#GIL: Individuals/Companions

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

👶 The Doctor's Children – A Surprisingly Crowded Family Tree

The Doctor's family tree is quite confusing, and they've gained a few, whether through biological means, paradoxes, accidental adoption, or being forcefully handed a kid by a machine. Here is a whistlestop tour of the Doctor's children.

📜 The One Everyone Knows: Susan Foreman

The Doctor's most famous (and only consistently acknowledged) child connection is Susan Foreman, their granddaughter, who travelled with the First Doctor.

But where did Susan come from? That depends on which version of the story you believe:

In the simplest version, Susan was the Doctor's biological granddaughter, a fact reinforced by nearly everyone who knew them.

One account states Susan's father was the eldest of thirteen children the Doctor had with a woman named Patience. (Thirteen! The real mystery is how the Doctor ever found time to travel.)

Another version claims Susan was actually the last womb-born child on Gallifrey before the Pythia's Curse and was sent away by the Other (a mysterious figure some believe to be an ancient version of the Doctor).

The Curator later cited Susan's existence as proof that the Doctor had not been "a virgin," reinforcing the idea of a biological lineage.

However, some sources claim Susan was actually Lady Larn, a Gallifreyan contemporary of the Doctor whom he had rescued from civil strife. Meanwhile, the Book of the War suggests "Grandfather" was just an honorary title among Loom-born aristocratic families.

The Fifteenth Doctor recently hinted that he had "not yet" fathered or given birth to one of Susan's parents, strongly implying that time travel played a role in how Susan and the Doctor met in the first place.

And if that wasn't confusing enough, some stories claim Susan was the daughter of a Lord President, while others say her parents ran a concept shop.

🔬 The One Created by a Machine: Jenny

Some children are planned. Some are accidents. And then some are force-grown from your DNA by an alien military machine in the middle of a war zone.

That's how the Tenth Doctor got Jenny, a fully armed and combat-ready daughter created by a progenation machine.

At first, the Doctor refused to acknowledge her as family. Then she immediately died (which, in classic Doctor fashion, was the fastest way to get them emotionally invested). Fortunately, she survived, stole a spaceship, and went off on her own adventures.

👶 The One Who Might Be a Time Paradox: Miranda Dawkins

The Eighth Doctor adopted Miranda Dawkins, a girl with a mysterious past, enormous intelligence, and an uncanny ability to make all the wrong people very nervous.

Turns out, Miranda wasn't just any kid—she was the daughter of the Doctor's own future self, known as the Emperor. Which means the Doctor raised their own daughter from the future.

🌱 The One That Was a Literal Plant: The Sapling

Because why stop at humanoid children?

The Eleventh Doctor and Alice Obiefune ended up accidentally and technically parenting a sentient tree child called The Sapling.

The Sapling, part of a species known as the Planting, could absorb memories. Naturally, spending time with the Doctor meant absorbing some of the strangest experiences in the universe before setting off on its own path.

🌀 The Ones Who Might Have Existed (Or Maybe Not)

The Doctor has made many cryptic comments about having been a parent, but they're frustratingly vague.

The First Doctor confirmed he had children—'sons or daughters… or both'—which is about as helpful as saying 'I own a number of shoes.'

The Eighth Doctor outright admitted to having 'at least one' child, which is refreshingly direct (if still wildly unspecific).

The Ninth and Tenth Doctors both referenced having been a dad, usually while making a dramatic point about loss.

The Twelfth Doctor refused to answer directly, but his incredibly defensive reaction probably says it all.

The Fifteenth Doctor recently hinted that he hasn't yet had children… which raises even more questions.

🏫 So…

How many kids does the Doctor actually have?

Confirmed? At least a few.

Implied? Several more.

Accidental adoptions, paradox children, and weird plant offspring? An alarming number.

For someone who claims to prefer being alone, they sure keep accumulating children... and then forgetting to check in on them.

The real question should be: Doctor, where are your kids?

Whoniverse Facts for Friday by GIL

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[dorothylarouge]

Dorothy's Big List of Comic Book Recs - Marvel Comics Edition

I often get asks about getting into comic books, and how daunting it seems, given the huge back catalog of titles and issues available. I'm here to tell you it doesn't have to be scary! From miniseries that act as good introductions to characters to runs on ongoing titles by individual creators that serve on jumping-on points, there's lots of ways to get into comics without having to have a lot of background knowledge, and I'm going to give you a lot of potential places to start. Please note that this post only covers Marvel Comics; this is a companion to my DC list and I will also have a list for indie comics and smaller companies at some point. Also note that I haven't read everything, and I won't recommend something I haven't read, so a few runs or books some consider must-reads may not be on here. This is based purely on books I have read and enjoy, and that I think are suitable for new readers.

SPIDER-MAN

The Amazing Spider-Man (1963) by Stan Lee, with artists Steve Ditko and John Romita, Sr.: The classic Spider-Man stories which laid the foundation for the character. These stories are filled with the melodrama and pathos that really makes Spider-Man shine, and with two of the greatest artists of the Silver Age on deck, you really can't go wrong. Ditko stays on the book until issue 38, and Lee's run ends at issue 110.

The Amazing Spider-Man (1963) by Gerry Conway, with artists John Romita, Sr., Gil Kane, and Ross Andru: Picking up immediately after the end of Stan Lee's run, Gerry Conway wrote issues 111 to 149. This run includes a number of vital Spider-Man stories, including Spidey's climactic tussle with the Green Goblin and his first brush with the nightmares of cloning.

The Amazing Spider-Man (1963) by Roger Stern: Spanning issues 229 to 252, this brief but memorable run includes several iconic Spider-Man stories and the debut of the Hobgoblin.

The Amazing Spider-Man (1963) by Tom DeFalco and Ron Frenz: DeFalco wrote the book from 253 to 285, and this run included the debut of Silver Sable as well as Spider-Man's black suit.

The Amazing Spider-Man (1963) by J. Michael Straczynski: This should be read in omnibus format as the numbering is a little weird; the run starts during volume 2 of Amazing but the book switched back to volume 1 and original numbering partway through. One of my favorite runs on the book! The creator of Babylon 5 brings Peter Parker into the 21st century, giving him a job as a science teacher and first hinting there might be some destiny at play in how he got his powers. There are a few warts on this run, however, mainly due to editorial mandates: it contains the dreadful "Sins Past" storyline and it ends on the wet fart that is "One More Day."

Peter Parker, the Spectacular Spider-Man (1976) by Bill Mantlo and Al Milgrom: The sister book to Amazing often goes a little overlooked, but this is a great run on it, including one of the best Doctor Octopus stories in Spider-Man history.

Peter Parker, the Spectacular Spider-Man (2017) by Chip Zdarsky: Spectacular was brought back in 2017 with writer Chip Zdarsky at the helm, and it's great. The standout story is probably issue 6, "My Dinner with Jonah," which is one of my favorite Spider-Man issues ever.

Spectacular Spider-Man (1988) by J.M. DeMatteis and Sal Buscema: This run spans issues 178 to 203, and includes Spider-Man's final battle with the second Green Goblin, the standout storyline of the run. DeMatteis also had a turn writing Amazing, but I wouldn't wish the Clone Saga on any new reader.

Spider-Girl (1998) by Tom DeFalco and Ron Frenz: An alternate universe title set in the future and starring the daughter of Peter Parker and Mary Jane, it's great superhero fun featuring everything that made classic Spider-Man great.

Ultimate Spider-Man (2000) by Brian Michael Bendis and Mark Bagley: Another alternate universe book which sought to reintroduce Spider-Man to a new generation. It's a solid book and a good read, but it is very dated to the 2000s for good and for ill.

Ultimate Spider-Man (2023) by Jonathan Hickman: Another alternate-universe take on Spider-Man, this time reimagining him as a family man who gets his powers in his 30s. Whereas most Spider-Man takes start Peter off as a kid with power but no responsibility, this flips the script by having him as an adult with responsibility but no power, as he finds himself drafted into a war against the forces that have taken control of the world.

Miles Morales: Spider-Man (2019) by Saladin Ahmed: Hot off the heels of Into the Spider-Verse, Ahmed's run on Miles' title pushes him forward and secures his place as a leading light of the Marvel Universe, and even gives him his own Clone Saga.

Miles Morales: Spider-Man (2022) by Cody Ziglar: This title is ongoing, but it's a great read that continues the work of carving out Miles' niche in the Marvel Universe and taking him in new directions.

Spider-Man: Life Story (2019) by Chip Zdarsky and Mark Bagley: A thoughtful and heartfelt story that takes Peter Parker on a real-time adventure through the decades, beginning in the 1960s.

Spider-Man 2099 (1992) by Peter David: A cyberpunk romp through a futuristic New York, featuring corporate oppression and intrigue. Miguel O'Hara's best run as Spider-Man.

X-MEN

X-Men (1963) by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby: The initial run of the X-Men lays the groundwork for everything to come, but the book didn't sell well or retain Stan's attention the way Spider-Man or the Fantastic Four could, and he left the book after issue 19. Roy Thomas took over for the rest of the 60s, and there's some good stories in there too, but the real great stuff was still to come.

X-Men by Chris Claremont: MUST be read in omnibus format, because this mammoth run spanned over a decade and a half, including multiple titles - not only the main X-Men book but the New Mutants and the stellar graphic novel "God Loves, Man Kills." THE definitive X-Men run, featuring most of the team's most iconic stories.

New X-Men (2001) by Grant Morrison: Not my favorite work by Morrison, but this is probably the most important run after Claremont. Morrison brings a more militant spirit and a focus on radical activism to the X-Men, and the run opens with a bang - though I have to admit that it closes with two of my least favorite X-Men stories.

X-Men (1991) by Mike Carey: Fun stories featuring an eclectic assortment of characters and interesting team dynamics, but the real treat comes when the book becomes X-Men: Legacy, and a character study on Professor X and his son Legion.

New X-Men (2004): Of course, a classic element of X-Men stories is the school setting, and this book brings that concept into the 2000s, focusing on students at the Xavier School and their interpersonal drama. Degrassi with superpowers.

Wolverine and the X-Men (2011) by Jason Aaron: Another school-set book, this one focuses on Wolverine's efforts to run a school filled with mutant teenagers.

X-Factor (1986) by Louise and Walter Simonson: A very 80s team book focusing on the original X-Men, reconnecting after several years apart, and the conflicts they get drawn into, often the result of their own mistakes. Also features the debut of Apocalypse, one of the best X-villains.

X-Factor (1986) by Peter David: After David took over the book, the focus of X-Factor was shifted from being the original X-Men to an oddball group of government-sanctioned mutants. This book also helped flesh out the character of Mystique.

X-Factor (2006) by Peter David: X-Factor returned under David in the 2000s, this time as a detective agency specializing in cases involving mutants. There's a cynical edge to this book which was common in the 2000s but it really works for this title.

X-Force (1991) issues 116 to 129 and X-Statix by Peter Milligan and Mike Allred: Allred's art is worth the price of admission. Imagine a team where every character is expendable, most of them are liable to die in really nasty ways, and they all have weird and uncomfortable powers. That's X-Statix.

Ultimate X-Men (2024) by Peach Momoko: Probably my favorite of the new Ultimate line. Very different vibes to basically any other X-Men book - this one is essentially a horror manga in the vein of Junji Ito or Shigeru Mizuki.

THE HULK

Hulk: Gray by Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale: A moody and gorgeously-illustrated take on the Hulk's earliest days.

The Incredible Hulk (1962) by Bill Mantlo and Sal Buscema: Buscema is one of the best Hulk artists of all time, and while Mantlo's writing can be hit or miss, when he hits he really hits, as in issue 312, one of the best Hulk issues ever written.

The Incredible Hulk (1962) by Peter David: David's run is considered the definitive Hulk run, and for good reason. It is best read in omnibus format because it is very long, and packs a lot into that long tenure. Bruce Banner's Joe Fixit alter debuts here, as does his Professor persona.

The Incredible Hulk (2000) by Greg Pak: This run includes the Planet Hulk storyline! Exiled from Earth, the Hulk rises to power as a warlord on a hostile alien world. Really scratches that Conan the Barbarian itch.

The Indestructible Hulk (2013): A different take on the Hulk, this time recasting him as an agent of SHIELD with all the adventures and difficulties that brings.

The Immortal Hulk (2018) by Al Ewing: Here we see the difference between "definitive" and "best." While David's run is the definitive Hulk run, for my money Immortal Hulk is the best. It is both a gnarly piece of body horror and a deeply thoughtful title that muses on the nature of anger, of suffering, and of pain, drawing heavily on Kabbalistic imagery and themes.

She-Hulk (2004 and 2005) by Dan Slott: An offbeat workplace comedy set in a law office specializing in cases involving superhumans. The best She-Hulk run in my book, not least because it does not involve John Byrne.

DAREDEVIL AND STREET LEVEL STUFF

Daredevil (1964) by Frank Miller: Probably the definitive Daredevil run, and the only time I've been able to stand Frank Miller, this run features some great art as well as some of the most important Daredevil stories in the character's history.

Daredevil (1964) by Ann Nocenti: Carries on from the Miller run and takes the character of Daredevil, his supporting cast, and Hell's Kitchen in some totally new directions. Includes the story of the excellent villain Typhoid Mary.

Daredevil (1998) by Brian Michael Bendis: A gritty, very 2000s take on Daredevil, Bendis' strengths as a writer are on full display during this run, with grungy art to match.

Daredevil (2011 and 2014) by Mark Waid: A much lighter and more superhero-y run than Daredevil often gets, this excellent run features Matt going up against criminal syndicates, old enemies coming back for revenge, and more.

Hawkeye (2012) by Matt Fraction: Easily the best book Hawkeye has ever had. Spectacular art and excellent scripting featuring both Clint Barton and Kate Bishop in a firmly street-level narrative focusing on threats to the local community.

The Punisher (2011) by Greg Rucka: For my money the best the Punisher (whom I usually don't like) has ever been. A genuinely thoughtful examination of Frank Castle as a human. Many people swear by the Garth Ennis run on the character, but to me this is the definitive Punisher run.

Mockingbird (2016) by Chelsea Cain: A short but fun series focusing on Mockingbird in a number of spy thriller scenarios.

Alias (2001) by Brian Michael Bendis: A mature mystery series starring a former superheroine. It goes into some gnarly territory but it really displays Bendis' strengths in writing street-level, grounded stories within the Marvel Universe.

Moon Knight (1980) by Doug Moench: Moon Knight fans will be mad that this is the only run I have on this list but it's the only one I've read! It's a fantastic read though.

Ms. Marvel (2014 and 2016) by G. Willow Wilson: There's a reason that Kamala Khan has been one of Marvel's biggest breakout characters in recent history, and it all starts in this initial run of comics. Great art and fantastic scripts by Wilson.

Runaways (2004 and 2005) by Brian K. Vaughan: One of my favorite setups in a comic, with a group of teenagers learning that their parents are actually a supervillainous cabal and running away from home in response. Great teen drama with a superpowered twist. The second volume also has a run by Joss Whedon (bear with me) that's also pretty good.

TEAMS AND TEAM-UPS

Fantastic Four (1961) by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby: One of the greatest comic books ever written. Both Lee and Kirby poured their heart and soul into these early adventures, and you can really tell. The first Galactus story is still one of my favorites. Essential reading.

Fantastic Four (1998) by Mark Waid and Mike Wieringo: Probably my favorite Fantastic Four run, with a great focus on Doctor Doom, Mister Fantastic, and Ben Grimm.

Fantastic Four (2022) by Ryan North: The current FF run, this one goes all-out on wacky science fiction adventure, with most stories only taking one or two issues to tell. Bite-size superhero fun, with fantastic characterization. Made me stan Alicia Masters.

The Avengers (1963) by Roy Thomas: The initial run of the Avengers by Lee, Kirby, and Heck, is serviceable, but the team came into their own under Roy Thomas, who introduced mainstays of the team like Vision and Black Panther to the roster, in this run which also incldues the classic "Kree-Skrull War" storyline. Throw in art by legends like John Buscema, Sal Buscema, and Neal Adams, and you've got a great run to get into the Avengers with.

The Avengers (1963) by Roger Stern: Another great Avengers run, this one solidified a roster for the team which included members like Hercules, Black Knight, and the best Captain Marvel aka Monica Rambeau, and includes the best "Avengers Mansion is attacked" story.

The Avengers (1997) by Kurt Buseik and George Perez: A creative dream team relaunched the Avengers in the late 90s to fantastic effect, with several excellent storylines and gorgeous art. This is, for my money, the definitive Avengers run.

Young Avengers (2013) by Kieron Gillan: The Young Avengers have mostly been supplanted as Marvel's premiere team of teenage superheroes, but this is their best book in my view, featuring the team's best roster and some of their best stories.

Champions (2016) by Mark Waid and Humberto Ramos: A great teen team book, the Champions have basically replaced the Young Avengers in no small part due to this run. Makes me yearn for a Waid-penned Teen Titans ongoing.

Defenders (1972): I'm just gonna recommend the whole comic. If you want off-beat and unusual superhero team dynamics and out-there storytelling, this is a good bet. Special attention should go to Steve Gerber's run around issue 20 or so.

MAGIC MARVEL

Doctor Strange: The Oath (2006) by Brian K. Vaughn and Marcos Martin: A good entry point to Doctor Strange and his weird world, featuring some really great art.

Strange Tales (1951) by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko: Never has Steve Ditko's art been better than in those first Doctor Strange stories, weird and wonderful and surreal.

Journey Into Mystery (1951) and Thor (1966) by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby: The first Thor stories are not only great, they feature Kirby's excellent Tales of Asgard backups which he would eventually develop into his Fourth World at DC.

Thor by Jason Aaron: Read in omnibus format. A true epic worthy of Norse legend. Includes some all-time great Thor stories.

The Immortal Thor (2023) by Al Ewing: The current Thor run, with a strong focus on mythology and how stories are constructed and passed down across the years.

Scarlet Witch (2023 and 2024) by Steve Orlando: A fun ongoing that finally made Wanda Maximoff a worthy headliner in Marvel, featuring her protecting a small town from magical threats.

COSMIC MARVEL

Silver Surfer (1968) by Stan Lee and John Buscema: One of my favorite comics as a teenager, this book combines space opera and melodrama to great effect.

Silver Surfer (1987) by Steve Englehart, Jim Starlin, and Ron Marz: The definitive Silver Surfer run. Includes some excellent stories, including some from the master of cosmic Marvel, Jim Starlin.

Silver Surfer (1988) by Stan Lee and Moebius: Must be read for the art alone.

Guardians of the Galaxy (2008) by Dan Abnett and Andy Lanning: This is where the MCU team originated, and it's still the best run the Guardians have ever had.

Quasar (1989) by Mark Gruenwald: Has the energy of a Silver Age comic with none of the baggage. Definition of a hidden gem.

Nova (2007) by San Abnett and Andy Lanning: Probably the definitive Nova run? Spun out of Annihilation which as an event comic I haven't included here but is still a great read.

Eternals (1976) by Jack Kirby: It's kind of Fourth World backwash, but it's Kirby doing wacky cosmic stuff so you know it's a good time.

AND THE REST

Power Pack (1984): What if a bunch of kids got superpowers? No, not teenagers, little kids? It's a thoroughly 1980s premise and one that shines best in the original series from that era.

Captain America (2005, 2011) by Ed Brubaker: A high-octane action-spy thriller which reintroduced Bucky and made him Cap for a while. The definitive modern Captain America run.

2001: A Space Odyssey (1976): A short adaptation of the novel and film, and then like 10 issues of wacky Kirby sci-fi. Really great hidden gem.

Black Panther (1998) by Christopher Priest: The definitive Black Panther run, that set the stage for everything to follow.

Black Panther (2016) by Ta-Nehisi Coates: Another great run exploring the nature of power. Many comic fans do not like it because they are philistines.

Vision (2015) by Tom King and Gabriel Hernandez Walla: Tom King is hit or miss, but this book is great, with the Vision building a family - of a kind - for himself.

[fjotla-vithir]

VierApril Day 9: Lounge (switched with Day 10)

Rating: T

Read below the cut!

Fjölla sipped lazily on a whiskey over ice, sitting alone at a long, black marble bar while he gazed around the many patrons. The lights were dim to set the right mood and in the background a band of well-dressed individuals stood on a nearby stage while they played smooth jazz. The lounge had many leather seats scattered about the main room which were all mostly filled with customers chatting and going about their nights. Fjölla loved to people-watch, got a real kick out of eavesdropping on conversations full of drama or discreetly staring as bargoers passed by. None paid him much mind and those who did kept their distance, knowing full well not to cross this particular man. Tonight, he was only enjoying his own company, the thought of business far from his mind.

One couple sitting behind him at a table was arguing over something or another, the woman speaking in a hushed whisper that was very heated and stern but it wasn’t quiet enough that the Don couldn’t understand what was being said.

“I really need you to consult me before making large purchases like this!” the woman exclaimed quietly.

“But the ring was for you! I could only think of you when I saw it, and there was only one!” her companion snapped back.

“I don’t need jewelry like this! It’s too much, Sylas.”

“If I didn’t buy it when I did, someone else would’ve taken it. And no one but you deserves to wear such a beautiful piece!”

Fjölla chuckled to himself, signaling to his bartender for a refill, then sparking up a small blunt to smoke while he waited for his beverage. Off to the left on the other side of the lounge, he picked up on another conversation happening amongst a small group of friends.

“They say it makes you higher than any drug on the market,” said one.

“Yea, I’ve heard that is sends you to the fucking moon with how strong it is,” chimed in another.

“That sounds dangerous,” came the voice of one of the others. “Like it might come with some really bad side effects.”

“Not so much side effects …” returned the first. “But people get really addicted really quick, I hear …”

They could only be discussing something that he was pushing out into society, and couldn’t help but grin maliciously at the prospect of this group of young people falling victim to his empire. More money flowing in from three new sources who would continuously feed him their Gil until they were fresh out - which would lead them to a life of petty crimes so they might keep their addictions going. Looking off to the left at the end of the bar, the Don caught sight of two Mi’qo boys kissing feverishly, standing up before long and departing the establishment hand-in-hand. It was nice to see such young love blossoming in a bar, where both parties were probably well beyond inebriated to help with their fun night. Fjölla thought briefly of maybe joining them, but then his ears picked up on more conversation happening around the lounge. His second whiskey came, and he spent the rest of the night by himself drinking and smoking in this high-end lounge.

[fellowshiphq]

M A P L E

name: utp

age: 25+

gender: utp

pronouns: utp

species: human

kingdom: gil galea

commitment level: 2

proficient skills: performance & persuasion

fc recs: joel fry, amar chadha-patel, tony revlori

A B O U T

maple has been a ward of the royals for nearly their entire life. their birth family was killed and they had no one else to turn to. so they were chosen to be the constant companion of the royal heir, magnolia. they've never been properly a part of the royal family, they are regarded more like a jester or possession; their sole purpose is to keep the heir entertained. they've grown into an impression bard and troubadour but they yearn to make a name for themselves as an individual.

S P E C I A L - S K I L L S

maple has made themselves useful in the castle by being a desirable presence. they are a talented sweet-talker and have a special skill for flattery that works on upper-class citizens in particular. but their foremost skill is performance. they are talented with the lute and panpipes. they are also a good dancer and singer. their storytelling and inspirational speech skills are nothing to scoff at either. whenever there is a need for festitivty, maple is the one to call upon.

S T A T S

dexterity: +1

strength: +1

charisma: +2

wisdom: -2

intelligence: -2

constitution: +3

C O N N E C T I O N S

MAGNOLIA - magnolia has been your closest friend since you learned how to talk. they were always there to listen. even though you know they never had any obligation to treat you as their equal, they always have. you try to make their life as happy and carefree as possible, although that'd been growing harder with each passing year. as their responsibilities and burdens grow, so does your feeling of uselessness and ineptitude. PINE - you seem to be the only person to recognize them so far. and you can assume that if the hero of legend you've read and sung about so many times is keeping their identity a secret, the they have good reason to do so. but the information burns in you and you so badly want to tell someone about it or even confront pine. but you're terrified of incurring their wrath. if you make an enemy of pine you surely won't live long. ELM - elm is a good friend and mentor. they always join you in taking life a little less seriously than the other residents of the castle. they have so many fascinating stories to tell and you are eager to listen. sometimes they're a little too rough with you and keep trying to teach you how to fight, saying that if you don't learn you'll be killed. but you've insisted time and time again that you don't need combat prowess.

this character is currently OPEN. they are written by TBD.

Post

[honeyleesblog]

June 26 ZODIAC

Horoscope and character for those brought into the world on June 26 His character is very one of a kind, frequently extremely unique. They can seldom be found among standard individuals or managing notable examinations. They can arrive at an elevated degree of scholarly turn of events and surpass their current circumstance, which could make an extraordinary hole between others. One way or another, they are pondering, significant individuals, enamored with reflections or serious investigations. In spite of the fact that his keenness is extraordinarily sharp, his close to home life is serious areas of strength for exceptionally. Along these lines, their personality could mislead them. They can be superb associates and companions. They are extremely delicate, very economical, persisting and aggressive individuals. They normally have a decent ear for music. They need to appreciate everything on the planet and they would rather not quit any pretense of anything. In spite of their scholarly capacities, they express materialistic propensities. Simultaneously, their tendency is fretful and unusual, which frequently makes them fall into limits and get carried away. They are equipped for overabundances because of solid motivations and feelings, which could jeopardize them of spots of destiny. They are sexy, and their contemplations frequently envelop desire. They seek after the fulfillment of their sexy cravings, which causes them choppiness or turns. Zodiac sign for those brought into the world on June 26 On the off chance that your birthday is June 26, your zodiac sign is Disease June 26 - character and character character: dauntless, mindful, quiet, nervy, contemptuous, crabby calling: primary architect, review or, fashioner colors: beige, yellow, green stone: quartz creature: turtle plant: Boxwood bush fortunate numbers: 4,29,36,40,47,59 very fortunate number: 17 June 26 ZODIAC 

 Mexico: Educator's Day Madagascar: Freedom Day Joined Countries: Global Day to Battle Chronic drug use and Unlawful Dealing. Joined Countries: Global Day On the side of Casualties of Torment. Spain: Zarauz (Guipდºzcoa) - Patronal gala of San Pelayo.? Spain: Castro Urdiales (Cantabria) - Patronal gala of San Pelayo. June 26 Superstar birthday celebrations. Who was conceived that very day as you? 1904: Peter Lorre, Hungarian-American entertainer (d. 1964). 1905: Lynd Ward, American author and artist (d. 1985). 1908: Salvador Allende, Chilean president somewhere in the range of 1970 and 1973 (d. 1973). 1908: Estrellita Castro, Spanish entertainer and vocalist (d. 1983). 1913: Aimდ© Cდ©saire, French artist and legislator (d. 2008). 1913: Maurice Wilkes, English PC scientist (d. 2010). 1914: Laurie Lee, English author (d. 1997). 1914: Wolfgang Windgassen, German tenor (d. 1974). 1915: George Haigh, English soccer player and mentor. 1916: Giuseppe Taddei, Italian baritone (d. 2010). 1922: Eleanor Parker, American entertainer (d. 2013). 1924: Antonio Pinilla Sდ¡nchez-Concha, Peruvian attorney and savant (f. 2006). 1924: Josდ© Ignacio San Martდ­n, Spanish military (d. 2004). 1925: Wolfgang Unzicker, German chess player (d. 2006). 1926: Josდ© Vidal-Beneyto, Spanish logician, humanist and political specialist (d. 2010). 1926: Fernando Monckeberg Barros, Chilean specialist. 1927: Juan Velarde Fuertes, Spanish financial specialist. 1930: Kenneth Kennedy, American anthropologist. 1931: Juan Carlos Galvდ¡n, Argentine entertainer (d. 2015). 1933: Claudio Abbado, Italian guide and performer (d. 2014). 1933: Carlos Mendo, Spanish writer (d. 2010). 1935: Dwight York, strict bigot and African-American pedophile. 1936: Hal Greer, American ball player. 1937: Robert Coleman Richardson, American physicist, Nobel laureate in material science in 1996. 1940: Vittorio Storaro, Italian cinematographer. 1942: Gilberto Gil, Brazilian artist musician and legislator, Pastor of Culture. 1943: Milton Juica, Chilean legal adviser and judge. 1946: Virgilio Zapatero Gდ³mez, Spanish government official. 1954: Luis Arconada, soccer goalkeeper. 1954: Ricardo Chiqui Pereyra, Argentine tango artist. 1955: Mick Jones, English artist, of the band The Conflict. 1956: Chris Isaak, American artist and entertainer. 1957: Patty Smyth, American artist. 1958: Juan Luis Londono, Colombian market analyst, columnist and lawmaker (f. 2003). 1959: Francis Magee, Irish entertainer 1961: Greg Lemond, American cyclist. 1968: Isshin Chiba, Japanese voice entertainer. 1968: Paolo Maldini, Italian footballer. 1969: Colin Greenwood, English artist, of the band Radiohead. 1971: Max Biaggi, Italian cruiser racer. 1971: Victoria Onetto, Argentine entertainer. 1972: Leonardo De Cecco, Argentine artist, of the band Attaque 77. 1972: Garou, Canadian artist. 1973: Jussi Sydდ¤nmaa, Finnish artist, of the Lordi band. 1974: Derek Jeter, American baseball player. 1977: Tite Kubo, Japanese mangaka. 1977: Jorge Poza, entertainer, jokester and Mexican performer. 1977: Marco Corleone, American expert grappler. 1979: Luis Alberto Gonzდ¡lez, Venezuelan baseball player. 1979: Ryan Tedder, American artist, musician and maker, of the band OneRepublic. 1980: Jason Schwartzman, American entertainer. 1980: Michael Vick, American football player. 1980: Hamდ­lton, Brazilian footballer naturalized Togolese. 1981: Agustდ­n Oriდ³n, Argentine soccer player. 1981: Paolo Cannavaro, Italian footballer. 1984: Luis Hernდ¡ndez, Venezuelan baseball player. 1984: Francisco Javier Tarantino Uriarte, Spanish footballer. 1984: Aubrey Square, American entertainer. 1985: Chiquis Rivera, artist, lyricist, money manager and music and TV maker, American. 1986: Francisco Jimდ©nez Tejada, Spanish footballer. 1986: Gastდ³n Cellerino, Argentine soccer player. 1987: Samir Nasri, French footballer. 1992: Joel Campbell, Costa Rican soccer player. 1992: Jennette McCurdy, American entertainer, musician and artist. 1993: Ariana Grande, American entertainer, artist and musician. 2005: Alejandra de Orange-Nassau, Dutch blue-blood.

[voidtouched-blue]

Forgotten-contract--prior

“Ah-ah No, tell me, how much do you cost?” Silvaire’s eyes narrowed. “Her services don’t come for payment. You may leave.” Pouted cheeks puffed as the woman seemed to deflate at his complete denial - and on choosing to ignore him, she instead turned, looking to the young Miqo’te directly as she repeated and rephrased the question; speaking as an Ul’dahn twisted by the allure of gil, as if the man beside his keeper really was nothing but the entourage like those invisible guards. “Yes, right, your services. How much?”

The healer had been lost in her own swirling thoughts once she had become satisfied with the quality of her work. As always, the satisfaction of another job well done painted a smile on her face. Relieved to see yet another suffering individual healed of their wounds. Truly was a horrible sight to see the way the bones in her fingers had been twisted in such a manner. It made her wonder exactly what kind of creature was capable of such interesting violence.

Though her brief train of thought had been quickly interrupted by the grating tone of her voice. Even Momodi couldn't compare to the irritating scrape of this woman's bird call on her ear drums. She shook her head slightly, dismissing the thought as just a change of mood due to the sudden fatigue. Losing that much aether that quickly was always quite draining on more than just the body. Though, she supposed that it was possible she had been emulating some of that discomfort she sensed from the tall lord prior to having sat down to do her work.

“Yes, she’s worked very hard to get where she is."

That earned him a flick of the ear under her hood. Sunken eyes, turned toward the Elezen who normally did well to keep his emotions in check. What caught her attention far more easily than that was his compliment.

Did he...was he reading my other notes?

She couldn't deny that his observation had a hint of more than just an educated guess behind it. Not all of the tomes that filled her shelves in her study were ones purchased from vendors. Some were very much her own notes she kept outside of her compendium during her studies of Astrology and even go as far back as her days first donning the role of a White Mage. Though, it would make sense for him to find something to occupy his time when she had once again fallen asleep in the midst of her effort to reorganize her network of knowledge.

Almost instantly as she had drifted off into that tangent of thought was she brought back to the present as the woman once again brought attention to herself. Cyra blinked, leaning back a bit as she refocused on the present, feeling herself sway a little. Her tail flicked out behind her to maintain balance as she settled back into stability.

"Yes, thank you." She offered the woman a polite grin, not having the faintest idea of what she was going on about. Something about the emphasis of her tone on specific words was an obvious implication of something outside of her understanding. Cyra had owned her scarf for far longer than she knew Silvaire. So why was this frilly woman making it seem like a big deal?

I...What?

As she had opened her mouth to ask what the woman meant, she heard the familiar sound of the tall lord warning her of his presence as he leaned in to speak with her.

"W-well, I had planned-"

She hadn't even the chance to finish her thought when the Hyur piped up once more, summoning forth her moneybag from one of her fellows. Cyra grinned, raising a shaking hand to wave off the mere suggestion of price, ready to speak for herself-

“Her services don’t come for payment. You may leave.”

It seems that Silvaire had been more than ready and prepared to speak for her.

The confused healer blinked a few times as her gaze flicked between her companion and the woman who sat beside her. Her shaking hands folded neatly into her own lap tightened with what she could only describe as an uncomfortable anxiety in the whole exchange. Whatever had happened between the decorated woman and her friendly company had Cyra partially wishing that she had simply decided to head home after visiting the Roost. Yet they had actually needed to run errands at the market as he was so kind to inform her that the pantry had been accumulating cobwebs during her busied week of sorting papers.

Cyra's tail flicked in annoyance at the way the woman disregarded him. The honest limb snaked around his ankle without her knowing as she made one more passing glance between the two before she resolved to answer.

"No, it's no trouble at all, ma'am. Please. He had the right of it, I don't ask for payment for my services. I only wish to see you well." The healer's smile was genuine despite the exhaustion that gripped her. At the very least, she was grateful that she had still been seated. Otherwise she likely would have needed a moment to wait for the room to stop spinning.

It was at this point in the encounter that the healer felt another throb of pain that ebbed at the horns in her skull. Her shoulders shook with a single shiver, the tail releasing it's gentle wrap around his ankle to flick out to her side and into her lap. Idle fingers entwined into the longer fibers of the fluffy end as she did her best to not show the waking headache that threatened to peek through her collected features.

She didn't want to alarm anyone, or make the woman uncomfortable by standing to leave (even if she knew it would have probably caused far more concern from her Elezen companion than she would have liked), so she raised a finger to her temple and tapped twice. It was a risk to treat herself like this so soon after having healed the woman's broken hands, but she just needed something to take the edge off of the growing pain.

[funbirdnest]

Blackbird (Translation)

I worked in the translation of the story for the past week and I have been unable to shut up about until now. This translation work was done in collaboration of @spectralpooch who worked as English proofreader and provided a lot of insight of the english grammar and composition. I was also helped by Yuko and Asher who helped with wording.

I hope you get to enjoy, even if just a little, the love we all put in this story that we have been waiting seven years for. 

Blackbird

The fantasy is burning.

—At the end of the day, love always prevails.

—Hard work and good intentions are always rewarded.

—As long as you wish for it with all your might, your dreams will always come true.

Such are the nonsensical, gibberish words that everyone recognizes as downright lies once they reach adulthood. And burning within a bonfire is the pile of papers—the representation of the very innocence of a young boy who earnestly believed in those lies.

The embers of dreams and hopes are stirred by the updraft caused by the hot air.

Ashes and soot soar up, miserably staining the clear skies.

“Aah, what a terrible shame.”

Hibiki Wataru looked up at the sky and, in sharp contrast to his words, trembled with pleasure.

He is a beautiful man.

Long, silver-white hair that resembles moonlight incarnate. A physique blessed with a perfect golden ratio.

He is wearing his elegantly designed uniform in quite an incomprehensible way.

His facial expressions and gestures are refined and effusively charming, and it feels as though wing scales and fluorescent lights should flutter around him with every step he takes.

But it is precisely because he is too beautiful that he can stand out in any town.

Every person who passes by throws him a strange look and either turns away or flees the scene as if having just encountered a monster. It is the most appropriate reaction when confronted with a monstrosity, but—

He wants them to at least scream.

To curse, spit, and throw stones at him.

It hurts the most to be ignored.

As if to convey this point, Wataru gestures towards them in invitation to do so—but the only one willing to approach him is a slightly dirtied pigeon.

"Aah, Gil! Poor you, Gilles de Rais¹! Your feathers are completely sullied!" 

Wataru laments while rubbing his cheek against the pigeon perched on his shoulder.

"When you are covered in soot like this, you look more like a crow than a pigeon! Crows are really smart, and they can become great ‘entertainers’ when trained, but people often hate them for no reason—it's troublesome, isn't it?"

At the sight of Wataru having a conversation with a pigeon as though it were completely normal, the people around him begin to back further away.

"... But right now, I have the feeling that such an individual would be the most suitable companion for me."

As Wataru mutters sadly to himself, the soot-covered pigeon pulls his hair with its beak.

“That hurts?! It was just a joke, Gil! Are you jealous? I've raised and looked after you since you were an egg, so there's no way I could ever discard you and look for another partner! Please cheer up—oya?”

As the pigeon goes all out on him, something falls down from the crevice of its beak. 

Cinders.

The wreckage of a dream that had been carried by the wind from afar.

“That's splendid! This will solve the problem of my ink running out!”

Wataru exclaims with pleasure and mashes the cinders with his fingertips.

Then, with fingers stained in black, he writes his name in the bundle of documents that he had been holding.

“—With this, it’s finished.”

Embracing the bundle of documents as though it were his most prized possession, Wataru trembles again.

“I wonder if he will be happy with this.”

***

There was a war.

A tragic conflict in which boys hurt and killed each other for the sake of their own dreams and ideals—for the sake of love.

Of course, although it has now become a gloomy and sorrowful memory, it was not actually a battle where people fought with guns and blades and bathed in each other's blood.

All of them were idols.

Standing on the stage, singing and dancing, their top priority was to bring people happiness.

However, at that time, their place of residence, Yumenosaki Private Academy, was not an environment in which idols could properly live as idols. Everything was decayed, stagnant and rotten.

There were those who stood up in order to change the situation at hand.

There were also those who tried to fight back in anger and sorrow after everything they held dear had been mangled in the name of the "revolution" the others had raised.

They turned the things that were supposed to make people happy into weapons, abused them, and imposed their own resentment and misery onto others.

As a result, this vast and boundless world was changed only slightly.

But the price that had been paid was extremely high.

—Yumenosaki 's era of conflict.

—The first revolution.

—The beginning of the end.

Regret consumes everyone whenever they remember the tragedy of that time.

***

A hospital room.

The brand new hospital in the vicinity of Yumenosaki Academy had been built with a sole purpose: to provide an immediate response on the occasion that a single person's physical condition changed for the worse.

Leading-edge medical equipment and top-notch doctors had been assembled in order to forcibly prolong his existence—sometimes even diverting attention from other, more urgent patients.

He is one of the world's most distinguished billionaires, the scion of the Tenshouin conglomerate, Tenshouin Eichi.

He is the leading actor in the conflict that unfolded in Yumenosaki.

He loved idols more than anyone else.

However, as a result of the kingcraft instilled in him from an early age by his private corporate tutor, the clear mind he has naturally possessed since birth, and his cold heart, he came to massacre the very thing he loved with his own hands.

The many sins he committed in this ironic twist of fate tormented him and made him sick.

“...”

Tenshouin Eichi is lying down on the floor of a very spacious hospital room.

He is also a beautiful man, but there is a crack distorting his beauty.

Seemingly because he hasn’t been eating, he has become emaciated, and his blond hair, which resembles sunlight incarnate², is disheveled and dull. His hospital clothes, composed of high-quality material, are completely wrinkled and dirtied.

Like a baby bird that fell from its nest.

He had ripped off the intravenous drips and other pieces of medical equipment designed to keep him alive and smashed them to pieces.

There were doctors who genuinely cared for Eichi's well-being and those whose interest in treating him stemmed only from professional duty—Eichi shunned them all equally with curses and threats.

—I don’t want to live anymore.

—So, please, don’t treat me.

—Someone like me doesn’t deserve to live.

“No.”

Eichi, withering and on the verge of death, hears a voice reply to the soliloquy he hadn't expected anyone to hear.

There is only a single small window in the room. No matter how hard one might try to contort their body, it would be impossible to enter through—regardless, it was from that very window that Hibiki Wataru's towering silhouette soundlessly entered. 

It is like a dream.

As if it were a magic trick, he suddenly materializes.

“—It's you. Hibiki Wataru of The Five Eccentrics.”

"That story has already concluded, so will you please stop referring to me that way?"

As he casually replies to Eichi, who had spoken as though in a trance, Wataru strides across the hospital room.

He steps over the countless broken pieces of wreckage scattered across the floor, but never breaks anything.

“Let's readjust our mindset! Now, while we still have the chance to bask in the success of our stage performances, let's sit back and recharge our batteries! That is our duty, Tenshouin Eichi-kun!"

“Just what the hell are you doing here?”

Eichi mutters reproachfully, glaring up at Wataru with cruel eyes.

“Did you come to mock me because I thought I was victorious but wound up losing everything?”

Presumably too prideful to continue behaving in an undignified manner, Eichi staggers to his feet and then takes a seat on the mattress.

Having refused even the cleaning staff, this dirty hospital bed is now his only throne.

“Or do you intend to seek vengeance on behalf of your fellow Five Eccentrics?”

“No, not at all? Although there were some underwhelming parts, you still persevered and accomplished great things atop the stage! You have my praises. I have no reason to make fun of you!”

Wataru continues, his tone cheerful. Scattered, multicolored petals surround a broken flower vase—he gathers them up, grasps them in one hand, and opens his palm to reveal a single perfect flower.

"Besides, my beloved friends, The Five Eccentrics, were not actually killed. They're not that fragile, so I ask that you do not disparage them."

Though his eyes flash with hostility for a single instant, Wataru hides it with the ease of putting on a mask.

“Shu is slowly recovering his strength in the comfort of his dolls and the mutual love they share. Kanata, too, is embarking on a new life together with the inexperienced hero who saved his heart. And, of course, Our Majesty, the Demon King, Rei, too—indeed, someone like him will never die, even if he's killed.”

As he mentions each of the remarkable members of The Five Eccentrics, Wataru smiles.

“And the youngest sibling whom we risked our lives to protect, Natsume-kun, doesn't have a single scar. He quickly found the bluebird you set free, and is venturing forth into his life—not as a member of The Five Eccentrics, but as a human and idol.”

"...They're so strong. Everyone, all of them, are strong and splendid human beings worthy of respect—unlike me. Hiyori-kun and Nagisa-kun, too. It appears that they’ve already begun to move on to their next stage."

Looking somewhat astonished, Eichi hangs his head like a confused lost child.

“Am I really the only one who can’t move? At the end of Yumenosaki's conflict, or the saga chronicling the subjugation of The Five Eccentrics, am I truly the only loser?”

“No, no. I feel the same way. It's embarrassing to admit, but—I don't know what I should do next.”

With a dumbfounded expression that mirrors Eichi's, Wataru fidgets with the flower with his black-stained fingers.

“I'm quite satisfied with how things concluded on that most wonderful stage, even though we had to settle for the second-best result—but I'm at a bit of a loss, as I have no further plans for the future.”

"I see. Would you like me to apologize? By casting you in the role of the villain, a symbol deserving of ridicule and disdain, I turned you into the target of everyone's malice."

“Yes. Thanks to you, no one trusts me enough to work with me, so all of my future plans are now uncertain. I suppose I could arrange a stage and enact a story of my own choosing, but… A one-man show would be a little lonely, wouldn't it?”

"I thought that you would always be happy to stand onstage no matter what—even alone."

“Regrettably, I'm an entertainer whose only purpose is to make others happy. If I were to stand onstage all by myself, I would lose all motivation.”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Wataru quietly offers Eichi the flower.

”And so, I thought I would ask you, the organizer of the most satisfying stage I have ever stood upon, for another commission. That's the reason I came today. Of course, I am also here to visit the sick."

“Was that sarcasm? I humiliated and denigrated you and your beloved friends. I trampled on and killed all of you for the sake of my own dream.”

“No one is dead, Eichi-kun. Everything that took place is just a story.”

”Are you really going to behave like a sore loser and pretend like you all weren't actually hurt?”

"No. If I were to hold a grudge and get angry at you, it would be an insult to my friends' extraordinary performance in their roles as villains. That's why I won't give you the pleasure of my vengeance.”

“I don’t understand your reasoning.”

“It’s a mystery to me too. This is the first time in my life that I have ever felt this alive. It's as though something I cannot quite comprehend is stirring inside me.”

Wataru speaks with an innocent, puzzled expression on his face, as though he were a child who had just tripped for the very first time in his life.

***

“Oops. I went off on a tangent just now, but I meant to give you this gift earlier.”

Suddenly coming to his senses, Wataru quietly hands Eichi the flower in his hand.

The instant that the flower touches Eichi's fingertips, it transforms into a bundle of documents.

It’s just like magic.

“... Oh, my goodness. As always, your magic tricks are beyond comparison, Hibiki-kun.”

“You and I are not particularly close, so don't blurt out things like that as if you know me.”

“I’ve always been watching you.”

Eichi speaks honestly, seemingly too tired to maintain a strong front. He proceeds to look over the bundle of papers.

His expression dawns with astonishment.

“This is—”

“Fufufu. This is the pipe dream³ written by our beloved younger brother and only son, Natsume-kun. He poured all of his heart and soul into it.”

Wataru explains, satisfied with the surprised expression on Eichi's face.

“This is a scenario envisioning a way in which we, The Five Eccentrics, could have achieved victory over you in our final battle the other day.”

“Oh, that's right, just before the decisive battle, you and the other Five Eccentrics had some kind of exchange. I was preoccupied with other matters at the time, so I didn't pay much attention to what all of you were up to.”

Deeply immersed in reading, Eichi flips through the stack of documents carefully. A grin slowly begins to form on his lips.

“Fufu. So cute; it’s really like a fantasy story. ‘I don't want my beloved Five Eccentrics to lose. I want us to have a happy ending where no one has to be sacrificed—’”

"Indeed. He filled the pages with such impossible fantasies and impractical delusions."

“... It was only by defeating you on that stage that we somehow managed to settle things in a conclusive way. If the five of you had won that day, we would still be enmeshed in the middle of an unending conflict.”

"Exactly. I anticipated as much, which is why I was unable to accept this. This present, packed with that child's—with Natsume-kun's—dreams, expectations, and love.”

“And, because we followed the premeditated arrangement, everything went smoothly.”

“That's true. But, just as one would expect from a story desperately written by our beloved child... It's very compelling, isn't it? It'd be heartless to ignore it altogether and just throw it away.”

Wataru gently caresses the pile of documents as if consoling a little baby.

“And that's why I quickly examined the contents, committed them to memory, and secretly copied them. Only moments ago, Natsume-kun burned the original copy himself, so—that child's fantasy should, by all accounts, have been completely erased from this earth.”

Wataru laughs like a naughty child who just successfully carried out a prank.

“Everyone will assume so. And even though this is an imitation, the contents are extremely close to the real thing. No, rather, the contents are only the things that I chose to resurrect in accordance with my own preferences.”

“Hmph. But there's no way you can actually use this, right? It's just a bunch of delusions with no grounding in reality. In other words: worthless garbage. It's nothing more than a work of fiction that fabricates convenient plots for foolish readers who yearn to avert their eyes from this harsh reality.”

Eichi drops the pile of documents onto the dirty bed and sneers at it.

“It has no bearing on the real world. Those kinds of stories only exist in the minds of idealistic writers. It's not the real thing. It's not reality.”

“Right. And so, I'd like to ask you, with your firm grasp on reality, to please rework it.”

“...?”

“You're hospitalized, so you have a lot of free time, correct?”

Wataru smiles, carefully gathering up the documents Eichi dropped one by one.

“Please use that spare time to improve upon this document. And adapt it into a new story in which The Five Eccentrics, your opponents, achieve victory.”

“What would be the point of doing such a thing?”

“You must be prepared for anything the future decides to throw your way, no matter how incredibly low the chances of it actually occurring may be. You know this better than anyone, but you were born with a fragile constitution, so—you could die at any time.”

“...You're right. And now that I've lost my will to live, I'm even refusing treatment.”

“And if you, the main character of this story, were to die and abruptly, nonsensically disappear from the narrative, the entire plot would collapse.”

“.....”

"Do you understand what I mean, Eichi-kun?"

“I understand, Hibiki-kun.”

Eichi's eyes, as cloudy as a corpse's, begin to sparkle.

“I have a responsibility. A responsibility as a protagonist—as an author. I have to be prepared for when my character dies and vanishes from this world—from the story.”

"Yes. However, you don't strike me as an expert storyteller, so I thought it'd be convenient to use something as a basis—for the story. This pipe dream written by Natsume-kun is quite suitable in terms of both content and quality, right?”

“That's right. It's the story that the child prodigy, the youngest member of The Five Eccentrics, wove out of his own life force.”

This time, Eichi doesn’t sneer sarcastically. As he praises his enemy, an honest smile appears on his face.

“Thank you, Hibiki-kun. Since this is a story founded on the premise of my imminent death, I can't let Keito, who hates the thought of me dying more than anyone else, write it.”

Eichi's eyes widen, surprised at the deep affection with which he spoke these words.

He'd assumed he'd lost everything. And yet—is he only now remembering that there are still things worth loving?

“I'll write it. To ensure the story will continue after I'm gone.”

Growing more and more energetic, Eichi stains his fingers with the filth splattered across his bed and begins to scrawl on the back of the stack of documents. His handwriting is so sluggish and messy that no one besides him could possibly read it.

“First of all, let's ensure that I get defeated while I'm still alive. After bringing down The Five Eccentrics and seizing control of everything, I become a power-crazed tyrant. And so, a new generation of heroes stands up to defeat me. It could be Natsume-kun, the surviving member of The Five Eccentrics, or someone else.”

“Yes ♪ And then? What will happen next in this story?”

“It's not enough to merely change the person in power. The masses themselves should mobilize and take action into their own hands to improve the world. Yes, the next step is the people's revolution. That's why... errr... aaahh—”

Eichi is so absorbed in the moment that he scatters the documents. He clutches his head with both hands.

“I can’t work through my thoughts! I'm not a genius, so this is really hard for me! Aah, this is pathetic, and I have no right to ask this of you, but—Can you help me come up with more ideas, Hibiki-kun?”

“Yes, with pleasure ♪ I also have some time to spare, after all!”

Wataru sits on the bed and happily gazes at Eichi, who has become entirely absorbed in the act of weaving⁴ the beginnings of a new story.

“I look forward to seeing what sort of stage I'll stand on next. Aah, in both my past and present, this has always been my only source of happiness.”

“I'm out of paper! I also want something to write with! Hibiki-kun, isn't there somewhere nearby where you could buy some?”

“Yes, yes. Aren't you supposed to be my fan? Are you sure you should be bossing me around like this?”

With a smile that seems to say, Well, it doesn't really matter, Wataru shifts like a bird about to take flight.

“Come on, let's celebrate, let's weave, let's create—a story! In this second iteration, the tragedy will become a comedy! Yes, I'm certain that this next work will be a very enjoyable story!”

“Enough, enough! Stop saying unnecessary things and just hurry up! Before life leaves my body!”

“Yes, yes. You really know how to put people to work, Mr. Author... ♪”

………

And so, Hibiki Wataru chose to assist Tenshouin Eichi in the creation of his story.

Together, they supported one another, engaged in heated debates, and envisioned the future.

It was at the end of that gloomy winter when the two of them, now fine, the rulers of Yumenosaki Academy, were defeated by the revolutionaries of Trickstar.

It was a season when the seeds carried by dirty, exhausted birds finally bloomed into flowers.

1. Gilles de Rais was a leader of the French army and participated in the Hundred Years’ War alongside Jeanne d’Arc as a companion of arms. Later in his life he went on to become a serial killer of children and was condemned to death and hanged. 

In the story “Cinderella on the Stake's Stage,” it’s revealed that Wataru also has a pigeon called “Jeanne d’Arc.”

2. Akira describes Eichi’s hair as “陽光を固めたような” = “As if sunlight has taken physical shape”. Likewise this is also the way he describes Wataru’s hair “月光を固めたような” = “As if moonlight has taken physical shape”.

3. We chose to interchange the words pipe dream and fantasy through the story but they often refer to the same script Natsume wrote.

4. Weaving reads as “Tsumugi” here.

[taoofshigeru]

Octopath Traveler 2 Ship Power Rankings

My 8path2 ships, explained.

I have beaten the game so some of this is spoiler-informed and/or explicit spoilers.

Partitio x Ori -She speaks in headlines. He restored her faith in humanity. I am in the process of burning incense to pray for their happy future.

Temenos x Crick -One of them is straight-laced, the other is not straight. Holmes and Watson but pixelated and for a modern audience. --"But isn't Crick-?" Shhh. Yes, but I don't think that stops Temenos. And no, not like that. Temenos just knows a very eminent magic scholar and the party makes contact with some very particular tomes. I think he starts getting ideas and solves that particular issue. In a year the official records will show Crick just took an extended leave of absence from the sacred guard for personal reasons.

Castti x Malaya x Andy -The latter two are very clearly in love and they find a way to make it work. Malaya works on making sure Castti doesn't overwork herself and Andy gives her massages whenever she gets tired.

Dolcinea x Veronica -Canon lesbians representing all aspects of the futch and distinguished/disaster scales between them. Definitively not the most problematic gay relationship in the game, either.

Mindt x Tanzy -I feel no particular need to explain this one.

Alrond x Misha -Another couple where one of them is straight-laced, the other is not straight.

That purple guy x Castti's axe -They just seem to keep running into each other and I think it's kinda cute.

Other comments: -Don't ship Throné, Osvald, Agnea, Ochette, or Hikari with anyone in particular at the moment. --Throné I hc as aroace. --Osvald needs some time to grieve. --Agnea I guess could work with Gil or Gus or Giselle but the chemistry there felt more platonic to me. Unless you want to group the three of them together and they could be a polycule going by the name "Aggie's Gs" --Ochette's best chemistry is with her animal friends and/or a big slab of red meat. There's maybe something to be done with her and Cohazeh but the two barely interact. --Hikari is the character I was personally least interested in, so while I guess he has some chemistry with Zeto and/or Rai Mei and a forbidden ship with Kazan, it's not really at the forefront of my mind.

-Compared to the first OT, I feel like the characters fit together more as true companions and less as love interests. But the bit players in each character's individual story have a lot more going on and that's something I appreciate.

[arofili]

men of middle-earth ∿ misc. númenóreans ∿ headcanon disclaimer

          The Guild of Venturers was an organization of mariners formed by the great Númenórean adventurer Tar-Aldarion while he was still a prince. Its headquarters were on Aldarion’s ship Eämbar, anchored off the island of Tol Uinen in the bay of R��menna, but its sailors steered their vessels all across the Great Sea to the distant shores of Middle-earth. At its height, the Guild was hundreds of men strong, but only a few were close to its Master, Aldarion.            Among these select few were Henderch of Andustar and Ulbar of Emerië. They accompanied their prince to Middle-earth on the massive ship Hirilondë, and upon their return they journeyed with him to the White House of Erendis his wife. While Ulbar rode on to his own home, Henderch remained with Aldarion and witnessed Erendis’ cold greeting to her absent husband. Finding himself unwelcome in his wife’s home, Aldarion left earlier than he had planned, heading on to the lands of his cousin Hallatan of Hyarastorni.           Ulbar had been a shepherd on one of Hallatan’s farms before he joined the Guild of Venturers, and upon his return his wife Êlukî threw him a gladsome homecoming party, overjoyed to have him home. When Aldarion and Henderch arrived in the midst of the celebration, the prince grew increasingly bitter in his jealousy of Ulbar’s happy marriage. When Ulbar’s son Îbal asked how old one had to be to go to sea, Aldarion snapped, giving him a bitter answer. In his anger, Aldarion decided not to ride on to Hallatan’s house, instead returning alone to Armenelos despite Henderch’s protestation that a prince should not ride unaccompanied. Before he left, however, Aldarion gave Êlukî a ring with a fiery red jewel that had been gifted to him by the Elvenking Gil-galad—a present that had originally been intended for Erendis.           Êlukî treasured this gift, and impressed upon her son to always treat the royal house with honor. It was counsel given too late, for two years previously Îbal had come to the White House of Erendis on an errand and met the young princess Ancalimë, who had never before seen a male and thought him a “noisy thing.” His visit prompted Ancalimë to ask questions of her servant Zamîn, who first told her of her father Aldarion. Zamîn would remain a faithful companion of the princess, aiding her when she went into hiding under the name Emerwen Aranel to escape the attention of suitors who desired her hand for the power they would gain.           In the centuries following the height of Aldarion’s power, the Guild of Venturers was slowly absorbed into the royal navy of Númenor. While they remained a powerful force of exploration, individual mariners became less prominent as their tasks turned to a primarily military role. The last great explorer of what remained of the Guild was Círyatur, who in his youth sailed far and wide, updating the maps made by Aldarion to reflect changes in the land nearly a thousand years later. For his greatness, Ruling Queen Tar-Telperiën named him the Chief Admiral of Númenor’s navy, a title held in name only for many years, as she was uninterested in meddling with the affairs of Middle-earth.           Her nephew and heir Minastir, however, was concerned about the growing threat of Sauron, and convinced his aunt to send aid to the elves of Lindon besieged by the Dark Lord. Telperiën allowed this so long as Minastir oversaw the operation, leaving her out of it, and suddenly Círyatur found himself forced into a military role. Yet with Minastir’s support, Círyatur rose to the occasion and commanded a great fleet in the Battle of the Gwathló, resulting in a resounding defeat of Sauron and his forces—and embittering him against the Númenóreans, desiring to bring about their ultimate downfall.

[immortal-tale]

I have no idea why I'm crying over these scenes...

------------------------------------------------------‐

Gong Pil-Du quickly summoned his Armed Fortress and supported Yi Hyeon-Seong from behind. He then shouted out. “If I help, we can endure for a bit longer! So, hurry up and rescue that fool!”

The companions looked at each other.

“Hold each other’s hands, everyone!” Jeong Hui-Won grabbed onto Yi Hyeon-Seong with one hand, and extended the other. “Unleash your Fables all at once!”

That outstretched hand was held by Yi Seol-Hwa, then Shin Yu-Seung and Yi Gil-Yeong held on to her other hand. The hands of two children were then connected to Yi Ji-Hye.

Persephone, as well as Yi Su-Gyeong, followed them right after.

“Kim Dok-Ja! Wake up!!”

Jang Ha-Yeong grabbed Yi Su-Gyeong’s hand and cried out, while Yu Sang-Ah caught her extended hand next.

“Su-Yeong-ssi!”

The last person to grab the outstretched hand was Han Su-Yeong.

“….I got you."

●●●

[Stigma, ‘Character Summon’, is activating!]

The individual she had written, but she didn’t know of.

[Character, ‘Yu Jung-Hyeok’, is answering the call!]

“Hold on tight.”

A man descended with the rays of light. Yu Jung-Hyeok’s powerful hand grabbed hers. Han Su-Yeong endured against her eyes tearing up and shouted back at him.

“You hold on tight, instead!”

From Yi Hyeon-Seong to Yu Jung-Hyeok, the companions�� Fable began to glow brightly.

To get this far, they had lost many things.

“Jung-Hyeok-ssi! We leave it in your hands!”

“Master! Hurry!”

However, it wasn’t as if they had been losing things only.

Yu Jung-Hyeok extended his hand out.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

😱The creepiest adventure the Doctor's ever had

Think the Weeping Angels are creepy? The Vashta Nerada? Psh, child's play. This is the story of the Face-Painter.

Imagine being led through the streets of West Hollywood every Thursday afternoon, wrists tied together with bright handkerchiefs to your companions, and not a single face among you. That's the Doctor's life now, along with two others—Jamie and Victoria. They don't have faces, just smooth, pink, egg-like heads. As their handler Rachel describes them: 'They're OK from the neck down... But what can you do with the heads?'

Despite having no eyes, no noses, or mouths, they can see, breathe, and speak—though the words come out muffled, like 'they're chewing' or gagged. It's surreal and disturbing, but no one looks too closely. In this part of West Hollywood, Rachel notes, 'No one looks too hard at no one for long, unless they want trouble.'

Each week, they visit the Face-Painter on Santa Monica Boulevard. 'So what's it gonna be?' he asks, but he doesn't ask them—he asks Rachel, as if they're not even there. Victoria always requests the same face, sketching it out with care. But this time, the Face-Painter plays a cruel trick, painting deep folds into her face like the crumpled paper she drew on. 'She looks like she's been in some real bad accident,' Rachel reflects as Victoria cries without tears.

Jamie, meanwhile, shrugs off the whole thing. When asked who he wants to be, he says he doesn't care. Rachel jokes, 'Make him Brad Pitt,' and the Face-Painter obliges.

And the Doctor? Silent, distant. He doesn't ask for anything, so the Face-Painter goes rogue and paints a giant sunflower on his blank head. The Doctor just sits there, helpless.

The real horror is that they're trapped. Rachel is paid to keep them locked in her basement, like prisoners. 'None of them say much,' she muses, 'but they know I look after them.' They live in silence, with Rachel mocking them as boring when they don't respond, but in reality, they're completely at the mercy of whoever is keeping them. Victoria can barely contain her despair, whispering, 'I can't bear it... these dreadful, shapeless clothes, greasy, sickly food...'

There's something even darker beneath the surface. Jamie wonders if their faces might be stored somewhere, like in the jars Rachel keeps in her apartment. The Doctor, always the optimist, tries to reassure the others, 'We're suffering from some kind of illusion, a spell that's been placed on us somehow.' But even he is unsure. As Jamie rages, 'How can it be? Why are we being kept here, week after week?' There are no answers—just a grim routine, the threat of something worse if they try to escape, and the chilling possibility that their faces—and their lives—are slipping away forever.

(Face Painter from Short Trips: A Universe of Terrors)

Whoniverse Facts for Friday by GIL

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[anki-of-beleriand]

Okay, this was my first attempt at something different and it did not turn out the way it was supposed to.

Thank you @aduialel for the prompt, I know this is no quite what you ask... But, It has an open ending and I do intend to make it through a second part.

This will feature Young Thranduil

Elrond/Celebrian

Glorfindel and a non traditional reader/OC.

Again, this is my first time and, English is no my mother tongue so do forgive me any mistake.

The prompt was:

46. "Shut up, I'm a delight!"

Now, enjoy.

_________________________________________

The Great Hall had been decorated with gold and silver, the lamps hanging above their heads had been brought to the dwarves from Moria and the wine had been shared by the elves from Eregion. The whole room had been filled with allies, family and friends, and Elrond could say this was one of the most lovely festivities he had shared in a very long time.

The sweet music from the harps and violins reached his ears. And his lips curled up when his eyes caught sight of his wife and his best friend fooling around on the dance floor. Celebrian was laughing, her eyes had closed as her hand stretched out to allow Thranduil a quick twirl and then a sweep to the side.

Elrond arched a single eyebrow, he cleared his throat while shooting amused stares to both elves who turned their attention to him.

“Would it be possible to recover my wife, Thranduil? Or, would I have to fight you for her?” Elrond could not hold his smile as Thranduil straightened up wrapping an arm around Celebrian’s shoulders.

“You will have to fight me, Elrond. Your wife is a delight, and she is light on her feet, unlike you.”

“Oh, be nice, Lastithen.”  (little leaf) Celebrian chuckled when all Thranduil did was wince at the old nickname.

“I am nice, your husband is too easy.” Thranduil smirked at this, not letting go of Celebrian who was hiding her smile.

Elrond rolled his eyes knowing Thranduil was being difficult just because he enjoyed being difficult.

“You will have to give her back, eventually.”

“You two will stop talking about me as if I'm not here.”Celebrian said with a hint of warning in her voice, her expression did not change but both Elrond and Thranduil nodded obediently.

“Now, while I always enjoy your antics, Lasthiten, I think I need to teach my husband how to enjoy himself.”

“I resent that, I know how to enjoy myself.” Elrond replied, sending withered glances to Celebrian and Thranduil whe. He both of them snorted at this.

“I do!”

“Of course, my love, come  show me how you enjoy yourself.”

Thranduil stepped aside watching with growing amusement as Celebrian really tried to teach some dancing moves to Elrond. The black-haired elf was looking confused but completely smitten by Celebrian so, whatever she did or propose he was soon obeying without a hint of a doubt. A pang of jealousy tried to overcome Thranduil, he longed to have something like this. A love to share laughter and foolish moments, someone to share his dreams and fears.

The music soon was too much, the light became too bright and Thranduil had a need to leave the Great Hall. He turned around walking towards the closest balcony, fresh air could scare away his darkening thoughts and go back to enjoy the friendship of his friends and the love of his family. Nothing else mattered.

The terrace faced the great sea stretching out beyond the lands Thranduil had ever known and loved. The light of the moon reflected on his waters, while the sound of the waves breaking in the hills ignited a nostalgia Thranduil did not think himself capable of feeling. He approached the railing without noticing he was not alone, in the far corner was a single figure.

An elf maiden.

She was leaning against the railing with her light hair falling on her back and her face turned towards the sea. Her face was a mask of pure concentration, with her dark eyes gleaming contently without a care in the world.

For a brief moment, Thranduil hesitated. He was looking for fresh air but at the same time he was looking for solitude and did not want to interrupt someone else in their contemplation of nothingness.

Still, he wanted his fresh air and his solitude and this elf maiden had not taken notice of him so he stepped forward and stood right at the other side of the terrace observing the dark waters of the sea.

“For a human you really are quite sneaky, what are you doing here?” Glorfindel barged in the terrace offering a brilliant smile to the woman.

“Well, I told you I was not good at great gatherings and I want to see the sea at night.” She said, offering a half smile. “How did you find me?”

“Magic, my dear, let's go there is someone I want you to meet.”

She laughed and her whole face brightened up and soon Thranduil realized he had been standing to the side watching the whole scene flabbergasted and unable to move. He had mistaken himself, the woman was not an elf but a mortal. A woman!

And of course he should have noticed!

Yet, there was something different…

Thranduil soon furrowed his brows rather annoyed. Did Glorfindel and that woman ignore him? They did not even look his way!

They really dare to ignore him!

The audacity!

Thranduil barged inside the Great Hall, his eyes glancing around from one group to the other. Narrowing his eyes when he caught sight of his father then Gil Galad, a group of elves he did not know pretty well.

“Thranduil, is everything alright ?” Elrond stopped him with a single hand, the blond-haired elf turned to his friend tilting his head as if confused by the question.

“I am. Why do you ask?”

“You look agitated,” this time it was Celebrian who furrowed her brows trying to locate with her eyes the responsible for bringing such humour to her friend. “Did something happen?”

Thranduil knitted his brows together, he glanced around then back at Celebrian and Elrond.

“Can you believe that moments ago Glorfindel came in without even looking at me?” Thranduil said indignantly, his eyes gleaming strangely. “ And he was not alone. Of course. And he and his companion had the nerve to ignore me when I was right in front of their noses?”

Elrond and Celebrian both glanced at one another then turned to Thranduil who now was looking like a petulant child. He was still looking with his eyes at the two offending individuals until, finally he found them. Celebrian followed those blue eyes and realized who he was speaking of, her face lit up in understanding just as she realized Thranduil was looking really aggravated by this.

“Well, my friend you can be quite difficult sometimes, and…”

“Excuse me?” Thranduil directed his attention to Elrond who smiled sheepishly at him.

“Thranduil, right now you are acting all offended because Glorfindel and his human friend didn't greet you.” Elrond tried to sound reasonable but he had already said the wrong thing and Celebrian was highly amused and distracted to help him a little.

“Thranduil, please don't go around being difficult… ” Elrond tried to explain but pressed his lips together when Thranduil glared at him.  

“I am not difficult, Elrond. I'm a delight! Now, shut up and come with me to make our proper introductions to this human friend.”

With that said Thranduil grabbed Elrond by his arm and dragged him around the room directly towards his goal ready to show Glorfindel of Gondolin and this stranger he was in fact a delight. And should not be ignored.

Elrond was completely and utterly confused and, while Celebrian was equally confused she was quite amused as well.following both of them to see how this would end.

After all…

… This ought to be interesting.

[captainkurosolaire]

Breakage! The Gambit

The Seeker wobbling in distraught. Was he just going to sit here and allow his Crewmate to perish another tally? Did he learn anything? For someone of zero fear when broken and bent at concealed arm’s even the most durable foundations may crumble. The Captain couldn’t bear this anymore! He wouldn’t! Shelah was severely injured and in small tears. Preparing herself for her custom and wicked upbringing to come back in repeating. Her ruler the Banshee forewarned her of certainty all males were just the incarnation of single-minded destroyers especially the pirates who slipped themselves in unfortunately into her Isle’s proved. In a cycled pattern. She thought that self-serving and surviving for the fittest was likely in his nature especially when in this spot. Despite this, the Captain was outmatched here. He stepped forward before plummeting arch and stammered in a shout against his opponent whatever that right Red-Hand could do. “No! Don’t ye’ touch her!!!” Drawing in he’d lower in submission his forehead into the surface near the boots of the assailants right before his tone came too commanding in fight… He conceded his pride and greed into the bowels of priorities.

“Oh…?” The blacked coated individual took the chum but then sighed unimpressed, “Guessing this is one of those, kill me pleas instead of the other?” Rearranging his reckoning towards the Captain’s visage slowly in creeping unless could be convinced with raw meaning. Humiliated in this breakage but he wouldn’t… Couldn’t ever allow his vows to be broken again. He would rather charge and plunge himself and advisory into the cursed depths. Though… He had one gambit with his keen observance. “Ye aren’t any surprise contractors. Hired from below decks by Princess Unitard? Then I’ll buy yer service out. Obviously yer skilled and coming across contacts and getting gil has become redundant. Though, I can offer better than the other guy.” He’d flare and intensely flash his stare with a collective and confidence succeeding himself in all convincing. Having to result in exposing himself alive to assassins wasn’t probably the wisest. Though as often dead man tells no lies, and he very much was dead if this didn’t work! Now, this was mildly amusing and unique. The Captain would be a fool to lie to him right here in this dangerous revelation. “What makes you believe I’d ever exchange a client’s wish for slaughter?” Drawing an ilm back on his hovering hand. Captain clenched his jaw before remaining iron, “Cause ye are in business with pirates. This is a sport for you. Is your business model really that complicated t’ understand? You’d rather rake in the biggest pool. Regardless of whose life is in question, none of that is ever a concern. I know a man in your line, a bunch in fact. I’m not just some random accidental pirate ye hit. I’m yer golden ticket. I’ll exchange for our lives with the promise of relics of every single one I’ve collected in my sea-vessel. Not only do they fetch higher prices for gil but can only boost your blood-shedding possibly your enjoyment and creativity.” Swallowing under this restrictive tension. If this didn’t work, he’d have to hurl entire shoulders and body-weight and the last amount of force to bide enough for Shelah to muster a worm out if she could or accept their perish. Immersed the individual with a side of light and dark intimidatingly giving him a Gemini facepaint thought it out a split of his body. Admitting this situation was unique. They managed still even in their condition to give an actual challenge to his companion who was also barely conscious. And this pirate was willing to remove every single remaining amount of fortune for the sake of what… One woman? For the price of his past his last remaining infamy and namesake surrounding him. He’d give away all worldly possessions, a pirate nonetheless. He made it convincing enough it would have still been a ploy and last-ditch desperation for the Miqo’te. The reaping threat decided to address his own cohort. “You heard everything, didn’t you? What are your thoughts.” He’d reach in and withdraw his red-right hand and draw out that hand that always stayed in his pocket. A golden rune on the exterior flesh glowed around before replenishing and nearly instantaneously recovering his wounded partner. It only solidified Captain’s instincts and hunches they never had a chance to win this absurd encounter. Fiona felt enlightened and peace sent through her as she finally emerged once again spunky and fiery, “Blimey about o’ time. Ya’ enjoyed me squirming out in agony that you did, you’re a freaky sadistic bastard…” After an awkward gut-wrenching pause, “Honestly, I had a laugh with em’, I’d like to reclaim their heads when they’re not little bitty wounded fawns.” Ironically she looked down on them despite her loss. Everyone just glossed and internally shrugged it off. Speaking nonchalantly about their deaths. Though each of them clearly would be more thrilled to hunt and overall slay something that gave them a rush than just a few second thrill rides this was their comparable sex. “Fiona, go check out if he’s telling merit, count your blessings then for this one exception, we’ll see. Pray, you’ve enough to buy a temporarily freedom.” They’d quietly leave verifying Captain’s plunders were genuine. Now attaining an arsenal of his main-stay including his trusty Scimitars of the Voidal series, alongside any other thing that looked valuable in coffers and pouches. Though while Shelah looked a bit in disbelief, Captain reflected his own opposite in relief. He’d check on her. Now completely understanding just who her devoted Captain was at the core. Still, she couldn’t help but muster weakly in detest, “...Wh-y… --Why, you’re the leader! That was your LIFE!” Outcries ejected from her by his sacrifice of accolades, accomplishments, and ‘valued’ treasures stockpiled throughout all his legacy.

With calmness setting in and his composure shining through the crack’s from despair. “You’re my crew. That’s not expendable to me! That is a price I find boundless, that is what I value my real treasure, that’s what Worldly means to me. ...It doesn’t seem like it, but we won. Because I also believe by us just remaining breathers we’ll make sure our Navigator we owe our plausible fortune too will also remain to enable smiling a bit while longer n’ all the company ov’ our companions included. Cheer up. Ye rest assured we’ll seize th’ next wave.” He declared in his ever-evolving heart. She felt the term of ‘Outcast’ shatter in this crew’s stead.                 (Previous)  — / References /  —   ♫ — (Next Page)  

[crossmusings]

Making Weight

Scale

An FFXIV Write Submission

There were parts about being a mercenary that Braum enjoyed, and there were parts he hated. The work, he enjoyed- it was the best of two worlds. He got to have the pleasure of being useful in matters large and small, and he got to line the pockets of himself and his crew with Gil while he was at it. The lifestyle, too, he enjoyed, always moving, what few moments they spent sedentary were also spent in revelry. 

He hated keeping up appearances. Let alone that communication was a lengthy task for him, should simple gestures and expressions fail him, but there were things people expected of a quality company of mercenaries. They expected them to ask few questions, to break their backs working- Fine expectations. They expected them to look the part. This, he found more taxing. With a slew of races under his command, and each individual bearing different preferences in arms and armor, there was no uniform he could easily enforce. So instead, they must all look lean, mean, and cut as granite statues to maintain the respect-on-sight natures that the work often required. For some members of The Stoneshields, this was an easy ask, it was in their nature to keep in top physical form both functionally and aesthetically. For others, it was a constant chore. Braum was amidst those who considered it a chore- He was fond of ale and honey and other sweet things, and while it had never cost him in strength, nor agility... It had often meant he’d find himself sporting the beginnings of a belly.

Knowing that, he could hardly exclude himself from the monthly weigh in he’d instated for the company some years back. It was an effective tool, for keeping himself and the others aware of their condition, and to nudge into place the desire to keep up on it. So, it had become something of an event. Once a month, they would all gather together on empty bellies, in the wee hours of the morning before breakfast, step on a scale, and be weighed against carefully measured bricks. 

Mostly, this resulted in some light hearted teasing, and a little help on burning the excess were one to weigh over their standard. Extra portions from the cook were in order if one proved too far under. In the case of some, it was an excuse to flex on their companions, quite literally, and display some extra mass in muscle. For Braum, it was a dreaded monthly task of trying to keep his weight within a half dozen bricks above or below his standard. Which, of course, made today a particularly horrifying day for him. The chuckles were his first warning, as he strode towards the scales fresh off the overnight watch, that something might be off. Was he looking a little thick around the middle? Was there some extra jiggle in his wiggle? Such thoughts plagued his mind as he balanced himself on one side of the scale, and the bricks started piling up on the other. Seventy bricks- roughly a hundred and forty pounds. That was his usual. Anything within six bricks of that, he was alright with.

So distress was quick to set in when his end of the scale wasn’t starting to wobble upwards at seventy three bricks. Nor did it budge at eighty. The chuckles from the rest of the company, by then, had turned to full, throaty laughter, playful jeers sounding from a few throats, a teasing mention of honeycakes from another. It wasn’t until ninety bricks, a full forty pounds more than the norm, that the scale leveled. Braum, deadpan and under a mountain of dread, stared at those bricks for a moment- before stepping down, turning on his heel, and promptly marching over towards a good, sturdy looking branch. He was a dozen pullups in, the laughter still raging behind him, when Dhem leaned over to mutter to the man beside her- grin stretching from ear to ear. “When are we gonna tell him he forgot to take his armor off?”

[monster-of-master]

lfc; Sekh’a Okohwe.

The Basics ––– –

NAME:  Sekh’a Okohwe. AGE:  Late twenties. BIRTHDAY:  Twenty-fifth sun of the first Astral Moon. RACE:  Keeper of the Moon. GENDER: Male. SEXUALITY: Heterosexual, polyamorous. MARITAL STATUS: Single.

Physical Appearance ––– –

HAIR:

Smoky-white, and bound in a neat tail bound by a leather strap, that lets it fall below his shoulder-blades. He keeps a relatively clean head of hair, though its cut is uneven in places and its ends somewhat frayed, as if he trims it with a blade that lost its bite long ago.

EYE:

They stand out, and are likely the first thing that one might notice upon meeting him. An eerily pale yellow shine sees them with a dull glow, and it isn’t uncommon for them to flit around erratically. It's no twitch borne from anxiousness or a lack of focus, but instead a desire to keep the goings-on of his environment tracked and well in the forefront of his mind.

HEIGHT:

Six fulms, or thereabouts.

BUILD:

Bitter conflict and bloody strife are abiding companions in the world beyond the civilized borders of man-made laws, and it was this savage crucible that bore Sekh'a. His shape is that of a consummate hunter, the dedication of his life in pursuit of martial perfection producing a physique trim and toned. Broad of shoulders and sturdy of limbs, with lean musculature packed tightly behind the stretch of swarthy flesh, Sekh'a's build satisfies the condition for an ideal predator's frame, suitable at stalking prey for long stretches of time, which is a source of great pride. From the jaggedly strewn scars that decorate his skin to the coarse, and calloused flesh of his hands, Sekh'a appears both well-seasoned, and well-traveled—and no stranger at all to turmoil.

DISTINGUISHING MARKS:

A mask of stygian warpaint smeared across his eyes, and he’s not often—if ever—seen without it. This is one of the few things that he’s meticulous about insofar as his appearance goes.

His wounds are left to heal on their own without the aid of magic to dull pain or whisk away evidence of a misstep, and are seen as a prideful thing, displayed openly. They serve as a roadmap detailing every deed—good or ill—that has shaped his life, and the gnarled, and jagged evidence of past encounters with both man and beast stretch over his arms, belly, and back. Claw, tooth and blade make up the bulk of the unsightly marks that bite into his flesh.

Tattoos are present and compete for territory with the above mentioned scar tissue, though these are far less prominent insofar as quantity. Fanciful line-work of markings that are just as easily mundane as they are magical encircle in his wrists and a wolves fanged and gnashing, bloodied maw that drips from a prior feast, sits over the space atop his right set of ribs.

Personal ––– –

PROFESSION: Hunter, trapper, tracker, collector. HOBBIES:  Cartography, drawing, alchemy, gambling, people-watching. LANGUAGES:  Eorzean common. RESIDENCE: Gridania, presently, though he travels frequently. BIRTHPLACE: Eastern Shroud. RELIGION: Menphina, the Lover. FEARS: Becoming complacent, loss of control, falling into a mundane routine, too much quiet in his life.

Relationships ––– –

SPOUSE: None. CHILDREN:  None. PARENTS: Dead and buried, as far as he’s aware, or keen to speak of. SIBLINGS:  Dead and buried, as far as he’s aware, or keen to speak of. OTHER RELATIVES: None worth discussing. ACQUAINTANCES: Sekh’a keeps the status and identities of those he has dealings with confidential.

Traits ––– –

extroverted / introverted / in between disorganized / organized / in between close minded / open-minded / in between calm / anxious / in between disagreeable / agreeable / in between cautious / reckless / in between patient / impatient / in between outspoken / reserved / in between leader / follower / in between empathic / unempathic / in between optimistic / pessimistic / in between traditional / modern / in between hard-working / lazy / in between cultured / uncultured / in between loyal / disloyal / unknown / in between faithful / unfaithful / unknown / in between

Additional Information ––– –

SMOKING HABIT: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess DRUGS: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess ALCOHOL: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

Flaws

moody | short-tempered (when drunk) | emotionally unstable | whiny controlling | conceited | possessive | paranoid | liar impatient | cowardly | bitter | selfish | power-hungry greedy | lazy | judgmental | forgetful | impulsive spiteful | stubborn | sadistic | petty | unlucky

Strengths

honest | trustworthy | thoughtful | caring | brave patient | selfless | ambitious | tolerant | lucky intelligent | confident | focused | humble | generous merciful | observant | wise | clever | charming cheerful | optimistic | decisive | adaptive | calm | loyal

RP Hooks ––– –

Trophy Hunter

The thrill of the chase is what truly fuels Sekh'a, be his prey beast or man. Beast slaying and particularly bounty hunting are bread and butter, part and parcel of his life, the latter bringing him contact and working for unsavory individuals. It keeps him flush with coin however, to fund other aspects of his life. Though he ordinarily prefers to work alone—treating this endeavor like it's some intimate and venerated, holy rite—he has been known in the past to take on an accompanying of fellow warriors, if the target is of a particularly volatile nature.

When working with others however, he does demand first choice of trophy, only rarely waiving this perceived 'right'.

Chasing Shadows

When mindless beasts threatening the livelihood of the common folk and debtors skipping town with only the shirts on their backs fail to satisfy the itch, Sekh'a seeks to tackle more vicious prey—voidsent. It's of no surprise then that one of Sekh'a's primary interests is that of that great and fallen empire of eld, Mhach, and the legacy they left behind in this world regarding these otherworldly horrors. A rumor churning within the mill amidst the city-states' occult inclined persons state that there is an individual with an insatiable appetite for such relics, though the reasons behind this search vary person to person, day to day. Some speak of him as some ravenous, maligned beast that seeks to follow in the accursed footsteps of void-mages and demon summoners, gobbling up every speck of forbidden power he can, enslaving these eldritch abominations to do his will. Others describe him as a virtuous—if delusional—soul trying to save the world, by keeping the threat of this collection that he's amassed under stern lock and key. The truth may lie very well somewhere in the middle. Tomes, idols, and other paraphernalia or anything resembling a lead to where such items can be found are said to fetch a heavy purse of gil, they say—or a suitably acceptable trade.

Tribal Roots

Though by and large disassociated with his clan as of late—and rarely chatty about them if asked—some small part of Sekh'a does still enjoy the notion of reconnecting with others still adhering to the lifestyle.

Misfits & Malcontents

Sekh'a opens up to few, and allows even less to glimpse even a glimmer of his personal affairs. These types, however, tend to be the ones that he gets on with most; those that don’t fit into societal norms and who fall through the cracks. Pariahs and those deemed untouchable need look no further in their search of a willing ear to listen to their stories—their great tribulations—and if he's moved enough by them, they might find a helping hand on offer.

OOC Section ––– –

Hello, hi. Here’s the feller that I’m playing primarily on XIV, Crystal datacenter, and he’s going to be occupying this space with his WoW counterpart. Much of my OOC stuff is already detailed and or being added to on my carrd, so I’ll just go ahead and link that.

Link to carrd HERE

[scarjarbinks]

(1) The Fool’s Journey: A Star Wars Story

Episode One A Clown, And That's All

Spires of apartments, each ubiquitous in their design, flowed like crude circuits along an ancient motherboard. Following tight alleys in the way a hawk-bat would delicately chase the scent of granite slugs, Vrina—a mauve Mikkian who favored a headdress to obscure his head-tendrils—navigated the dank streets as if guided by intimate knowledge of the sprawling maze.

With his presence masked by way of heel-toe footfall and springing steps, he successfully traversed the ground level of Coruscant without much interference—save, perhaps, the preference of avoiding detritus that would penetrate his worn leather boots.

A cramped alleyway, its stones glossy from fallen humidity, spat the wanderer into the shoulder of a well-traveled intersection. In less time it would take to light a death stick, Vrina arrived at the entrance of Gil's Gab as an intruder of a group that had converged on top of him. He was polite in the way most strangers are: a brief nod or a disingenuous smile. Two Human women and an Iridonian male were already under the influence of some unidentifiable and ostensibly trendy drug.

They kept their wits about them as they spoke with the Trandoshan bouncer. He grumbled in Basic, "Invite only tonight."

With confidence stemming from the ether, the emboldened Iridonian raised his chest and lifted his chin. "I'm—we're friends with Wegil."

"Old myth that all Zabraks know each other." The stiff guardian severed the conversation without another thought.

Vrina broke from the group while the two women fruitlessly argued with their companion. The Trandoshan peered down to the heretofore silent man. "Good evening," the Mikkian bowed his head but maintained eye contact. "I actually do know Wegil, but I'm not too sure how much you believe me after that guy. Do you, erm, have a list?" He searched the bouncer's attire. No tablet, just a DL-44.

"Name?"

"Uh, Vrina Hon. Impressive that you can remember all of those names without, y'know, a list."

"Smarter than most of my kind. Speaking," his eyes reduced by a fraction. "Why is a Mikkian so far from home?"

Vrina crossed his arms and cocked a hip. He was not offended by the amount of venom that laced the bouncer's tone. Most transients would pose the same question for a Trandoshan who appears to have been conned into a low-paying job. "I'm here to perform comedy."

A concave of seedy individuals, each imbibing and shouting. The Mikkian traversed with soft steps through Gil's claustrophobic aisles. Though he recognized very few patrons, some were, of course, impossible to ignore due to their status. Such entities dealt with business practices he would rather steer clear from, yet a pull of his excited consciousness understood when to bow as a show of respect and when to simply ignore them.

Vrina passed the stage where he was to perform and waved at the Ithorian drummer—a talented fellow by the name of Bup Nolot who rattled away upon two snares and three cymbals of various sizes. He appeared too-focused to respond, perhaps intent on keeping a steady rhythm or altogether refused to associate himself with a glorified jester.

The backstage was a small respite from the bombardment of intermingling dialects and languages, though it was only an inch-thick drape that separated him from the rest of the club. He did not expect to be alone. Vrina was meant to open for a favored comedienne dubbed Real by the regulars of Gil's and her absence meant he would potentially have to fill her time slot.

A knock on the wall behind him. With his eyes still glued to the audience, Vrina greeted Wegil with a click of the tongue. "Looks like I'm the headliner."

A copper-hued Zabrak approached the Mikkian from behind. He joined Vrina in scanning the sea of flushed faces and spitting lips. "Do you have enough material?" The low-scratch of his voice collided with the amount of noise that polluted the club.

"Eh, well," the comedian took in a sharp breath and crossed his arms. "Let's just hope that they don't remember the first five jokes from last week. Anybody I have to worry about?"

Wegil frowned. "In what way?"

"You know. Pirates, ganglords, politicians. Anybody notable?"

"Only you would rope a politician in with pirates. Since you mentioned it, sure." The Zabrak leaned to the left and gestured a nod outward. It was as if a beacon shone from the center of the crescent-shaped bar: an antsy male Human nursed eight ounces of scarlet liquid with hunched shoulders. He kept his head down, uninterested in those who took residence next to him yet kept a subtle conversation with the barkeep.

Vrina shook his head. "I have a feeling he wasn't invited."

"He's certainly found his way in here, though. He hasn't said a single word to anyone other than the bartender, one of his own kind. I would prefer not to deal with any acts of speciesism tonight. You and Bup are the only two who can see the entire club wall-to-wall."

The Mikkian thought back to the drummer's intense focus and exhaled. "So you'll pay me for my services of doing twice the work as a comedian and taking on an additional role as a spy." He sucked on his teeth, head bobbing while mentally creating an addendum to the first half of his set.

Wegil clasped Vrina on the shoulder and forced eye contact. "I'm not paying you extra for the simple task of paying attention. If anything or anybody suspicious worms their way in…" The club owner paused and drew his head away. "Try to work in a joke about me. I won't take it personally."

"You're acting as if that wasn't half of my set. Right, understood, but what about covering for Real?"

With a sniff, the Zabrak pulled away and nodded twice. Soon, the Mikkian was once again left alone and felt the weight of the near future pressing into his skin like the heat of too-many suns orbiting a desert planet.

Vrina did not have much time to prepare for the amount of improvisation thrusted upon him. The emcee of the night, a stocky Rodian, hyped those who were listening into an enthusiastic applause. After a lengthy introduction presented in choppy Basic, he introduced the Mikkian. As they exchanged the microphone, the reptilian whispered a few words of encouragement: "If you are not funny, I will take over. No problem." He backed away with two thumbs up.

The initial warm-up dragged on as expected with very few individuals chuckling and pulling the attention of their friends to the stage. With more eyes on him, he began to feel at ease. "Everyone's heard the buzz around the eff-ess-ess, right?" He pursed his lips and made eye contact with as many who cared to pay attention. "A federation of only six systems. What an arbitrary number! How are we supposed to check if that's even correct when they won't give up who the systems are?"

For the first time all night, the Human at the bar spun his stool to face the comedian. Though the lights had been dimmed, he could make out a few key features: jet black hair and a matching beard. The Mikkian did not hesitate to continue. "If they were really trying to be intimidating, they might as well have said six-hundred. Sixteen would instill more terror for a terrorist organization!"

A quarter of the audience responded with a lukewarm chuckle—Bup's drumline accompaniment made sure the comedian's jokes never truly fell flat. A figure entered his field of vision to the right. One passive glance drank in the sight of Wegil who did not seem to find any of the Mikkian's jokes humorous in the least.

It was time for his improvisation muscles to be flexed. "Well, you want to keep the numbers small, I guess. Zipping around in taxis would be more cost efficient than buying fuel." A tight grin appeared on the Human's face. Vrina prevented himself from paying too much attention to him. "No need for a base of operations either, really. Just rent a hotel room or, perhaps, meet at a club."

A movement in the back caught Vrina's attention. The Human exited from the bar to the bathroom, pushing his way past a drunk Twi'lek who gestured unkindly to the man. The energy of the room became dense and the once idle chatter fell away to usher in silence. It was as if he had captured the attention of every single patron.

His throat closed, but he knew that, as a comedian, there could never be dead air. "Everybody here knows our lovely host, Wegil, yeah? Let's be honest, of everyone on-planet, he would be the one to house the eff-ess-ess. Watered down coolers to keep them drunk and drain them off their coffer, ill-tempered Trandoshans to keep an eye on their credit pouch." Vrina began to wonder how much of his material was rooted in truth. The Zabrak unwound from his position backstage and navigated through the back. "Safest place in all of… All of—"

A pressure settled into Vrina's skull and he promptly returned the microphone to its stand as Wegil approached the bathroom with a drawn blaster, one bouncer trailing behind him. The Mikkian hurriedly waved a good-bye to Bup as the audience began to boo them both. His lungs inflated as he twisted through the narrow tunnel behind the stage and was forced to stop by way of another Trandoshan bouncer.

"You need to finish your, what is it, comedy," the hulking figure encroached on Vrina's personal space. "If you can even call it that. Wegil's already sent the credits to your account, so I'd recommend—"

A blast shook the lobby and a wave of truncated screams pinched the Trandoshan's focus. With the bouncer's lowered guard, Vrina slipped through what little space the corridor offered and sprinted toward the stage-left exit. If his movements were deft enough, he could remain under the cover of darkness for long enough to join the growing crowd of patrons that also attempted escape.

Rubble could be made out from within the thick plume of smoke that emanated from the bathroom. Vrina slowed to a stop and examined the situation. Two bodies writhed on the ground and another was motionless. He took stock of who was left in the club: half of the patrons, the remaining bouncers… The bartender was already gone.

As the smoke began to clear, Vrina approached the center of the lobby and squinted at the bodies on the ground. A familiar skull-shape, horned and round. He debated whether he should usher the Zabrak out to safety or—

Vrina was lifted from the ground by a pair of scaly, calloused hands. The Trandoshan heaved the comedian forward and watched as he rolled over a table and barreled into several chairs. Broken glass stuck to the Mikkian's simple outfit, a few shards hid in exposed skin.

"He infiltrated our place of business," the bulky reptilian guard sneered and stepped forward. Vrina attempted to straighten himself to a seated position. Two more bouncers slunk in from the corners of the club and approached the Mikkian as well. "And staged an attack!"

"I—what? Me?" Vrina rotated his torso to face the other Trandoshans and experienced a sharp pain in his ribcage. "Ah, dosh." He seethed and grabbed his side. "H-how could I have set off an explosive if I was up on the stage?"

The main Trandoshan signaled the others to stop. He looked down at the pathetic Mikkian with racing eyes.

"Also, whoever did that is doing all of you a favor. Now, listen to me," he exhaled as the guards began to close in once again. "You are all much too talented of warriors to be stuck in here all day catering drunkards. What have you been doing all this time? What's your motivation?"

There was a moment of hesitation, though his gaze never fell away from Vrina. For a moment, there appeared to be a modicum of empathy that flashed in the Trandoshan's eyes. "We've been waiting to tear someone apart."

The Mikkian flinched and swung both palms to defend himself. A gasp from the Trandoshan as a gust of wind knocked him off of his feet. Vrina's brow furrowed but there was very little time for him to ruminate as the remaining bouncers enclosed him with clawed hands outstretched.

Several bleats of a small caliber blaster sounded from the debris-laden corner of the club. Either bouncer roared when struck in their armor, another in his arm. With their luck pressed, they each drew their heavy blasters and scattered to find cover from upturned tables. Vrina spent this time erecting himself to his feet and so did the once-fallen Trandoshan.

Now careful of his enemy, the bouncer kept his distance with two fists balled and ready for use. Vrina blinked and did the same, though both palms were flat and directed in the same fashion as before. No matter how many times he mentally willed himself to throw wind, nothing as exciting occurred. He began to doubt that it had ever taken place—a trick of the eyes, an anomaly of a pressure shift within the building.

While he was distracted processing the anomaly, the firefight behind him resulted in the dropping of both guards. A bright voice shouted: "Duck!"

Without a second thought, Vrina shrunk to the floor and watched as the second of two red bolts struck the remaining bouncer in the center of his forehead.

For a one brief moment, the Mikkian considered snatching the DL-44 from the Trandoshan's holster to take charge of the situation, to feel as if he were not helpless. The same voice called to him with an edge that convinced Vrina the scenario was not quite over. "Are you armed?"

"N-no."

"Well, why not?"

Vrina turned to face the same Human he had been instructed to spy on earlier. Almond-shaped eyes and well-groomed, about the same height and body type as he was, though somewhat more muscular. "So I should, erm, get a blaster?"

The man rolled his eyes and turned the heel of his weapon toward the comedian. It was a feeble blaster with slender design, uniform in color, but did not seem to reflect a sheen. A perfect weapon to conceal. "I assume a Jedi would know how to use one of these."

"A—" The device was shoved in his hand and the mysterious man excused himself to fetch the much more powerful DL-44 from the fell bouncer.

"It's probably a good thing they didn't know how to handle one of these, huh?" Sucking his teeth, the man looked down the unmodified sights and nodded. "I mean, I barely know how to use one of these, sure, but they were just awful."

Vrina straightened his wrist after acclimating to the surprising weight of the small blaster. "What exactly did you just call me?"

The man threw a humored side-eye at the Mikkian. "C'mon. It'd be nice to have someone who knows what they're doing by my side."

"But… I'm—oh, dosh." He watched the Human step away while offering a tight hand signal that meant nothing to the comedian.

Kept crouched and insecure, Vrina trailed behind the Human with the blaster limp and pointed to the floor. In the many patrons' effort to escape, they had made quite a mess: shattered cups and plates, food tracked under heel, abandoned death stick cartridges. The unconscious form of Wegil caused the Mikkian to pause his trail.

"Do you know him?" The Human kept his weapon pointed to the only way in or out. An expectation of being ambushed was palpable. "You have to let me know now if this is someone worth saving. Like, now."

The truth bit at Vrina's tongue. He wanted to be honest and admit that he knew very little about the Zabrak, but the fear that he would be tracked down by a vengeful conduit of illicit affairs forced his hand. "Yeah, he's worth it." The man gave him a signal to fetch the club owner.

Calling out in just above a hushed voice, "I'm surprised we haven't run into the see-ess-eff."

"Right." Vrina heaved Wegil up and balanced him on his feet. "I-find-it-surprising…" He growled while ushering the unconscious body to the door. "How-heavy-people…" A moment to catch his breath. "Actually are."

The man ignored his sentiment. "We have one shot. I'm really going to need you to muster all the strength you have." He slipped a rod-shaped comlink from his jacket pocket. A pleasant chirp sounded when he began to transmit. "Rokkna-1, critical mission failure. Resort to plan-B, but with the pick-up coordinates of Plan-A."

A woman sighed as a response. "Always with the plan-B. Copy, Rokkna-2."

The individual identified as Rokkna-1 turned to Vrina and flashed a grin. "Don't worry, the mission failure wasn't exclusively, entirely your fault."

"I didn't think it was. Wait, was it?"

"Ready up your friend."

With a shake of the head, the Mikkian stood Wegil upright and braced him. "Where are we going? What's happening?"

The whirring of an incoming shuttle paired with sirens that belonged to that of the Coruscant Security Force. "You'll be back in time for breakfast. On five."

Vrina's heart rattled in his chest. Under his breath, "Dosh."

The feminine voice called in, but the sound was muffled while the comlink was tucked in the man's jacket pocket. "Clear, Rokkna-1."

"Nevermind—FIVE!" The Human set off through the front door with large strides. His shoulder checked the door and swung it open with enough force to allow his new companion the chance to exit the building's threshold and into the dark street.

A shuttle with seamless and bulbous edges hovered several feet above ground, its ramp already dropped and open for entrance. The bearded man hopped on board with an effortless bound but fell to his knees and spun to help the Mikkian and Zabrak aboard.

The excited but passive ambiance of each street in the intersection was interrupted by the aggressive whine of hidden speeders. Rokkna-1 demanded the Zabrak first and Vrina agreed, shoving the body onto the ramp with one final expression of strength.

With the CSF seconds away, the transport shuttle began lifting away from the ground. The pilot spoke through the comlink, but there was too much distance for the Mikkian to make out any one word. The Human disappeared inside of the hull for a handful of seconds. Vrina's chest seized as if a deadly poison had finally taken hold of him.

With the ramp now several feet above his head, he could just barely jump to grab on. His feet kicked the air, his fingers without a decent grip. The first round of blue bolts swept by him but missed by mere inches.

"Hold on, friend!" Rokkna-1 returned with a silver can in his right hand. He activated the device and rolled it off the ramp while extending an arm to lift Vrina onboard.

As soon as it struck the ground, the canister popped and began to spray a viscous white smoke to obscure the underside of the ship; flashes of blue looked like lightning trapped in dense clouds. Once the Mikkian had been pulled in and was comfortable enough, the ramp inhaled and sealed with a pressurized click.