Everything in a modern container port is enormous, overwhelming, crushing. Kendal, of course, but also the thundering trucks, the giant boxes in many colors, the massive gantry cranes that straddle the quay, reaching up ten stories and over to ships that stretch three football pitches in length. There are hardly any humans to be seen. When the journalist Henry Mayhew visited London’s docks in 1849, he found “decayed and bankrupt master butchers, master bakers, publicans, grocers, old soldiers, old sailors, Polish refugees, broken-down gentlemen, discharged lawyers’ clerks, suspended Government clerks, almsmen, pensioners, servants, thieves.” They have long since gone. This is a Terminator terminal, a place where humans are hidden in crane or truck cabs, where everything is clamorous machines.

It took me three train journeys to reach Felixstowe from my northern English home. On one train, where no seats were to be had, I swayed in the vestibule with two men wearing the uniform of a rail freight company. I’m about to leave on a freighter, I said, but a ship. They looked bewildered. A ship? they said. “Why on earth do you want to go to sea?”

Why on earth.

I am an islander who has never been maritime. I don’t sail or dive. I swim, although not in terrifying oceans. But standing here in the noise and industry, looking up almost two hundred feet--higher than Niagara Falls--to the top of Kendal, I feel the giddiness of a Christmas morning child. Some of this is the rush of escape. Some is the pull of the sea. And some comes from the knowledge that I am about to embark to a place and space that is usually off-limits and hidden. The public is not allowed on a ship like this, nor even on the dock. There are no ordinary citizens to witness the workings of an industry that is one of the most fundamental to their daily existence. These ships and boxes belong to a business that feeds, clothes, warms, and supplies us. They have fueled if not created globalization. They are the reason behind your cheap T-shirt and reasonably priced television.

But who looks behind a television now and sees the ship that brought it? Who cares about the men who steered your breakfast cereal through winter storms? How ironic that the more ships have grown in size and consequence, the less space they take up in our imagination. The Maritime Foundation, a charity that promotes seafarer matters, recently made a video called Unreported Ocean. It asked the residents of Southampton, a port city in England, how many goods are transported by sea. The answers were varied but uniformly wrong. They all had the interrogative upswing of the unsure.

“Thirty-five percent?”

“Not a lot?”

The answer is, nearly everything. Sometimes on trains I play a numbers game. A woman listening to headphones: 8. A man reading a book: 15. The child in the stroller: at least 4 including the stroller. The game is to reckon how many of our clothes and possessions and food products have been transported by ship. The beads around the woman’s neck; the man’s iPhone and Japanese-made headphones. Her Sri Lanka–made skirt and blouse; his printed-in-China book. I can always go wider, deeper, and in any direction. The fabric of the seats. The rolling stock. The fuel powering the train. The conductor’s uniform; the coffee in my cup; the fruit in my bag. Definitely the fruit, so frequently shipped in refrigerated containers that it has been given its own temperature. Two degrees Celsius is “chill” but 13 degrees is “banana.”

Trade carried by sea has grown fourfold since 1970 and is still growing. In 2011, the 360 commercial ports of the United States took in international goods worth $1.73 trillion, or eighty times the value of all U.S. trade in 1960. There are more than one hundred thousand ships at sea carrying all the solids, liquids, and gases that we need to live. Only six thousand are container vessels like Kendal, but they make up for this small proportion by their dizzying capacity. The biggest container ship can carry fifteen thousand boxes. It can hold 746 million bananas, one for every European on one ship. If the containers of Maersk alone were lined up, they would stretch eleven thousand miles or nearly halfway around the planet. If they were stacked instead, they would be fifteen hundred miles high, 7,530 Eiffel Towers. If Kendal discharged her containers onto trucks, the line of traffic would be sixty miles long.

Trade has always traveled and the world has always traded. Ours, though, is the era of extreme interdependence. Hardly any nation is now self-sufficient. In 2011, the United Kingdom shipped in half of its gas. The United States relies on ships to bring in two thirds of its oil supplies. Every day, thirty-eight million tons of crude oil sets off by sea somewhere, although you may not notice it. As in Los Angeles, New York, and other port cities, London has moved its working docks out of the city, away from residents. Ships are bigger now and need deeper harbors, so they call at Newark or Tilbury or Felixstowe, not Liverpool or South Street. Security concerns have hidden ports further, behind barbed wire and badge wearing and keep out signs. To reach this quayside in Felixstowe, I had to pass through several gatekeepers and passport controllers, and past radiation-detecting gates often triggered by naturally radioactive cargo such as cat litter and broccoli.

It is harder to wander into the world of shipping, now, so people don’t. The chief of the British navy--who is known as the First Sea Lord, although the army chief is not a Land Lord--says we suffer from “sea blindness” now. We travel by cheap flights, not ocean liners. The sea is a distance to be flown over, a downward backdrop between takeoff and landing, a blue expanse that soothes on the moving flight map as the plane jerks over it. It is for leisure and beaches and fish and chips, not for use or work. Perhaps we believe that everything travels by air, or magically and instantaneously like information (which is actually anchored by cables on the seabed), not by hefty ships that travel more slowly than senior citizens drive.

You could trace the flight of the ocean from our consciousness in the pages of great newspapers. Fifty years ago, the shipping news was news. Cargo departures were reported daily. Now the most necessary business on the planet has mostly been shunted into the pages of specialized trade papers such as Lloyd’s List and the Journal of Commerce, fine publications but out of the reach of most, when an annual subscription to Lloyd’s List costs more than $2,000 a year. In 1965, shipping was so central to daily life in London that when Winston Churchill’s funeral barge left Tower Pier to travel up the Thames, it embarked in front of dock cranes that dipped their jibs, movingly, with respect. The cranes are gone now or immobile, garden furniture for wharves that house costly apartments or indifferent restaurants.

Humans have sent goods by water for four thousand years. In the fifteenth century BC, Queen Hatshepsut of Egypt sent a fleet to the Land of Punt and brought back panther skins and ebony, frankincense and dancing pygmies. Perhaps Hatshepsut counts as the first shipping tycoon, before the Romans, Phoenicians, and Greeks took over (she was certainly the only Egyptian queen who preferred to be called king). Shipping history is full of such treats and treasures. Cardamom, silk, ginger, and gold, ivory and saffron. The Routes of Spice, Tea, and Salt, of Amber and Incense. There were trade winds, sailor towns and sails, chaos and color. Now there are freight routes, turnarounds, and boxes, and the cool mechanics of modern industry, but there is still intrigue and fortune. Maersk ships travel regular routes named Boomerang and Yo Yo (from Australia and Yokohama), or the Bossa Nova and Samba around South America. There are wealthy tycoons still, Norse, Greek, and Danish, belonging to family companies who maintain a level of privacy that makes a Swiss banker seem verbose. Publicly listed shipping companies are still a minority. Even shipping people admit that their industry is clubby, insular, difficult. In this business, it is considered normal that the official Greek shipowners’ association refuses to say how many members it has, because it can.

Maersk is different. It must be, because it is letting me onto a working ship, usually barred to ordinary citizens. Even Maersk officers are no longer permitted to take family members to sea because of concerns about safety from pirates. But Maersk is known for risks, at least in the places where its name is known at all, which is in shipping and Denmark. I find Maersk fascinating. It is the Coca-Cola of freight with none of the fame. Its parent company A. P. Møller– Maersk is Denmark’s largest company, its sales equal to 20 percent of Denmark’s GDP; its ships use more oil than the entire nation. I like the fact that Maersk is not a household name outside the pages of Lloyd’s List; that it has an online store selling Maersk-branded T-shirts and cookie tins called Stargate, after the company symbol of a seven-point star, white on a background of Maersk Blue, a distinct color that can be created from a Pantone recipe. The star has seven points, goes an employee joke, because they work seven days a week. For much of recent history the company was run by Arnold Maersk McKinney Møller, son of the founder, a pleasingly eccentric patriarch who worked until he died in 2012 at age ninety-eight. Mr. Møller was known for his firm control of his firm; for walking up five flights of stairs to his office, although when he reached ninety-four he allowed his driver to carry his briefcase; for being one of only three commoners to receive Denmark’s Order of the Elephant; and for driving around Copenhagen in a modest car although he was one of the two richest people in Denmark. The other inherited Lego.

Reuters, in a profile of Maersk, describes it as “active primarily in the marine transportation sector.” Behind that “primarily” are multitudes. Founded in 1904 with one ship named Svendborg, Maersk--through its subsidiary Maersk Line--now operates the largest container shipping company in the world, with a fleet of six hundred vessels. It also has the vast and dizzying interests of a global corporation. It is active in 130 countries and has 117,000 employees. It is looking for and drilling for oil and gas in Denmark, Angola, Brazil, Greenland, Qatar, Algeria, Norway, Iraq, the United States, and Kazakhstan. If you have visited Denmark, you have probably shopped in a Maersk-owned supermarket. You can save in a Maersk-owned bank. The list of its companies and subsidiaries is twelve pages long, double columns. Its revenues in 2011 were $60.2 billion, only slightly less than Microsoft’s. Microsoft provides the software that runs computers; Maersk brings us the computers. One is infamous. Somehow the other is mostly invisible.

This is remarkable, given the size of its ambition. Maersk is known for its experiments with economies of scale. Its E class ship (according to an internal classification system) Emma Maersk, built in 2005, excited the industry partly because she could carry at least fifteen thousand containers. Triple-E class ships, expected in 2014, will carry eighteen thousand and be able to fit a full-sized American football field, an ice-hockey arena, and a basketball court in their holds, if they care to. Emma was envied by naval architects and engineers, but her arrival in Felixstowe in December 2006 also caught the public imagination. With her 150 tons of New Zealand lamb and 138,000 tins of cat food, she carried 12,800 MP-3 players, 33,000 cocktail shakers, and 2 million Christmas decorations; she became SS Santa, come to call.

SS Santa demonstrated more than industrial hubris. She also proved how little an ordinary citizen understands about shipping. For two weeks afterward, Felixstowe received calls from people wanting to know if she was still in port. She had come and gone in twenty-four hours. I have met well-meaning men--and too few women--in boardrooms across London and New York who complain about this ignorance. They want a more visible image for an industry that in the UK alone employs 634,900 people, contributes £8.45 billion in taxes, and generates 2 percent of the national economy, more than restaurants, takeaway food, and civil engineering combined, and only just behind the construction industry. They despair that shipping draws attention only with drama and disaster: a cruise ship sinking, or an oil spill and blackened birds. They would like people to know the names of the Wec Vermeer, arrived from Leixões and heading for Rotterdam, or the Zim Genoa, due in from Ashdod, not just Exxon Valdez and Titanic. They provide statistics showing that the dark days of oil spills are over. Between 1972 and 1981, there were 223 spills. Over the last decade there were 63. Each year, a shipping publicist told me, “More oil is poured down the drain by mechanics changing their engine oil than is spilled by the world’s fleet of oil tankers.”

Yet the invisibility is useful, too. There are few industries as defiantly opaque as shipping. Even offshore bankers have not developed a system as intricately elusive as the flag of convenience, under which ships can fly the flag of a state that has nothing to do with its owner, cargo, crew, or route. Look at the backside of boats and you will see home ports of Panama City and Monrovia, not Le Havre or Hamburg, but neither crew nor ship will have ever been to Liberia or Mongolia, a landlocked country that nonetheless has a shipping fleet. For the International Chamber of Shipping, which thinks “flags of convenience” too pejorative a term (it prefers the sanitized “open registries”), there is “nothing inherently wrong” with this system. A former U.S. Coast Guard commander preferred to call it “managed anarchy.”

Danish-owned Kendal has also flagged out, but to the national registry of the United Kingdom. On her monkey deck she flies the Red Ensign, the British maritime Union flag. This makes her a rarity. After the Second World War, the great powers in shipping were Britain and the United States. They had ships and supplied men to sail them. In 1961 the United Kingdom had 142,462 working seafarers. The United States owned 1,268 ships. Now British seafarers number around 24,000. There are fewer than one hundred ocean going U.S.-flagged ships. Only 1 percent of trade at U.S. ports travels on an American-flagged ship, and the U.S. fleet has declined by 82 percent since 1951. Who in western Europe or America now knows a working seafarer? At a nautical seminar held on a tall ship--a proper old sailing vessel--in Glasgow, a tanker captain told a story that got laughs, but it was sad. When online forms offer him drop-down options to describe his career, he selects “shipping” and is then given a choice. DHL or FedEx?

Two men have descended from Kendal to fetch me. They look Asian and exhausted, so they are typical crew. The benefits of flagging out vary according to registry, but there will always be lower taxes, more lenient labor laws, no requirement to pay expensive American or British crews who are protected by unions and legislation. Now the citizens of rich countries own ships--Greece has the most, then Japan and Germany--but they are sailed by the cheap labor of Filipinos, Bangladeshis, Chinese, Indonesians. They are the ones who clean your cruise cabin and work in the engine room, who bring your gas, your soybeans, your perfumes and medicine.

Seafaring can be a good life. And it can go wrong with the speed of a wave. On paper, the seas are tightly controlled. The Dutch scholar Grotius’s 1609 concept of mare liberum still mostly holds: a free sea that belongs to no state but in which each state has some rights. The United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) is known as the umbrella convention. Its 320 articles, excluding annexes, aim to create “a legal order for the seas and oceans which will facilitate international communication, and will promote the peaceful uses of the seas and oceans, the equitable and efficient utilization of their resources, the conservation of their living resources, and the study, protection and preservation of the marine environment.” Nations that have ratified the convention (the United States has not, not liking its deep-sea mining stipulations) have a right to a twelve-mile boundary from their coastline and also to a two-hundred-mile “exclusive economic zone.” Beyond that is the high sea. The International Maritime Organization, a UN agency, has passed dozens of regulations and amendments since the 1940s to regulate ships, crews, and safety, more than most other UN agencies. The International Labour Organization looks out for seafarers’ rights. For boundary disputes there is an International Tribunal on Maritime Law.

But the sea dissolves paper. In practice, the ocean is the world’s wildest place, because of both its fearsome natural danger and how easy it is out there to slip from the boundaries of law and civilization that seem so firm ashore. TV crime dramas now frequently use ports as a visual shorthand for places of criminal, suspicious activity. I don’t know why they don’t just go out to sea. If something goes wrong in international waters, there is no police force or union official to assist. Imagine you have a problem while on a ship. Who do you complain to, when you are employed by a Manila manning agency on a ship owned by an American, flagged by Panama, managed by a Cypriot, in international waters?

Imagine you are a nineteen-year-old South African woman named Akhona Geveza, fresh out of maritime college, the first in your family to reach higher education, the household earner and hope. In January 2010, you go to sea as a deck cadet--an apprentice navigator--on a good ship run by a good company, the Safmarine Kariba. Six months later, your shipmate reports to the captain that you have been raped by the Ukrainian first officer. He summons you and the officer to his cabin the next day. But you don’t turn up, because you are already dead in the sea off Croatia. The Croatian police subsequently concluded Akhona had committed suicide. She had been in a relationship that was “consensual but rough.” An internal inquiry by Safmarine also concluded suicide and found no evidence of harassment or abuse. And that, according to sea law, was all that could be demanded.

Reporters from South Africa’s Sunday Times then interviewed other cadets from the same maritime school. They found two had been made pregnant by senior officers, two male cadets raped, and a widespread atmosphere of intimidation. A female cadet said embarking on a ship was like being dropped in the middle of a game park. “When we arrived,” another said, “we were told that the captain is our god; he can marry you, baptize you, and even bury you without anybody’s permission. We were told that the sea is no-man’s-land and that what happens at sea stays at sea.”

Other workers and migrants have hard lives. But they have phone lines and Internet access, unlike seafarers. They have union representatives, a police force, all the safety nets of society. Even in space, astronauts are always connected to mission control. Only 12 percent of ship crew have freely available Internet access at sea. Two-thirds have no access at all. Cell phones don’t work either. Lawyers who fight for seafarers’ rights describe their clients as moving targets who work in no-man’s-lands. They describe an industry that is global but also uniquely mobile, and difficult to govern, police, or rule. They are careful to say that most owners are scrupulous, but for the unscrupulous ones there is no better place to be than at sea. For the International Transport Workers’ Federation (ITF), a global union representing four million seafarers, the maritime and fishing industries “continue to allow astonishing abuses of human rights of those working in the sector… Seafarers and fishers are routinely made to work in conditions that would not be acceptable in civilized society.” If that sounds like typically combative union rhetoric, ITF will point to, for a start, the $30 million they recovered in 2010 of wages unpaid to seafarers who had earned them, and the year before was the same.

In 1904, the great Norwegian-American seafarer unionist Andrew Furuseth--known as Lincoln of the Sea for his cheekbones and achievements--was threatened with prison for violating an injunction during a strike. “You can throw me in jail,” he responded, “but you can’t give me narrower quarters than, as a seaman, I’ve always lived in; or a coarser food than I’ve always eaten, or make me lonelier than I’ve always been.” More than a century on, seafarers still regularly joke that their job is like being in prison with a salary. That is not accurate. When the academic Erol Kahveci surveyed British prison literature while researching conditions at sea, he found that “the provision of leisure, recreation, religious service and communication facilities are better in U.K. prisons than… on many ships our respondents worked aboard.”

The International Maritime Organization once published a brochure about shipping entitled “A Safe and Friendly Business.” Shipping has certainly become safer, but in this safe and friendly business, at the moment I embark, 544 seafarers are being held hostage by Somali pirates. I try to translate that into other transport industries; 544 bus drivers, or 544 cabdrivers, or nearly two jumbo jets of passengers, mutilated and tortured for years. When thirty-three Chilean miners were trapped underground for sixty-nine days in 2010, there was a media frenzy. Fifteen hundred journalists went to Chile and, even now, the BBC news website maintains a special page on their drama, long after its conclusion. The twenty-four men on MV Iceberg held captive for a thousand days were given no special page and nothing much more than silence and disregard.

The men from Kendal are ready to go. They advise me to hold the gangway rail tightly. I have traveled plenty and strangely on land: to Saddam Hussein’s birthday party in Tikrit, to Bhutanese football matches blessed by Buddhist monks, down sewers and through vast slums in great cities. I look at the gangway, leading up four stories of height, my portal to thirty-nine days at sea, six ports, two oceans, five seas, and the most compellingly foreign environment I’m ever likely to encounter. Lead on, able seamen. I will follow.

From Ninety Percent of Everything, Metropolitan Books, copyright 2013 Rose George.

[naysaltysalmon]

Nay’s Summer Writing Commissions

I am stoked to have the opportunity to pursue a diverse set of ideas by taking commissions this summer. If there is any idea you want to be written, large or small, something you’ve had in your head for ages, or you just want fluffy nonsense with your fav characters, hit me up!

If you need help deciding, I have listed a few of my previous works below:

Gateways To the Heart [commission for Demon Slayer]

Always There [commission for My Hero Academia]

Ebony & Ivory [fic for Seraph of the End]

Can’t You See Me Now? [fic for Blue Exorcist]

Things I Don’t Understand, Chapter 16 [fic for Hunter x Hunter – please heed the content warning]

Closer [fic for Hunter x Hunter]

Shape of You [fic for Bendy and the Ink Machine]

Boundaries [fic for Banana Fish – please heed the content warning]

With Reasonable Prices:

$1 = 100 words

$15 = 1 hour of research/editing

OR $0.50/100 words + $15/1 hour of research/editing if you are a follower and/or have reblogged at least one of my works (found under the tag #nayraider – includes reblogging this post)

Explicit NSFW is + $15 (does not apply to tasteful nudity)

Research/Editing Time (in Hours) Depends On:

If I’m writing for a familiar fandom (listed below)

If I’m writing for a familiar topic (i.e., character ship, story arc, genre, etc.)

If you give me an outline of the idea you want me to write

I will not charge you extra if I incorrectly project how long researching for / editing a commission will take.

Some Fandoms I’m Currently In:

The Legend of Zelda, Fullmetal Alchemist, Blue Exorcist, Black Butler, Star Wars, Hunter x Hunter, Assassin’s Creed, My Hero Academia, Mob Psycho 100, Castlevania, Land of the Lustrous, the Bendy series, Cuphead: Don’t Deal with the Devil, JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Team Ico video games, Banana Fish, Dororo, Demon Slayer, Vinland Saga, and many, many more.

DM me if you’re curious about whether I’m in a fandom you don’t see here!

Rules:

Not many. I will write original ideas, ideas with your OCs, ideas covering questionable topics, in any narrative style, NSFW, gore, angst, fluff – pretty much anything you can think of.

I reserve the right to refuse an order for any reason – but I will write just about anything. Simply ask!

Contact me via Tumblr Ask, chat, or through my email nayru41@gmail.com with any questions, or if you would like to commission me! Thanks in advance! 💖💖💖

[spirit-of-the-void]

Ebony and Ivory MasterList

Some people have issues finding chapters, so I’m gonna link them all here. Should have done this earlier but I am...a dumb horse....

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

I apologize to everyone I’ve wronged for not making this sooner...I should have started at like chapter five. Because I had the worst fucking time finding these chapters, Tumblr is the god damn worst so I can only imagine how hard it makes it for you guys. Forgive me ;-; I’ll add the other chapters as they come out I promise.

[naysaltysalmon]

I’m back!

Upon my return from China, I noticed there were a lot of things weighing me down... that I can just throw the fuck out.

I could expound upon all of these in great detail, but it really would be pointless. And I wouldn’t be able to cover it all anyway. So instead I’ve decided to make a post of every icon I’ve used for my online persona over the years.

The reason for this is... at the end of the program I attended, we had an entire week of silent meditation. We weren’t allowed to talk or communicate with anyone in any way, including gestures, eye contact, or physical touch. So, during this time I had the realization that the stories I’ve been interested in have been my main source of comfort over the years. No person, place, or thing has felt more permanent to me than this.

However, permanence is an illusion, as the Buddhists say (I stayed in a Buddhist monastery in China, in case you’re wondering). My interests have changed over the years -- from the first fandoms I got obsessed with, to my interests now. I may still adore the series that I enjoyed as a child, but definitely not in the same way.

Coming home, I realized... I no longer want to attach my identity to one character or series. That’s why I’ve decided to make this post. I want to reflect on all the egos of my past, on what they have meant to me, so that I can let them go. I’ve been clinging to a folder of them for too long.

To anyone who’s been here since the very start of my blog, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. This is an acknowledgement of my transformation from then until now.

And so:

Breadward Elric. My first Internet icon, which I had for 2 and a half years from May 2011 -- 2013. My blog was originally entirely FMAB content, created in January of 2012, and while this format didn’t last the entire time that I had this icon, Breadward saw me through the majority of my early anime and video game obsessions. He jump-started my personality on the Internet as a fanfic author, a blogger, and an artist. I will never forget him... ;~;

Comrade Führer Tamama. I had this icon for 8 months in early 2013 -- early 2014. What can I say? Tamama’s passionate personality resonated with me, especially when he was finally able to be in control (in the episode this particular screenshot is from). Gotta get those cola oceans pronto!

Yokoso waga tainai e [Welcome to my Womb ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)]. I had a phase during the summer of 2014, okay. But I still love this maniacal snake’s crusty ass, fite me. I admire KagePro immensely for the popularity and development it gave characters in song format. Of course, favorite of those characters was Kuroha, a snake whose only desire was to keep granting wishes so that he could survive. Add a touch of murderous intent and you have the complete package -- I won’t deny he appealed(appeals) to my wild side -- okay moving on.

KeroTama hugge 👀. I had this icon for about 4-6 months in 2014 before the Hunter x Hunter phase hit. God, I shipped them so hard *facepalms* It was funny though, it’s like KagePro hit me like a hurricane during this summer and then I went right back to being KeroTama trash. Amazing.

Softly Smiling Pika. I kept this icon for at least 9-10 months at the end of 2014 -- early 2015, until I found Owari no Seraph. Kurapika was definitely my bae at the start of my HxH phase -- and in many ways he still is. The current arc gives me this sense of nostalgia of being a 15-year-old again, deeply in love but too in denial to see it. Watching him as a young adult, I see how far I’ve come, how I could have ended up... since I believed myself to be most closely alike with Kurapika at the time. And now I know that’s not the case... I remember debating between many other Kurapika icons and finally choosing this one because I dearly wanted to believe I too could find my happiness in the friends around me, even if it seemed all was hopeless behind the scenes.

Yuu babe. I had this icon for 4 months in the middle of 2015, I remember. Yuichiro Hyakuya was an underappreciated dorky genius at the time, much like how Gon is in HxH now, except... Now in the series... *deep sighs* *clenches fist* I still love his piercing citrine eyes and the dynamism of this icon/pose though.

Cuties T^T (MikaYuu edition). Mmm I kept this icon for a while, something like most of 2016, at least 6-8 months, probably more like 9 or 10. Looking back, I still wonder how/why the author was a fucking coward and didn’t make MikaYuu happen. We coulda had it aaallllll...... Anyway, this is when I was writing Ebony & Ivory, my most popular fic to date, so I was reveling in the reputation I gained from that. This icon was me accepting that while I was no longer friends with my best friend from middle school to 11th grade, I would still pursue my own happiness in the perfect relationship that I saw in MikaYuu. *nods* It’s fitting.

Caught Child². I shared this and the next couple of icons with a friend that I met online, who used the Gon equivalent. I think we shared this one for about 3 months of 2016. This is when I became re-obsessed with Hunter x Hunter and realized how much I had changed between 2014 and 2016. It’s an obsession that’s more or less carried onto now, and redefined my adulthood, as I see my progression as I refer back to HxH for guidance to this day.

Content Chompy Boye. I love this icon. I kept this icon for a long time, something like 5-6 months in December 2016 -- mid-2017. The colors of the background contrast with Killua’s white hair, pale skin, and dark muscle shirt... I still used this icon on other websites until just a few days ago (when I most recently changed my icon) because I thought it looked the best backdropped against the format of other websites. I love this scene in the series, though; while (human) Palm is chattering on about her worry that Gon and Killua will be able to defeat Knuckle and Shoot in time, Killua continues to eat without a care in the world. It’s a mood I feel at least once a day, whether while eating or getting a back massage -- as if that ever happens -- 11/10.

Pizza Devil Brat. I like this icon a lot and kept it on a few websites for longer too, but with the way I edited it, the green background becomes a little too headache-inducing if you stare at it too long, so 8/10 -- okay no more out of 10 ratings, this isn’t that kind of post. I believe I kept this icon for about 3-4 months in 2017 and possibly early 2018 as well. From the same scene the previous Kurapika icon came from, this remains one of my favorite scenes in the entire series for its serious undertones over the light happiness that underlies Gon’s, Killua’s, and Kurapika’s (and Leorio’s -- but he’s not in this scene) interactions with each other throughout the series.

Grumpy Gem Gremlin. I was sharing the last three icons with that friend, including this one, with the Phos equivalent (more or less). I think we only kept it for about a month or month and a half in 2017 or beginning of 2018 before switching to the next one. Cinnabar’s desire for a purpose and closeness to others despite her poisonous nature... is definitely something I can understand and relate to.

Sad Gem Child. Damn, I think we’re all still waiting for the day Gormie realizes Aechmea’s a creepy sugar daddy and dropkicks his ass into the ocean where the Admirabilis can decompose his cloudy body like he doesn’t deserve. When will Land of the Lustrous return from the war? I’m still waiting, Ichikawa. Anyway I think we kept this icon for about a month or maybe two in 2018, not long at all.

Gay Childe™. Look, this is one of the gayest scenes in the entire series and it’s right after my favorite episode(s)/scene(s) in the entire series (so far) and it’s not even acknowledged by anyone. Just. Holy Fuck. Anyway I think I kept this icon for about 6-8 months to cap off 2018. And this is where the Big Breakup happened, where my friend decided to choose an icon that deviated from mine, but I kept this icon for a lot longer due to what this scene means to me, placed after/during my favorite episode. ;v;

And finally, BoMH (Blood on My Hands) Pika. I used this icon for 8 months from the start of 2019 until just a few days ago (approx. 8 months). This icon was originally the cover for a Kurapika fic that I started back in 2015 and ended up discontinuing because it was pretty slow-paced, and thus unpopular, which made it become difficult for me to write. But I got all the way up to 97k words before I quit, simply because of the freedom and joy I felt in creating all the OCs that I fit into Kurapika’s journey as he searched for the Kurta eyes after the Yorknew City Arc. Looking back, I’m proud of the planning and commitment that I succeeded in undertaking with this fic -- it was about halfway done by the time I stopped writing it -- and I feel I want to return to this concept one day. Even if the arcs were pretty formulaic at times and, well, boring, I wanted this icon at the start of 2019 to be a new person separate from my recent past matching icons; a representation of my ability to reconnect with my past, but to no longer be afraid of it; to be proud of it, but still recognizing the not-so-good parts, laying it to rest by no longer avoiding it.

My icon now, as I’m sure you can see... is nothing like those I’ve used thus far. I definitely have no intention of moving away from anime or my past. I simply wish to redefine who I am in relation to them, rather than being defined by them.

...I’ve discovered a lot about myself over the past 2 years since college started, more than I ever thought possible. I discovered a lot while in China, too. And I need my online persona to reflect that in every form, as I’ve done every time there was a change.

Thank you all for being with me on this journey: for following me, for reading my posts, for liking my art, for talking with me and blowing up my notifications on every platform...

I’ll be pursuing the next chapter(s) of Human, TIDU, and other works soon. ^.^