#Hey he at least still has that cloak of shadows that his travelling companion (Call me D then.) gave him to help hide his not time appropri

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 171

Danny would like everyone to know it was a complete accident. Look, normally he was really good at not altering the timeline! He was! 

But the dude was definitely not in the right Time, and he had to get his trust which took so long, like damn he thought he had anxiety. Seriously though, kevlar in the 1700s? Yeah that wasn’t right, and Peepaw always complained about the messes that the speedsters caused, so he was trying to prevent a mess by tugging the dude away and helping him out. 

Falling in love maybe a little, was not in the plan. But honestly the man had a worse sense of self preservation than he did as a teen and was also straight up adorable, in a wet cat  who could kill you sort of way. 

So maybe he helped the dude grab a child that was going to be drowned. It wasn’t like anyone else saw them! Even if similar situations might’ve happened a few different times. 

Still, no one saw them! 

So why is there now a small cult who worships the Shadowed one and Radiant one, aka his companion (who would not give his name save for B, which, fair, probably didn’t want to accidentally wreck the timeline either) and well, him?! At least they worship them as guardians of children, but uh. Should he maybe, perhaps, fix this…? 

[the-l-spacer]

Summary: In which Madeleine's latest attempt to hash things out with Espresso gets a little... out of hand.

This is my first cookie run fic i. genuinely can’t believe im writing for this game now. Anyways, hope ya like it!!

- 

He sees the knight striding towards him, spotless armour clinking smartly with each step he takes, cloak billowing ever-so-slightly behind him.

His lip curls, practically a reflex.

“Espresso. Do you have a moment?” Madeleine's voice, like his appearance, is meticulously crafted to capture the attention of anyone in his vicinity. A deep, resonant baritone that carries authority, brooks no room for disagreement, least of all disagreement from a particular surly practitioner of Coffee Magic.

Or at least, that’s what Madeleine likes to think. For all his chivalrous acts and airs seem to have no effect on Espresso in the slightest, who simply sighs and rolls his dark, bespectacled eyes.

“Do me a favour; skip the pretence that participation in this conversation is optional, and get to the point. I have research that needs attending to.”

Perhaps a few months ago, Espresso’s brusque reply would have stopped Madeleine in his tracks, wiped the genial smile off his face. But as it is, they’ve spent far too much time together (unwillingly, on Espresso’s part) for the other to be fazed by mere unfriendliness. So he simply barrels on as if Espresso had never spoken. “It appears as if that young band of cookies are keen on having us join their party.”

As one, they glance over to the campsite a little ways away, where Gingerbrave and Chilli Pepper are engaged in a mock-swordfight, wielding pieces of gathered firewood, with Wizard, Strawberry and Custard cheering on. Gingerbrave rushes forward, ‘sword’ held aloft, but Chilli Pepper sidesteps his attack, and before his momentum can carry him too far, grabs the scruff of his collar, and turns him to face her. “Sloppy work, kid. I could catch that coming from a mile away. Next time, try-” She pauses mid sentence, noticing Espresso and Madeleine’s gazes. She winks, and gives a two-fingered salute. “Hey! Wanna watch me spar with a buncha kids? There’s plenty of room on that log over there, but just a little warning, I charge adult spectators.”

Madeleine waves a hand. “No need to relieve our pockets just yet, friend Chilli Pepper. Espresso and I are perfectly content watching from afar.”

“And besides, we have better things to do,” Espresso adds, “Like being corralled by a paladin into having pointless conversations.” The last bit, he aims at Madeleine, who’s response is to grin wider.

If the irony in Espresso’s statement registers to Chilli Pepper, she doesn’t show it, and simply shrugs. “Don’t let me interrupt. You boys might wanna head a little further away to have that ‘pointless conversation’ though, it’s probably gonna get noisy up in this joint.”

“An excellent idea! My humblest thanks!” Madeleine sweeps into an exaggerated bow, and takes Espresso by the elbow. “My compatriot and I shall head a little further into the woods for our chat.”

Custard perks up at that, and shouts, “Be careful! There might still be cake monsters running around, and as king, I can’t let my subjects be hurt!”

“Not to worry, we’re more than capable of defending ourselves. If our previous encounters with those beasts suggested anything...”

As Madeleine talks, Espresso discretely tries to wriggle free from the hand on his elbow, but his attempts prove futile, Madeleine’s grip is loose but firm, forming a little cage around his arm.

He lets his arm go limp, and when the grasp loosens slightly in response, he flicks his free hand, around which (unbeknownst to the jabbering knight) shadows had been gathering for quite some time.

A tendril of magic whips around and strikes Madeleine’s wrist.

“-And as Knight of the Madeleine House, I was trained since I was but a little cookie, much like your merry band, to- ah!” When the tendril connects with a small thwack, he releases Espresso, jerking away as if burned (in actuality, the magic was really just a moderately heated slap. Espresso didn’t want to do any serious damage to Madeleine, after all.)

The seemingly permanent smile on the knight’s face falters, just for a second, and Espresso allows himself a moment of schadenfreude.

“Is... is everything okay, Madeleine?” Strawberry pipes up from her spot on the log.

“Quite alright, quite alright.” The ten-carat smile is back in full force, and once again, he waves his (non-injured) hand airily, though Espresso notes with some satisfaction the displeased side glance Madeleine shoots at him.

Espresso’s face pulls into a smile of his own, falsely sweet. “Well. Shall we be off, then?” He begins walking into the woods. True, he would much rather be tucked away in some quiet corner, poring over magical scrolls, but if he has to be subjected to this... chat, at least he can try to have some fun while doing so. Make Madeleine regret initiating contact, make him trail behind for once.

And sure enough, Madeleine follows after him, making long strides to catch up.

As they retreat into the forest, Gingerbrave shouts, “Come back in time for dinner! We’re having sweet jelly stew!”

“We’ll be there,” Madeleine replies, not needing to raise his voice for it to carry across the clearing where they had set up camp.

The other cookies give their final waves, and return to sparring, the sounds of cheering and wood striking wood fading the deeper in Espresso and Madeleine travel.

- 

Eventually, the noises from the campsite fade entirely, replaced by the chirping of birds, and the soft rustling of trees. The last of the day’s light dapples through the jelly forest’s leaves, and Espresso might have called the whole scene pleasant, if not for the cookie next to him.

They come to a stop in a forest clearing. “Is this far enough for your liking, oh Knight-Commander of House Madeleine?”

Madeleine leans against a tree, the light glinting off his armour. “You know, the attitude really isn’t necessary, and neither,” he cocks his head, glossy hair spilling over one shoulder, his reprimanding smile akin to a teacher lecturing a particularly irritating student, “was the use of dark magic back there.”

Espresso smirks. “Ah. Have I discovered your weakness? Is the pride of House Madeleine scared of a little magic? I just meant for it to tickle, really.”

A scowl begins to form on Madeleine’s face, before he schools it back into careful neutrality. “You must be intelligent enough to grasp my meaning. It’s not the act itself, it’s the…” He gestures loosely in the air, his right hand still slightly red, “... the spirit of it all. Cookies who fight together shouldn’t turn on one another. It simply isn’t right.”

“Mmm. Mm hmm. Of course it isn’t.” Espresso, in a bid to minimize the dirt from the forest floor getting on his robes, opts to hover just a little above the ground, and Madeleine has to crane his neck to meet his gaze. “And I’m sure wrestling the cookie you’re supposed to be fighting with into the woods is so much more excusable.”

Madeleine bristles. “You wouldn’t have agreed to this conversation otherwise, as you’ve made so abundantly clear in the past. All I did was ensure you wouldn’t be able to weasel your way out of the inevitable yet another time.”

“What about our current situation makes you think this conversation is inevitable?” Espresso snaps. “I’ve told you time and time again I don’t care for your company. Our paths crossed once, we travelled together briefly to achieve our own goals, and parted ways. We work together acceptably, and we tolerate each other, barely. What more is there to be said between us?”

“Well, for one,” Madeleine says, standing just a bit straighter, as if to deliver a set of prepared lines, “I was telling you, before we were interrupted, that Gingerbrave and his fellows seem eager to have us as travelers alongside them.”

“Yes. And?”

“And I’m sure you are as keen as I am on accepting their offer.”

Espresso stiffens. He hates cookies who presume things about him, and more than that, he hates when those presumptions are right. After a moment, he bites out, “Even if I was, what of it.”

“We’ll be traveling together once again. Serving as their protectors, and all that.”

“So what? As I said, we’ve travelled in each other’s companies before.”

“Yes, but I believe this will be our longest journey yet. They seek answers, a way to defeat the evil forces rising, and this is no easy feat.”

“I seek no such thing,” Espresso scoffs, folding his arms. “I only know that they’re searching for the Forgotten Academy, and that particular locality has a library I’ve been meaning to peruse for a while. I plan to travel with them until that point, where we will then part ways.”

“Even then, according to my maps the Forgotten Academy is weeks away. Maybe a month. Months, if we keep up our current pace. A considerable amount of time that allows for sour dough to spoil further. I simply think it… unwise, to allow things between us two to reach such a point.” Having finally said his piece, Madeleine pushes himself off the roll cake trunk, and starts towards Espresso, open palm outstretched.

No, not again. They had done this dance before, and Espresso isn’t planning to retrace those steps. He whizzes backward, out of Madeleine’s reach.

“I’m not interested in becoming friends, knight,” he spits. “And I tire of your constant overtures.”

Madeleine’s hand returns to his side in an impatient motion. “Must you insist on being this- this difficult?” He asks, voice fraught with frustration. “It is a simple offer. Put our differences aside and work together amicably, if only to to make our journey more tolerable for us and our companions.”

“Ahhh but there’s the rub, Madeleine,” Espresso retorts, “I’m afraid our differences are too great to reconcile. If that is all you have for me, I think I’ll be returning to camp. I would say it’s been a pleasure, but… you know better.”

He makes to leave, floating quickly away to leave the knight behind, but catches a blur of movement from the corner of his eye. Before he can react, Madeline moves forward, his armour and shield glowing. With a flash, the shield comes down on the edge of Espresso’s long, dark cloak, pinning it to the forest floor.

Both of them hear the telltale sound of ripping fabric.

“Don’t move.” Madeleine warns.

Espresso’s vision goes red. He gathers the shadows to him, wreathing his clenched fists in black swirls of magic.

He doesn’t move.

A pause, then the shield lifts.

Espresso doesn’t wait to rush backward, heading straight for Madeleine. This time, it’s the knight that finds himself unprepared, as Espresso grabs him, and with the help of his magic, lifts him in the air, slamming him against the trunk of the nearest tree.

“Don’t. Touch. Me,” he growls.

Their faces are close enough now that Espresso sees the tiniest twitch of fear in Madeleine’s expression. He doesn’t yield, keeping him pinned to the trunk.

Madeleine speaks, holding both hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Now, now, I admit I was rather hasty, but there really is no need for-“

“- doesn’t feel nice, does it? Being trapped against your will?” Espresso cuts him off.

“Listen. I’m sorry things had to come to that point.”

Espresso sneers. Just as he predicted, Madeleine’s ‘apology’ is anything but. His mouth forms the syllables, but like a pedestrian one accidentally jostles on the street, his ‘sorry’ is merely a formality, said to hear the sound of his own voice.

Espresso doesn’t buy it, is what he’s saying.

“Save it. Save your pithy little apologies and insincere attempts at friendship for some other cookie.”

Madeleine’s face twists in indignation. “I’m not being insincere!”

Espresso drops him unceremoniously, the knight’s armour clattering when he lands on the soft earth. He tries not to betray his own fatigue, both in mind and body. Madeleine is heavy after all, weighed down further by his armour and weapons, making the act of holding him aloft (even aided by magic) one that had taken a not-insignificant toll on him. His feet touch down lightly on the ground, the glowing aura around him fades.

“Oh, spare me,” Espresso says coldly. “Every action, every toss of your hair or flick of your cloak, every word that comes out of your mouth betrays your insincerity.”

Having gathered himself, Madeleine finally snaps, drawing his sword from its scabbard with a metallic hiss. “How dare you.” His voice, a dangerous murmur, grows louder and louder, until it carries to the treetops. “I don’t know what I have done to offend you so. I attempted to be friendly, and reach out with offers of peace, as my family taught me to do for years, but you insist on rebuffing me, sullying my good name with your.. your insolence!”

The sword is pointed at Espresso’s throat, now, and the magician takes a careful step backward, keeping an eye on the gleaming blade. Madeleine doesn’t seem to notice, however, as he barks, “I’ve been lenient in the past, but as a cookie of honour, I can’t let such words continue to slide. The Divine, protect me!”

Celestial light bathes the forest clearing, surrounding Madeleine in its radiance. He lunges forward and swings his sword, a ray of light arcing from its blade. Espresso, caught unawares, finds himself knocked back, sent stumbling to catch his footing.

He regains his balance, clutching on to a tree branch, and counters the next light ray with an explosion of coffee beans that makes Madeleine's attack fizzle out.

“You know I’m right about you,” Espresso taunts, “in fact, we both know this is all a little charade you put on, because-” he plants his feet firmly in the ground, bracing himself against a third wave of light magic. “- beneath all your bravado, your shiny armour and fancy new weapons, you are empty.”

“That’s not true!” Madeleine roars, attempting to close the distance between them. But Espresso splays his hands, and a swirling vortex forms, pulling the paladin backward and into its dark center. Madeleine staggers in pain.

“You’re just a selfish glory-seeker, as slow and soulless as the monsters that- gah!”

Dexterity had never been his strong suit, so when Madeleine’s retaliating attack comes, he doesn’t dodge quickly enough. He sees the sword swing, feels an impact across his face, before his world goes blurry.

His glasses!

A lance of panic spikes through his chest.

He can’t see. He can’t see and he can’t look for his glasses either because if he steps on them that’s it. And Madeleine will win or worse he’ll just leave him here, in the middle of the woods.

The attacks stop coming.

The forest is silent once more, but for the two cookies’ heavy breathing.

Then, Espresso hears the crunching of leaves, sees the blurry shape of Madeleine stride towards him. He readies his magic. Madeleine passes him, and bends down over a spot Espresso can’t quite see.

A familiar metallic object is pressed into his hand.

“Your glasses.”

In a flash, Espresso has them on again, and exhales in relief when the forest comes back into focus.

“I never meant to knock them over. I’m sorry.”

Espresso is about to respond, but Madeleine says, “We should not have let our discussion escalate like this.”

“I’m sorry. We?!” Espresso’s recently restored vision colours. “When it was you who dealt the first blow? You, who initiated this discussion in the first place, who-” He trails off, righteous indignation fading slightly when he sees Madeleine, who stands at arm’s length away from him, both hands resting on the pommel of his sword, his expression unreadable.

“..Yes. Fine. As allies, we shouldn’t have turned on each other like this.”

Madeleine says nothing, so Espresso continues. “But as our previous attempts at civility have shown, you are incapable of holding a conversation without trying to domineer over me, push me into situations I do not want to be in. And I… I admit that I went too far in my personal assessments of you, but the fact remains that I simply cannot work with you beyond what we already are. Allies, and nothing more.”

For the second time, Espresso begins walking back to camp. Madeleine makes no attempt to stop him. “Thank you for retrieving my glasses. Good evening.”

Before he can fully retreat into the copse of trees, he hears Madeleine’s voice, saying, “Wait.”

Espresso pauses for a moment, and continues walking.

“Wait. Please.”

The word ‘please’ sounds so strange on Madeleine’s lips, and Espresso realises he can’t recall if the cookie had ever said the word in all the time they had worked together.

He turns his head.

Madeleine is leaned against a tree, arms folded and a foot kicked up against the trunk. His face is hidden by a curtain of hair.

“You are from The Republic, yes?”

Thrown by the sudden question, Espresso says, “Yes. The both of us are.”

“You’re aware that The Republic is a peaceful nation. No conflict within its gates, no monsters to be found without.”

Where is this going? Espresso responds, “Safe, sterile, and utterly boring. I’m aware.”

“Then what,” Madeleine turns his face away from Espresso, addressing the trees, “what use do you think such a nation has for soldiers? For knights?”

Oh.

Madeleine laughs, not his usual hearty guffaw, filled to the brim with bravado, but a short and bitter exhalation. “Do you know what it’s like to be, as you called me, the ‘slow’ one, in a family of scholars and politicians? For your only prowess to be your physical strength, in a place where that skill is entirely unnecessary?”

“But the knight order you lead-”

“- is purely for show. Just cookies dressed up in shiny armour to remind the other kingdoms we’re not to be trifled with. None of them have actually seen a day of real combat outside of sparring.”

Espresso is back in the clearing, picking a position next to Madeleine so he doesn’t see his sympathetic expression.

“Then… the reason you and all the knights were sent out?”

“As I said, my mission was to seek the legendary Soul Jam that is supposed to grant us cookies eternal life. Not that anyone in the Republic really expects us to find it.”

“They wanted to get rid of you, then.”

Madeleine visibly flinches at Espresso’s words. “I wouldn’t put it so bluntly, but… yes. I’m welcome back home, of course. If I were to return, I’d be met with trumpets and fanfare, but not much else, and certainly not anything approaching respect from those who truly matter.” The knight clenches his fist. “This quest is to be my saving grace. My only purpose, and the only way one like me can conceivably bring pride to House Madeleine. The only way I can be of use”

Espresso regards Madeleine, the revelation casting the cookie in a new light.

“So.. yes, Espresso. I am a selfish glory-seeker. Perhaps I have no other choice but to be.” Madeleine’s previously ramrod-straight posture is gone, and in its place his fists are clenched, shoulders hunched inwards, his hair tumbling forward, shielding his face from view.

And a small part of Espresso feels the strangest urge to push that hair back, to place a comforting hand on the paladin’s shoulder. Anything to stop what has to be the strongest — the most annoying, surely, but the strongest nevertheless — cookie he knows from curling into himself, from hurting like this.

But he holds himself back. All he lets out is a soft, “I think I know how you feel. Not entirely, but some of it.”

Madeleine turns to look at Espresso, a blank expression on his face. “You do.”

The mage lets a spark of magic fly from his hand - a single, glowing coffee bean surrounded by dark shadow. “You have called what I do ‘black magic’ in the past.”

Madeleine, suddenly stricken, says, “I wouldn’t go so far as to call it ‘black magic’, but-”

“- Listen. You have, countless times. And it annoys me to no end, but I understand why. It does look like it, no?” He conjures more coffee beans, letting them spin in circles around him. “I’ve had this ability since I was a child. It did not come from dark origins, I did not make a pact with evil forces to obtain it, as some have believed. It simply was. My magic, like your physical strength, is a part of me.”

Madeleine simply nods.

“But people don’t understand Coffee Magic. Whenever I demonstrated my abilities, I’d be shunned, the respectable citizens of our beloved Republic saying that I was a child of Dark Enchantress Cookie.”

“Espresso…” His magic fizzles out, and now, it is his turn to look away, incapable of facing the pity that is surely in Madeleine’s gaze.

“I was barred from every magic school. I had to learn, and practice, and make it on my own. If I didn’t have Latte Cookie, I don’t know how I would have-” Espresso shakes his head. “No matter. All I am saying is that I do know how it feels, not to belong. To have to carve a place for yourself among people who can’t respect you.”

A hand settles on his shoulder, and Espresso almost flinches. He looks up, and his gaze meets Madeleine’s, earnest and apologetic. “Espresso, first and foremost, I am sorry that I ripped your cloak in trying to keep you here.”

Espresso’s eyes travel to his torn (and expensive) wizard’s cloak. “It’s fine. I’ll just have to get it repaired once we return to camp.”

Madeleine continues. “And I’m sorry, truly sorry that I misjudged you based on your magic. That I pushed when I should have respected your wishes. Respected you.”

And this time, Espresso believes Madeleine’s words. He lets his own hand creep upwards to rest over the knight’s.

He sighs. “And I apologise, too. I made undue assumptions about you, and let these assumptions colour my actions. I treated you poorly, and for that, I’m sorry.”

When their eyes meet again, it is as if the forest goes silent, nature’s rustle and hum being forgotten as the two look at each other, and for the first time, understand.

Of course, no moment can truly last, and it is Espresso who breaks the spell, gently moving Madeleine’s hand off his shoulder. “Naturally, don’t think this means I’ll let you strongarm me into doing whatever you want me to. You still irritate me. Incessantly.”

Madeleine chuckles. “Naturally. Besides, I do not imagine such actions will be necessary in the future. I think we understand each other perfectly clearly, now.”

Espresso lets a grin creep across his face. Rolling his eyes, he says, “Don’t assume you know everything based on a tidbit of my past. I encompass multitudes, Knight-Commander.”

“In turn, I request that you not write me off just yet,” Madeleine responds teasingly. “I may not know everything about you, but I would be very interested to,”

Both their eyes widen, Madeleine realising the forwardness of his statement. “That is. I will give you the space you need, certainly, but if you ever feel like-”

“- Wait. Stop.” Espresso takes a breath, lets it out. “I- I do feel the same way. You’re a good fighter, and I did not let myself give you a fair chance.”

He crosses the short distance between them, and extends a hand. “I’m Espresso Cookie of The Republic. Founder of the Coffee Magic School. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Madeleine regards the outstretched hand in wonder.

"... Don't make a big deal of it, knight."

He puffs out his chest, taking Espresso’s hand. “And I’m Madeleine Cookie of The Republic. Servant of The Divine, Knight Comm-” He stops himself, clears his throat. Then, he smiles and simply says, “I’m Madeleine Cookie. It’s an honour to get to know you.”

[moonshadow0]

See? Even elves have flaws!

"Come Tári, faster!"

Watching the end of her cloak whip around a tree and change direction, I scrambled to catch up. Dodging one branch, I immediately got a mouthful of leaves from another.

"Auggh! I'm trying to the best of my ability!", I shouted, spitting out my leaves in frustration. Ahead of me by at least three trees, ran my sister in all but blood; Aredhel. She's tall, strong, fast, and annoyingly better at traveling in the trees than I am.

The trees are starting to thin, I have to concentrate. Left, right, down, up, jump!  Hello hey! I'm doing pretty well!  "Careful sister!" Now if I can just keep this up I'll— *WHACK* a branch hit me square in the face, my legs flew out from under me and I ended up falling  backward through the branches of a rather tall oak tree. I grabbed at the leafy limbs around me in an attempt to slow my decent, managing to bang into twice as many branches as one normally would. Sensing that the ground was getting close, I rolled and went into a summersault. Or, I would have, had I not rolled off a steep bank. Unable to stop rolling, I did my best to keep from hitting as many obstacles as possible. The only thing that prevented me from flying all the way down the hill, was an (in)opportunely placed bush that I did not manage to dodge. A large painful bush. "OW!! Da-FAGh! OF ALL THE FUDGING—!" Straightening up, I cut my off at the sight of a path. Or rather, who was on the path. Rac ha. A tall human, cloaked in grays and greens. We stood staring at each other for a moment, before he burst out in hysterical laughter. "Oh goodness! I've never seen an elf fall out of a tree before! This is too good!" Narrowing my eyes, I watched as he laughed on, seemingly oblivious to my growing irritation. Just as I was about to open my mouth and probably say something stupid, Aredhel dropped down beside me with a mischievous smile. "I see you found a friend. What happened Tári? That branch was right in front of you!"

"Yes, well. He's not my friend, and I was busy thinking." My answer was clipped, as I eyed our new "friend" who's laughing fit was coming to an end. Aredhel smiled, shaking her head, "Ai, Tári! You concentrate too much on where your feet are going, and you forget to check where your head is. Nevertheless, it will be dark in a few hours. How about you get yourself out of that bush, and we go introduce ourselves to our laughing compatriot." With that, she started off toward the path.

After giving what Aredhel considered a "proper" introduction, we found out that the human called himself Grey. I was still miffed about him laughing at me and I honestly doubted that was his real name. When I told him as much however, he replied with a glint in his eye, that his name was his own and he did not feel obligated to share it with "little elven girls who like to fall out of trees on a whim". The conversation would likely have ended there with my fist, had Aredhel not quickly turned the subject to the matter of finding the nearest town. Eventually what happened was that Grey ended up traveling with us because the nearest town was still to a day and a half's journey. And despite my opinion on the matter, Aredhel made the point that "it’s been over one hundred years since we’ve been here last, so he knows the lay of the land around here better than we do, and we are all traveling in the same direction anyways", so I just endured his company in silence.

We had settled down for the night in a small clearing a ways off the path. We were just south of a large hill by about a mile. Looking at it previously from a distance, the hill rose up, out of the trees like a balding head; the top grassy and bare of trees. Beyond that, though it was hard to tell, it looked as if the trees started to thin out a bit. As night fell fast upon us, I quickly volunteered for first watch. All had been very quiet so far, and I entertained myself by singing softly to myself and occasionally glancing up at the stars. Suddenly, I felt small tremors in the ground. Putting my ear to the leaf strewn earth, I picked up the sound of many feet, treading the ground unevenly. Orc patrol. I picked my head up quickly and looked back to where my companions were sleeping. I should wake them, and make sure the orcs don't come too close. Aredhel surely would not want me to face them alone. I knew the orcs were coming closer, but as I sat in thought, my gaze fell to the human Grey, and something akin to defiance welled up in me. No. I can do this. I'll show him I'm not some weak little girl. I'll show him! With that I launched myself into the nearest tree and landed perfectly. Yes! Take that, stupid human! Glancing back over my shoulder, I saw my sister shift in her sleep, and I began to have a few doubts. They'd be fine on their own for a bit, right? Gray gave a big snort and turned over. Right. Yeah, they'd be fine. I can do this. I looked forward into the darkness once more and started jumping through the trees.

Going east, I picked up a trail of broken branches and trampled earth about half a mile off from our camp. It seemed that the orcs had passed by maybe half an hour ago. Moving as quickly as I could without hitting anything, I followed the trail in a slow curve, until the trees suddenly dropped away, and a dark shadow loomed against the sky. With a jolt, I realized the orcs' trail had lead me all the way around to the north side of the camp and that I was right under the south side of the large hill we'd seen earlier in the day. Before I could contemplate this further however, I picked up the sound of voices coming from over the hill, in the moon's shadow. Creeping along the tree line and rounding the back of the the hill I came upon a circle of maybe twelve orcs sitting around a fire at the base of the hill. Doing my best to keep out of the firelight, I tried listening in on their conversation, but found they were speaking in orcish. Seeing as I knew little of the language and the fact that they were all talking over each other, I was only able to pick up a small bit of information. Straining forward, in an attempt to hear more, finding myself nearly at the end of my branch, my common sense finally found and caught up with me. Determining that I had seen and heard enough, I decided to go and tell Aredhel of what I had witnessed. As I turned to go however, my foot slipped and the unnecessary movement caused my branch to break. Hitting the ground, I was immediately winded, registering only the orcs' surprised grunts and the sound of blades being drawn. Pushing myself to my feet I ran back the way I came and prepared myself for a fight. In my still winded state, the two fastest orcs caught up to me when I was about half way back, but I made quick work of them. By thatU time however, the rest of them had caught up as well. Knowing I couldn't keep running, I turned and stood my ground with grim determination.

There were still three left. My left arm was broken, I was covered in small cuts, I had a knife in my leg, and I am fairly sure I cracked a rib when I fell. I knew I wasn't going to last much longer. Not with my arm like this. Of all the STUPID, IDIOTIC things I could have done! Why couldn't I have woken Aredhel up, or better yet—just stayed put! Cursing my pride, I steeled myself as the bravest of the remaining orcs began to change, and I held my head high. Before the thing had a chance to take more than a few steps however, it fell gurgling to the ground, a knife protruding from its neck. The other two barely had a chance to react before Aredhel dropped from the trees and made easy work of them, delivering quick cuts to the back of their necks. I watched shocked and relieved beyond belief, as Grey emerged and retrieved his knife. Looking then to Aredhel, I froze, because the complete and utter disappointment on her face, hurt more in that moment, than any of my wounds.

Rac ha translates to: curse it

[myssthyss]

Drawn

Sequel to (Re)Birth

The ground crunches gently beneath the tall Awoken’s feet, her newly found redwood walking staff adding a third thump to her gait. The trek to this “City” will be long and arduous, especially with limited aerospace centers in proximity to where her Ghost found her. Luckily, it seems she landed on the correct side of the mountain. 

As in, the side closer to a ship. 

Her Ghost had estimated a two to three week trek to the nearest Golden Age Aeroport and, hopefully, the Fallen hadn’t retreated there and picked it clean after the SIVA Crisis.

God, she was so clueless about all of this.

“So, what’s that ‘Traveler’ you mentioned earlier?” Myss asks her Ghost, who somehow dematerialized and is living inside her head now. 

He insists he lives in her backpack, but she’s not wearing a backpack, and she can hear him in her head. This is all so disorienting, and she’s stopped questioning her companion’s personal shenanigans to save her sanity somewhat.

[No one knows exactly what the Traveler is,] 

Really helpful, Ghost. 

[...some would refer to it and its Light as a God and a Blessing respectively, and the Ghosts and their Guardians - as children of the Traveler and its Light - as demigods.] 

Myss’ eyes widen slightly at that. Her, a demigod? No pressure, right?

[However, it’s simplest to call it a terraformer, as that is primarily what it did while it was alive.]

“It’s dead?”

[Yes. That’s why I exist. I, as well as every other Ghost, was born the moment the Traveler died, with the express purpose of finding you - our Guardian.]

“Aww, you’re gonna make me blush.”

[Let me try harder. I’d wandered the Sol System for hundreds of years, oversaw many battles - The Faction Wars, Six Fronts, The Great Disaster, Twilight Gap, the SIVA Crisis - I’d been to Luna, Mars, Venus, and Mercury, and not one fallen individual had called to me.] Her Ghost materializes in front of her. [Until yesterday.]

She feels the water-like light ripples on her face congregate on her cheeks. “--You got me. I’m blushing.”

Her Ghost laughs, and disappears again.

Over the next few days of travel, her questions are gradually answered. 

After the Traveler had blessed many a race with its Light, and subsequently abandoned them when the Darkness came for it, it decided to make its final stand to protect humanity. 

The City - The Last Safe City - is the last place on planet Earth that is truly secure for humanity, sitting in the shadow of the dead Traveler. 

The City is run by the Speaker, the Consensus, and the Vanguard. The three Vanguard leaders each represent one Guardian Order. 

Her Ghost says he knows which Order she’ll fit in with best, but he wants it to be a surprise for her. That’s no fun.

There’s a variety of enemies they’ll face, but the Fallen are the ones they’ll run into the most. They were the last species the Traveler blessed, and the last it abandoned.

Myss learns more about the Fallen in a less-than-pleasant manner. She’s sniped at by a Vandal from a hundred feet up, Marauders slice at her out of nowhere, and Dregs take aim at range. 

She’s able to fend them off successfully using her redwood walking stick and one of the Marauder’s blades, but not without taking a substantial amount of damage.

“I... I need a moment...” She says breathlessly, supporting herself against a tree.

[No rush. I’ve got you.] Her Ghost soothes. His beams run over her fresh wounds, leaving no trace they existed as they heal. Then, he freezes, and abruptly disappears into her backpack. [Actually maybe some rush. Did you hear that?]

“Hear wh--”

//E ZER ET HUS//

She turns abruptly towards the guttural voice, and meets the glowing eyes of--

[A Captain. No doubt this gang’s leader. And we just killed them all.]

“What do we do?! He’s huge!” Her stillness and chatter seems to upset the Fallen Captain because--

//SHE DA HUR ET//

[I’d grab one of the Dregs’ shock pistols. Quickly!]

Myss does so, takes aim, and fires. The Captain dodges her shot and disappears briefly, reappearing about ten feet away from where he was. 

This repeats for several minutes, firing, dodging, firing again, until she gets impatient and just runs up to punch the Captain. Unfortunately, the Captain has two feet on her, and two more arms than she does. It’s easy for him to thwart her attack, grabbing her neck as she swings, then holds her up against a tree while his blades draw dangerously close to her torso.

//RA SHA HA//

Logically, she knows this won’t matter. She knows she’ll be back in a moment’s time. Dying still sucks, though. It’s still painful. It’s still defeat. She doesn’t want to lose. She doesn’t want to die again.

And - as if her pleas had been heard - a deafening gunshot rings through the air. The next thing she knows, the Captain disintegrates into a million burning embers, and she falls to the ground.

“What?” Myss breathes a heavy sigh of relief, resting a hand on her neck. “What happened?”

“I just saved your life’s what happened!”

A female figure in a violet hooded cloak - bathed in fire and wielding a flaming pistol - jogs up to her and offers her unarmed hand. Just as Myss goes to take the offered hand, the stranger’s gun and flames vanish.

This just added like ten questions to Myss’ list.

“Thanks! What the hell was that?!” She asks incredulously of the stranger. “That was... You really saved me the trouble of dying again.”

[You mean saved me the trouble?] Her Ghost says, appearing over her shoulder.

“Hey! Dying hurts. It’s trouble for me, too.”

The stranger gasps. “You’re a Guardian, too!” Her helmet’s removed to reveal hair, lips, markings, and glowing eyes that match the flames that engulfed her just moments ago. “Lumo, you can come out, you know.”

{I know! I was just making sure the coast was clear.} The Ghost expands and reveals its sphere of Light, scanning the area. {Looks like that Captain was the last of them. Good job, you two.}

The two Awoken and the other Ghost all thank Lumo, and do a double take between each other before laughing over the confusion.

“I like you.” The orange-eyed Awoken says with a smile, offering her hand again. “Name’s Seraph Vim, and that’s Lumo.”

“Myss Thyss, and that’s...” Myss looks to her Ghost, who looks back expectantly. She hadn’t known she had to - and therefore hadn’t planned on -giving him a name. But-- “...Casper.”

Casper looks befuddled, and simultaneously delighted.

{Lovely to meet the both of you.} Lumo says, performing as much of a bow or curtsy as a Ghost could manage. {You’re on your way to The City as well?}

[That we are.]

“Well why don’t we travel together?” Myss suggests to the group. “We’ll be safer that way, having someone to watch our backs.”

“You just want me to stick around so I can save you again.” Seraph teases with a smile and a nudge. “Don’t worry, I’d be happy to save you anytime, Myss.”

That got her to blush again. “Thanks. I’ll probably need it.” She sighs, looking over to her Gh... Casper. “Which way now? That fight got me turned around.”

[That-a-way!] Casper replies, facing his shell in the requested direction. The group heads off, Ghosts disappearing to the safety of their Guardians’ backpacks.

“How long have you and Lumo been traveling?” Myss asks after a lengthy silence.

Seraph tilts her head, looking absently upwards. “About a week or so, I’d say.” She replies. “He found me in a ship halfway up the mountain range, still strapped into my seat.”

Myss blinks. “Wait... a ship?” Her hand goes to her chest, ghosting over the jewel that sat below the fabric. “What do you remember about it?”

“The glass was shattered, the seat was purple at one point, and there was some sort of large flag in there.” Seraph turns so her back faced Myss, showing off the large emblem on her cloak. It’s made up of three yellow diamonds and two white triangles. Almost looks like a crown.  “It was cold up there, so I used this to warm up and I’ve decided to keep it.”

Myss nods thoughtfully, slightly envious of how stylish Seraph’s cloak is. “Mine was similar, believe it or not. Though, I think I was on the floor of the ship, far below the seat. And I was at the top of the mountain.”

“Really?” Seraph asks, incredulous. “How’d you get down here so fast?”

“Well...”

[She fell.]

“No. You didn’t.”

[She was mere minutes old, had just figured out her name, and she slipped and fell two miles down the mountain.]

Lumo bursts into laughter, forcing his Guardian to laugh as well.

The liquid light on Myss’ cheeks flares. “Shut up! The snow was loose! I lost my footing.”

“Oh my god, Myss. That’s fantastic. Looks like you will need me to save you.” Seraph wipes her eyes as her giggles subside.  “So... did you choose your name, or...?”

Myss knows what Seraph’s getting at with how her question trailed off, and she pulls out her jewel by the chain.

Seraph immediately does the same, though hers is a much lighter shade of purple. They speak almost in unison.

“Myss Thyss. Iris Commander.”

“Seraph Vim. Orchid Commander.”

There’s a pause as the pair absorb this new information.

Myss speaks first, quietly. “No way.” 

“Were we part of the same fleet?” Seraph adds in awe.

“I wonder if we knew each other.”

Seraph smiles and tuts. “I’m sure we did. We were both Commanders! We probably sat in a war room together at least once.”

[You’d be right. There have been two conflicts that the Awoken were directly involved in.]

{And considering your ages, you were probably present for both of them.}

The two Awoken look at each other, the weight of the information fully resting on their shoulders. 

Decades of history had likely occurred between them, and it was all lost when they crashed into that mountain. Now here they were, united again, with no recollection of any of it. They both felt slightly emptier than they had previously, but also more whole.

“Maybe that’s why I felt drawn to you.” Seraph almost whispers, keeping her eyes angled forward, avoiding Myss’ gaze. “Maybe knowing each other in our past lives helped us connect in our new lives.”

“Maybe,” Myss smiles softly, laying her arm over Seraph’s shoulder. “...but now we have eternity to make new memories with each other. We’ll make up for what we lost a hundred fold.”

Now it was Seraph’s turn to blush, her ripples resembling tiny flames on her cheeks. She smiles, which only makes those little flames brighter.

“Sounds like a plan.”

[crossroadsdimension]

Puppet AU -- Chapter 13

I decided to post this before the special edition journal got out in the open, since that would get everyone’s attention.

This chapter’s got some...interesting things in it. You’ll see what I mean.

Thanks to @howtotrainyournana for beta-reading this.

Strange Dealings

The Master grew bored of the alien worlds of their dimension rather quickly after his initial arrival on each one. Ford wasn’t sure whether it was because the aliens had no resistance force or because the aliens ran screaming as soon as they caught sight of them.

The Master conjured up a number of creatures to keep his authority in his place on the planets, then collected his puppets and returned to his throne room, bored.

Only for something else to catch his attention.

“HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?” The Master coldly eyed the two creatures that were standing in his throne room. “I DON’T RECALL LEAVING THE FEARAMID OPEN FOR PEOPLE LIKE YOU TO WANDER IN AS YOU PLEASE.”

“We informed your servants that we were requesting a deal with you.” One of the two black-cloaked figures in the center of the throne room gave a slight bow. “And we speak the truth in that.”

Ford suppressed a shudder. There was something wrong about the voice of this creature. It scraped and flowed over him like a landslide and oil at the same time, and the sensation did not feel like it should exist.

Indeed, there was a chance that the aliens themselves should not exist. Something warped and moved around them that made their edges blurred, not quite constant.

“DO YOU, NOW?” The Master arranged the Pines in front of his throne: Dipper and Ford on his right, Stan and Mabel on his left. “I WAS UNDER THE IMPRESSION THAT DARK ARMS LIKE YOURSELVES DIDN’T DO DEALS.”

Dark Arms? These creatures had strange, curling dark horns rising up over hooded heads and sharp beaks and glowing red eyes that could be seen from under the hoods. Ford wasn’t sure where the name came from, but he wasn’t quite sure that it fit these creatures entirely.

He wasn’t about to question that now though. He wasn’t required to.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” the first rasped in reply. “We have had some…difficulty with a certain project. The project has learned to avoid and destroy any mark we make on a dimension. We wish to have it brought back under our power.”

Ford’s ears twitched.

The old scientist in him attempted to stir, but it was quickly crushed. The Master hasn’t asked for him to question; what use did he have of silently asking himself questions?

The Master laughed. “WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I SHOULD BE INTERESTED?”

“The project goes by Fire Storm and has access to the Continuum Shift. She has trapped us in a loop in time and could do the same to you.”

The Master stopped laughing, but his eye was still crinkled up in amusement. “DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT SOMETHING LIKE THAT CAN AFFECT ME? TIME DOESN’T EXIST HERE!”

“That will not matter to a World Jumper.”

Ford’s ears twitched. This was the first he’d heard of such a thing as a World Jumper. His mind raced through conclusions without his permission: the name suggested that the person was capable of traveling between dimensions, or at least between planets….

“LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT. YOU WANT A WORLD JUMPER THAT SCREWED YOU OVER.” The Master’s eye flicked through a number of different visions – other dimensions, perhaps? Ford couldn’t get a clear view of them, and he wasn’t about to turn his head around completely in order to get a better look. “WHY COME TO ME?”

“Because you have found a way to keep your servants obedient.” The Dark Arms looked down at Ford, who didn’t meet the alien’s gaze. “We require that knowledge in order to bring Fire Storm under our power properly.”

“HMMM….” The Master tapped below his eye. “SOUNDS LIKE AN UNEVEN DEAL. YOU WANT A BOUNTY ON THIS KID AND WHAT I DID TO MY PUPPETS, BUT WHAT DO I GET FROM YOU IN RETURN?”

The Dark Arms looked at each other solemnly at the question. Ford and his family said nothing, watching the visitors in case the Master decided not to take the deal and instead use the creatures for target practice.

“We will owe you a favor,” the first Dark Arms rasped. “Will that suffice?”

The Master said nothing for a moment. “A BIG FAVOR.”

“Cipher—“

“BECAUSE THIS IS NOT SOMETHING SMALL YOU ARE ASKING FOR. IF YOU’RE STUCK IN A LOOP, THAT WILL HAVE TO BE BROKEN FOR YOU TO GET THIS ‘FIRE STORM’. YOU’RE GOING TO BE IN MY DEBT UNTIL YOU’RE DEAD.”

“Or you’re dead,” pointed out the second Dark Arms. The first elbowed him in the gut.

The Master burst out laughing. “ME? DEAD? UNLESS YOU’RE THREATENING ME, THAT’S NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN.” His eye narrowed. “IS IT?”

“No,” the first Dark Arms replied – possibly a little too quickly, but Ford wasn’t about to feel suspicious of them. He wasn’t required to; therefore, he felt nothing. “We wouldn’t dare to suggest that you have an end.” He shot his companion a pointed look, then looked back at the Master. “Your assistance and knowledge in exchange for a favor you can call in over us at any time. We accept this deal.”

“IT’S NOT OFFICIAL UNTIL WE SHAKE ON IT!” The Master held out a hand, which burst into blue flames.

The Dark Arms hesitated at the sight of the fire, then reached out with a claw and grasped the Master’s hand. The deal was made.

“NOW GET OUT OF MY SIGHT.” The Master settled back in the throne and motioned for the two aliens to leave. “GO ON. YOU’VE GOT NOTHING ELSE OF INTEREST TO ME.”

The Dark Arms exchanged looks, then retreated from the throne room.

“I DON’T SEE WHY THOSE BOZOS ARE SO WORRIED ABOUT THIS ‘FIRE STORM.’” The Master snorted. “SERIOUSLY, THEY’RE PROBABLY JUST A MORTAL MEATSACK WHO’S IN OVER THEIR HEAD AND ONLY WON AGAINST THEM THROUGH DUMB LUCK. PHEH. STILL, THOUGH, THAT DEAL WASN’T A WASTE OF TIME. I GOT ANOTHER ALIEN RACE IN DEBT TO ME.” The Master chuckled to himself.

Ford closed his eyes. Fire Storm…whoever it was, he supposed there was a greater chance of him running into them now, if they were spotted.  Much like the counterparts of himself he was now charged to collect, so too would he find this one and bring them in.

It was now simply a matter of them showing their face.

“OOP! LOOKS LIKE WE GOT ANOTHER ONE!”

Ford opened his eyes at the Master’s teasing tone and blinked when he saw the blue-skinned troll from before making his way into the throne room, dragging a battered and knocked-out Stanford behind him. This one looked like he had been around the multiverse for a good number of years – his hair was only starting to turn gray.

His counterpart also happened to be unconscious.

“Picked this one up a few dimensions over.” The troll threw Ford’s counterpart down in front of the throne, causing the man to groan in response. “He was already pretty knocked around, so I figured I’d knock him out and drag ‘im here so you could find where he’s supposed to go.”

“I COULD HAVE JUST SENT FORDSY TO YOU TO PICK HIM UP AND DROP OFF THE REWARD LATER. I’VE ALREADY DONE THAT FOR A FEW OTHER ONES.” The Master motioned with one hand, causing Ford’s counterpart to levitate up to eye-height. A snap of his fingers healed any wounds the human had, and the Master poked Ford’s counterpart in the head with a finger. “THERE WE GO…WAIT.” The Master’s eye narrowed. “THIS ONE IS – WHAT IS THIS?!”

Ford’s ears quickly moved down as the Master’s normal volume increased into a low roar of anger.

“THIS ONE DOESN’T HAVE A ME WHO MARKED HIM!”  The Master turned his attention sharply to the bounty hunter, who had the instincts to flinch back as the Master turned red. “THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE! THERE’S NO WAY THAT – OH. OH.” The Master’s eye flickered, and he jolted back to yellow. “BUT THAT’S – SHE SHOULD BE DEAD BY NOW, NOT –“

“Who?” The troll quickly recovered himself. “Can I go after her to get the bounty this guy would have—“

The Master burst out laughing. “HA! AS AMUSING AS IT WOULD BE TO SEE YOU TRY, NO. I STILL NEED YOU TO KEEP UP YOUR END OF THE BARGAIN. I’LL TAKE CARE OF HER IN MY OWN WAY; YOU JUST KEEP WORRYING ABOUT COLLECTING FORDS.”

“And this one?” The troll motioned to Ford’s counterpart, who was still floating in the air by the Master’s power, unconscious.

“I’LL WORRY ABOUT HIM. GO ON, SHOO.” The Master motioned for the troll to get out of the throne room, which he did – reluctantly. As soon as the troll was gone the Master snapped his fingers, encasing Ford’s counterpart in a maroon bubble with a six-fingered sigil on the side. “NOW TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS ONE….”

“Hey, buddy! Think ya got a free moment?”

Ford’s ears twitched. The voice sounded like the Master’s, but it had less volume to it – must be a counterpart.

“YEAH, SURE!” The Master brightened instantly. “GET IN HERE!”

Another triangle – slightly smaller, with a tinge of orange to his edges – floated into the room with his eye upturned in a crinkled smile.

The Cipher whistled. “Man, I like what you’ve done with this place! It’s nice to see that you’ve managed to settle in!”

The Master laughed. “IT’S NICE TO BE SETTLED IN! SO WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, BUDDY?”

“Well, I heard that you’d managed to get the Pines under your control and—“ the Cipher cut himself off and pointed at the bubble in the Master’s hand. “Is that a second Sixer?”

“HUH, THIS? OH, YEAH – APPARENTLY, THIS ONE DOESN’T HAVE A CIPHER LOOKING FOR HIM, SO I’VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT WHAT I COULD DO WITH HIM.” The Master bounced the sphere from hand to hand, not really paying attention to the shadow of the figure trapped inside. “SINCE I’VE ALREADY GOT A FORD AND ALL. IT MIGHT BE NICE TO HAVE ANOTHER ONE, BUT I DON’T WANT TO DEAL WITH TWO OF THEM WHEN THE ONE I HAVE IS MORE THAN ENOUGH OF A HANDFUL.” The Master turned his eye to Ford, who lowered his eyes to the floor.

“I think I know a Cipher who might like another one.”

“OH?”

“Yeah; one of us caught a Crescent when he was coming through the portal.” The Cipher let out a laugh. “He’s got him working as a bounty hunter for Fords now, can you believe that? He hasn’t caught any yet, though – I bet he’d like someone to practice a few techniques on, if you know what I mean.”

“OH, I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU MEAN. WHICH NIGHTMARE REALM’S HE AT?”

Ford heard the other Cipher give a set of dimensional coordinates, and the Master laughed again.

“THAT ONE, HUH? I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN HE’D PULL SOMETHING LIKE THAT! I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN HIS FORD GETS CAUGHT BY HIS OWN BROTHER! HA!”

Had Ford felt more himself, a chill would have run down his spine at the thought of his own brother hunting him down. However, as he and Stan were both serving the Master, he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

“Y’KNOW, IF THERE ARE DIMENSIONS WITHOUT CIPHERS, I WONDER….” The Master trailed off thoughtfully. “HAVING JUST ONE DIMENSION LIKE THIS IS BORING, AND IT’S GOING TO START LOSING SUBSTANCE WHEN MY WEIRDNESS HITS THE EDGES OF THIS DIMENSION. WHAT DO YOU THINK WOULD HAPPEN IF I REACHED OUT FOR OTHER DIMENSIONS?”

Stan shifted on the other side of the throne, but his movement was slight enough that Ford’s ears only twitched in his direction.

“Other dimensions?” The other Cipher sounded thoughtful. Then he laughed. “That sounds like a great idea! There have got to be more dimensions that we can liberate out there than just this one! But how do you expect to do it?”

“OH, I HAVE A FEW…IDEAS.” The Master sounded like he knew what he was doing. “TAKE OUR ALTERNATE THIS LITTLE SIXER AS A ‘GIFT’ FOR HIS NEW PET TO CHEW ON. I AM GOING TO SET MINE TO WORK.”

“And how do you know I’m not going to take this one for myself?” the other Cipher retorted.

“LET’S JUST SAY…I HAVE MY WAYS.”

There was a moment of silence at that, and then a flash of power – the other Cipher had made his escape from their dimension.

“I’M GOING TO BE OUT DIMENSION-SHOPPING,” the Master announced. “STAY HERE UNTIL I GET BACK.”

And then he too was gone.

Another Time, Another Place

“I’m going to try something.”

Ford’s ears twitched at the Guildmaster’s voice, and he looked up at where she stood in the middle of the Mystery Shack’s living room.

“What are you gonna do?” Mabel – an untouched Mabel, not Ford’s own great-niece – looked at the Guildmaster with a curious expression.

“I want to see if I can rescue these guys earlier in their timeline.” The Guildmaster cracked her knuckles together. “If they can be rescued with less damage from that triangular beastie than they have now, they would definitely be better off.”

Ford blinked, his expression remaining blank and unchanged when she looked over at him.

“Are you suggesting that you can time travel?” A version of him in the appearance of a sphinx looked at the Guildmaster from where he was laying on the floor. Mabel – Ford’s actual niece, not a counterpart – was sitting next to him, appearing nervous.

“People like me do that all the time traveling between dimensions, since the rate of time is different in each one.” The Guildmaster made a slight waving motion, as though she could clear the doubt from the room. “If I get it right, I bet I can punch a hole through space and time in order to go back to some point in the past when they’d be faster to recover.” She looked around the room. “Any objections to me trying?”

A second version of Ford sitting in a chair across the room from him – still human, as Ford had been before his transformation – rose to his feet and pulled a blaster out from under his trench coat. “I don’t see why we can’t attempt it, but you are going to need more weaponry than just what you have equipped.”

“I can summon an army of allies who I am sure would love to tear this guy to pieces.” The Guildmaster grinned, but there was a dark glint of something in her eyes that offset the eagerness she was displaying. “There are a lot of people out in the multiverse that would want a piece of Bill for what he’s done.” She looked around the room at the figures assembled there – both Ford and his family and their counterparts, as well as two young men with bright blond hair that the Guildmaster had introduced as her nephews. “You guys ready to give this a shot?”

“Yeah! Let’s do it!” One of Mabel’s counterparts pulled a grappling hook out from under her sweater and prepared to fire it.

“I’m up for round 2.” Stanley’s counterpart grinned and cracked his knuckles.

The Guildmaster gave a thumbs-up, then motioned at the air in front of her.

A bright crackle of blue lightning flew from the Guildmaster’s fingertips, and a bright blue, circular, stable portal appeared in the middle of the living room.

Ford stiffened. There was something about this that was…oddly familiar, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was.

The Guildmaster started to step into the portal—only for her foot to collide with the circle of energy and not pass through.

“What in Primus…?” The Guildmaster frowned. Then her eyes widened sharply as the portal rippled. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

Mabel’s counterpart started to lower her chosen weapon. “What is it?”

“Their past is a fixed point in time, I can’t go back and change any of it!” The Guildmaster clenched her right fist and slammed it into the circle of energy in front of her, causing it to ripple again as the blue glow faded and became something else.

Ford recognized the walls and floor of the Fearamid’s throne room as soon as he saw them. He could also see the Cipher he once called Master, and there was something else in view of the portal as well, but he could not see them well from where he was sitting.

The Guildmaster gritted her teeth and snarled through them; Ford got the feeling he was going to be used to get her anger out later.

“It was worth a shot,” Stanley’s counterpart said with a shrug.

Ford’s human counterpart sighed and hid his blaster away again. “Indeed it was.”

“There’s still something I can do, though.”

Ford blinked at the Guildmaster’s statement. He saw that her fists were still clenched in anger, but there was a grin on her face now. His ears flicked forward slightly.

“I’ve always wanted to see how Cipher would react to something like this.”

The Guildmaster grinned wickedly and took a deep breath, then shouted into the open portal between this one and the Nightmare Realm. “THREE ANGLES MAKES A NINCOMPOOP IGNORAMAGON!”

Ford sat up ramrod straight as his eyes widened sharply; the figures on the other side of the portal started to turn in order to find the source of the Guildmaster’s voice as the people on this side of the portal stared at the Guildmaster in surprise.

The Guildmaster stuck her tongue out. “Pbbbbbbth! HA!” Then with a flick of her wrist, the portal collapsed in on itself and disappeared from sight.

It took a moment before Ford’s brother recovered from the shock of the Guildmaster’s actions.

“That was you?!” Stan stared at the Guildmaster with wide eyes, jaw dropping in shock before a grin crossed his face. “Do you know how long I’ve been wonderin’ who ta thank fer hearin’ that particular name?”

Ford couldn’t believe what the Guildmaster had just done; he continued to sit stiff as a board, hands clenching the arm-rests of his chair as the color swiftly drained from his face.

She just – why did – that was her?! That portal – how could she have –

Oh. Oh no.

“Maria, that was extremely reckless,” one of the Guildmaster’s nephews said disapprovingly – a tall, young man with blond hair that looked almost white, and a reserved air about him.

“Like I was going to let an opportunity pass me by!” the Guildmaster retorted. “That eldritch monster’s lucky that this thing’s a fixed point in time, or else I would have jumped in there and summoned the Guild and taken him on right then and there! It would have saved us a lot of trouble in the long run, believe me!”

Mabel and Dipper exchanged wide-eyed looks while Stan’s eyebrows shot even higher, half-impressed and half-startled.

Ford’s tails curled around him tightly, ears flicking back against his head. “D-do you realize what you’ve done?”

The Guildmaster turned at Ford’s choked question, her grin fading into an expression of confusion. “What do you mean? Are you talking about the portal thing?” She paused. “Oh, yeah, you guys don’t know – I completely forgot about that. It’s okay, Sixer – I do that all the time. I’m a World Jumper; it’s kinda what I do. I mean, sure I’m called the Fire Storm, but fire’s not the only thing that I mess with.”

That only made Ford even more nervous as his fears were confirmed. The fur on his tails started to rise slowly; he wasn’t sure what the Guildmaster would do when she found out that he had known this and hadn’t informed her. “They arrived not long after this event and placed a bounty on your head. They made a deal with him.”

“A bounty?” repeated the other of the Guildmaster’s nephews – a tall young man with his hair sticking up like a broom.

“They who, Sixer?” The Guildmaster’s expression shifted over to a frown. She took a few steps closer to Ford.

He sank down into the chair, expecting to be beaten as soon as he told her. Withholding information of any sort couldn’t have been a good thing. “The, the Dark Arms.” Ford closed his eyes tightly, expecting a near-murderous response from the Guildmaster, and for she to take her anger out on him.

The room went completely silent; Ford could feel the tension in the air as he waited.

“Did they say anything about me thwarting any plan of theirs?”

Ford’s ears raised themselves a little; the Guildmaster was speaking…softly? But there was a serious tone in it as well – she must be holding her anger back until she had all the information she could concerning the matter.

Ford nodded a little. “Yes.”

“Did they mention the Continuum Shift by name?”

Ford nodded again. “Yes.”

“You know about the cosmic reset button?” one of Ford’s counterparts asked in surprise. He guessed it was his human counterpart, since the voice didn’t have an underlying growl to it.

That phrase was familiar; the Mas – Cipher had used that.

“Yeah,” the Guildmaster replied. “I know how to hit it – I did it when the Dark Arms made a few moves the multiverse didn’t like.” Ford could hear her clenching her teeth. She let out a sigh through her nose. “It’s only a last resort for me, though, and I doubt that hitting it now would be of much help to Sixer and the others.” There was a pause for a moment, and then the Guildmaster said, softly, “Sixer, thank you for telling me about this.”

Thank you?

Ford cracked his eyes open a little, confused by the Guildmaster’s word choice. He focused on her face and saw that…there was no anger there. Only…concern, which still didn’t feel right directed at him. “You-you’re not mad?”

“Mad?” The Guildmaster shook her head, then frowned, but there was no malice or anger in her gaze. “I’m not mad at you if that’s what you’re suggesting. You didn’t know who exactly I was to them; it’s not your fault.”

Ford found it ridiculous that the Guildmaster was just brushing this off like nothing. He certainly wouldn’t have.

Ford saw his human counterpart look at him with a worried expression. “Maria, something tells me this is an instinctive response.”

Ford’s tails twitched as the Guildmaster’s brow furrowed even deeper, and she sighed and shook her head.

“Sixer, I’m not going to take my anger at the Dark Arms out on you,” she said. “It wouldn’t be right, and it wouldn’t be healthy for either of us.” She looked at him, mouth pressed into a straight line. “I don’t do that sort of thing, and I don’t ever intend to. You have my word on that.”

Ford blinked, disbelieving. Once again that bitter laugh echoed in his head, just as it had the other times that the Guildmaster had said such a thing – she was not as bound to her word as he was; she could go back on it at any time.

And yet…and yet….

He had only been under her power for a short time and he already saw how different she was from his previous master, how instead of using every means she had to get what she wanted, she assisted others.

She had vowed to give them back their freedom as best as she could, and she had yet to do so, but…some small part of him was starting to wonder if she actually could.

The Guildmaster held out a hand, jolting Ford out of his thoughts and causing him to flinch back, expecting a slap to the face. The Guildmaster winced at his reaction, then kept going forward and placed her hand on his shoulder.

A pulse of warmth – heat, yes, but it felt like there was something else with it as well – spread out from the point of contact and into Ford, causing him to stiffen in surprise at it as he looked at the Guildmaster in wary confusion.

“I am not like Cipher,” the Guildmaster said evenly. “You’re safe here, Sixer. I promise.”

Ford blinked, thrown off by the Guildmaster’s words even as his body relaxed instinctively into the warmth that she was pressing into him. His mind was still…uncertain, of her, and of what it was that she was capable of. But there were some things that were proving her words true. The Guildmaster did not create destruction as his previous master had, and she did not have his temper.

That, and she was….not angered with him.

He had known a word that could have described such a thing, once, but it escaped him now.

Ford sighed and let his body relax completely. The Guildmaster would take some more time yet to get used to, it seemed.

[the-redmane-family]

Shadow and Flame, Part II: The Nascent

“My first thought was that he lied in every word.”

The pair of figures that now strode through the pale late afternoon sun conversed as they went, a perpetual cold in the air as the advent of spring yet clung to winter’s icy chill. To some they might’ve been an odd pairing, given their manner of dress; the man’s tattered leathers and worn traveling cloak seemed to indicate that he was not a resident of the floating city in which he now found himself. His companion, the woman, wore a similarly heavy cloak, though far less tattered. Beneath this cloak, her robes of crimson were unmistakable: the Scarlet Crusade clothed its most devoted followers in such regalia, and were any to recognize her garments, she would find the cold of Northrend warmer than any welcome she might receive from the city’s inhabitants.

Not far ahead of them walked a youthful woman whose robes identified her as an apprentice magi of the Kirin Tor. With her head held high, she led them on through the lively street, aloof as she carried out her duty to the lofty archmages who could not be bothered with such menial tasks. As the man and the woman trailed behind her, they spoke in lowered voices.

“What reason would you have to believe that he lied?” The woman probed.

“You can’t seriously think they’ll just welcome you back,” the man answered. “The Kirin Tor are snobbish at best, and vengeful at worst. If they have any reason to doubt your allegiance, they will.”

“Do I detect a hint of fear in your voice, Marius?”

The man furrowed his brow and grumbled disapprovingly as they made their way toward a large building. The Violet Citadel loomed at the far end of the street, its many spires and minarets piercing the hazy sky. The city’s magocracy was proud of their legacy as a pillar of magical knowledge, even prouder to have risen from the ashes of Archimonde’s fury, and their architecture showed it.

“I don’t expect a warm welcome, and your instincts have always served you well. At least, they’ve kept you alive thus far.” A smirk passed over the woman’s pale face as the man shook his head.

“Call it luck, I’m not so sure I’d trust my instincts after they got me into… well.” He let the sentence hang. Both knew of what he spoke, the latest in a long series of wordless communications that passed between the two. They didn’t need magic to converse silently. They had something far more potent: shared experience.

Just as the pair and their young guide were crossing the threshold of the Citadel’s massive doorway, another similarly dressed young apprentice was moving toward them, his gait dutiful but his manner flustered. He began speaking even as he was still hurriedly closing the distance between them.

“Nelphi, the archmages are not ready! She—” he paused as he noticed that Nelphi was leading two persons, not one, “—they cannot be here yet.” His voice was nasally and his tone stringent.

The young blonde-haired mage who had just finished leading the pair through the streets seemed embarrassed and frustrated. “Well, here they are,” she quipped sarcastically.

“Were you not clearly instructed to show today’s arrivals to temporary accommodations?”

“My instructions were to bring them here. So I guess they’re your problem now, Pierson.” She delivered this line with a certain satisfaction before turning to address her former charges. “Safe journey, and good luck with this one.” Her eyes flicked to the other apprentice, and a mere second later, she strode off, leaving neither party with a chance to respond.

The one called Pierson had already seemed irritated upon his arrival, and this encounter did nothing to improve his demeanor. “Insufferable little—” he clamped his jaw shut, his slightly rounded face turning red with boyish indignation. Facing the pair, he did his best to act the part of the apologetic greeter. “I apologize for the inconvenience, and I must apologize for my lack of manners. I am Apprentice Pierson.” He fixed the woman with a polite but obviously strained smile. “Miss Redmane, is it? Isolde Redmane?”

The woman nodded. “At your service.”

Pierson returned the nod distractedly before shifting his gaze to her companion, whose haggard appearance singled him out even more in the bustling crowd of magi going about their business in the citadel’s large main room. The apprentice favored Marius’s tousled, shoulder-length hair and scraggly beard with a slightly disapproving look. “And your companion…?” Pierson trailed off as he noticed the milky complexion of the man’s eyes. The unkempt traveler was blind.

“Marius Renferrel.” Though bereft of their pupils, Marius’s eyes yet returned Pierson’s stare, as the former offered a slight smile.

“Do forgive me, Mister Renferrel. We were under the impression that Miss Redmane would be arriving alone. We have accommodations for her, but not for you.”

There was an awkward pause, and Apprentice Pierson quickly began to prattle on in order to avoid lingering on his first piece of bad news. “As I was just telling Apprentice Nelphi—” he uttered the name with thinly veiled disgust, “—the council of archmages that has been arranged to see you cannot do so at this time. It’d be best if you came back tomorrow morning. Miss Redmane, you’ll want to take this.”

He produced a single coin from his robes, which he then handed over to the woman. Emblazoned with the sigil of Dalaran, it was minted for the purpose of acting as a sort of magical identifier to prove that the bearer was indeed who they claimed to be. Isolde recognized its purpose and accepted it without question.

“Present this at the inn across the square from the bank.” He fidgeted. “I suppose if you don’t mind sharing a bed, Mister Renferrel can join you. Otherwise he’ll need to rent a room of his own.”

Marius shook his head, turning it slightly in Isolde’s direction. “I’ll take the floor. Enough time in the wilderness and you grow accustomed to the ground beneath you. Wouldn’t get much sleep in a bed anyway.” The woman gave him a skeptical look, but said nothing.

Pierson’s eyes darted back and forth between the two, the uptight apprentice already acting as if he’d overstayed his welcome. “Pleasant dreams, then. Tomorrow morning, once Archmage Cross arrives, the council will see you. We’ll say at ten bells in the Chamber of Perception. That’s up the stairs behind me, through the doors on your left, and then all the way to the end of the hall.” He paused for a moment as Isolde stared at him blankly, her face unreadable. “Well, then. Goodbye!”

The woman shook her head as Pierson departed, and Marius exhaled loudly.

“Well, the apprentices around here sure know their asses from their elbows,” he quipped sarcastically. “Come on, let’s head to the inn. Maybe they’ll at least have some decent food. I’m wasting away over here.”

Isolde seemed not to hear him. A font of recollection had opened deep within her mind, pouring out remembrances of days gone by at the mention of Darius Cross’s name. Perhaps it had been the trauma of the recent years, but she had almost forgotten her former mentor and his stifling lessons. She had not cared for them then, and time had not softened her to the rigidity of the archmage’s instruction.

Sensing something out of place, Marius put his hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her. She had been staring at the stone floor for an indeterminable amount of time, and her companion was anxious to leave. “Hey? Wake up. Time to go.”

She started, turning immediately toward the door and rapidly regaining the composure that she actively fought to maintain in all but the most private of settings. As one who had experienced the mania of the Crusade alongside her, Marius had seen her in some of her most vulnerable moments, and in this moment the blind ex-Scarlet did not sense any reason to be troubled by her sudden departure from the present.

“You’re looking pretty hungry yourself,” he continued as they descended the steps of the large building and once again found themselves in the busy streets. “I mean, I imagine you do. My eyes may not work anymore, but my mind’s eye is sharper than ever, and right now everyone looks hungry.” He took a deep breath, inhaling through his nose and then exhaling out of his mouth. “Every meal smells like a feast, and every woman is happy to see me.”

“You’re a lousy mage, Marius,” she teased.

“I am not. I’ve just had enough of conjured food. I need something real. No more conjuring fires in the forest or washing in rivers or burying my shit with my hands. I want—”

“—to sleep in a real bed?” Isolde interjected, an amused look on her face. “I thought the cold hard earth beneath you was enough?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll have you know it’s not the same when you’re in a floating city. I hope you’re ready to bunk up.”

The woman rolled her eyes, but smiled inwardly. Although levity did not come naturally to her, Marius had a way of dispelling the darkness that hounded her soul. His company had returned some of the humanity she had thought was lost to her, and despite being more at home on her own, she was glad of it. They arrived at the inn that would house them that evening just as dusk had begun taking root, and with the night’s chill—the true chill—returning to the air, it would be a welcome respite.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first emotion she felt upon waking was more complex than simple fear. It was a hideous mixture of terror and dread, awakening yet another old memory long forgotten, buried in the recesses of her psyche. Her eyes had flown open but she had not screamed; she hadn’t even moved. Across the room, Marius lay bundled up in several quilts on a modestly comfortable sofa near the fireplace. Fearing that she would fall back into the uncharted depths of her dreams, she sat up, the air of the bedchamber cool against her sweat-drenched skin. For a moment she held this posture, closing her eyes and listening to the stillness around her before opening them again and climbing out of the bed. She pulled some of the sheets off with her, wrapping them against her as she strode over to the large window that looked out across the square, now practically devoid of life in these deep, late watches.

The moon was nearly full, bathing the city in pale light that contrasted with the tawdry luster shed upon it by numerous lamps lining the streets. When making arrangements for the journey to Dalaran, she had not considered all the memories this place held for her; it was almost as if she believed that the city would be unrecognizable, having been once destroyed and then summarily uprooted from the geography she had always known it by since she last lived here. Yet even now as she watched it sleep, the familiarity was undeniable. Humans were a lusty race, young and stubborn, full of pride and ambition. Much of Dalaran had been rebuilt to honor the legacy of its forebears, and to Isolde, it was different and yet the same.

Many nights past she had awoken in this city facing these same nightmares, and even after years of searching for a way to answer them, to know what secrets they held, true understanding still eluded her. Upon joining the Scarlet Crusade and delving into the dark arts, the nightmares had ceased. For a time she thought that perhaps they had simply been a guide, a dark fire pulling her on toward the power she now understood, but their unannounced return resurrected the same old questions. The same frustration. The same dread.

Follow the current to its source.

A soft voice spoke words to her, turning the key on another vault of memory. These memories, however, were not of frustration or fear; they were of comfort and confidence. The only one who had known in earnest the struggles that a young Isolde had grappled with, long before the Scarlet Crusade or Kellen Grisham or the two sons that were now lost to her. This was her aunt, Thea Redmane, a woman who could turn a single teardrop into an ocean of hope.

Behind her, the man on the couch shifted and began to snore lightly. She thought about returning to bed, for the terror of the moment had passed. But now her mind was consumed with other thoughts, returning to nights past when Thea had come to her bedside, offering counsel and waiting up with her until the girl grew tired and fell into a mercifully dreamless rest.

Isolde peered at the moon, its cold light filling her irises. A distant memory stirred, and she closed her eyes, feeling the past envelop her like a warm blanket. It wrapped itself around her form in the same way that the sheets she had pulled from the bed did, and after a few moments she found herself looking through the eyes of a young girl…

…waking as she always did following the visions—for visions they were—in a state of panic and mild nausea. Isolde peered around through young eyes, eyes that were her own but only in the distant years now long past. The room, a different room, seemed to swim into focus as if a wide sargasso sea, the furniture huddling itself against the walls in dark clumps that did little to provide a comfortable return to reality. Though a typical size for traditional Dalaran bedchambers, it easily dwarfed the tiny home that the girl had known for the better part of her youth. In this memory it was still new, alien, earnestly attempting familiarity but lacking the smells, the feeling of the home where her father had seen her to bed for many moons. Now with the advent of her thirteenth year, it seemed that whatever brief childhood she had was already over.

A large rug lay across the stone floor between her bed and the fireplace which now housed little more than glowing embers, an indication that the hour was quite late. The young girl sat up, pushing her back against the pillows and drawing her legs up to her chest. Despite the temperate evening, she shivered, pulling the blankets up to her chin. The nausea had passed, but the fear remained; uncertainty gnawed at the corners of her mind.

From the hallway outside her door, the girl heard someone approaching. It was only several seconds later that the light of a candle appeared beneath the door’s wooden frame, and several seconds more until the bedroom door cracked open slightly and the face of her aunt Thea appeared, peeking into the room.

Their eyes met, and Thea smiled.

It was not a jovial, beaming smile. That was not her aunt’s way, and later in life it would not be the girl’s way either. Thea’s smiles always seemed more subtle, nuanced, warm and inviting and yet laced with a peculiar sadness. Her dark brown hair was cut into a bob, and curled naturally; even in the haze of the early morning hours it looked effortless. The candle’s small flame cast shadows on the wall and illuminated her face and her lavender silk nightgown as she approached the bed.

“Bad dreams again?” Thea’s voice was soft, muted so as not to disturb her husband, the girl’s uncle, who slept down the hall. She spoke with a faint Kul Tirasian accent, a hint at the humble seaside fishing town beginnings which she had left behind for her studies and career in the Violet Citadel.

“Yes.” The girl fixed her eyes on the blanket in front of her, her arms wrapped around her legs still drawn up close to her chest.

Thea carefully lifted the chair from the desk against the wall opposite the bed and brought it over to the bedside, seating herself. The candle was now resting on the end table to the left of the bed, to the left of the young girl as she sat silently save for the one word she had spoken to her aunt.

“Poor Melony,” Thea’s response was genuine, sympathetic. “Can I bring you something? Water?”

The girl shook her head. After a moment, she met her aunt’s gaze. “I thought that coming here would help me understand these dreams. I thought they’d stop, or get better… or that I’d learn something about them.” She frowned. “But no one has said anything about magic causing dreams like this.”

Thea watched her as she spoke, thoughtful as ever. “Magic causes a lot of things to happen. After so many years, there’s still so much we don’t understand about it. We can study it, use it, but we have to respect it. It’s a strange beast, temperamental and dangerous.” She paused. “You have a natural affinity for it, no one will deny that. These dreams, they will get better. But you’ve only been here for less than a year. It will take time, Melony.”

“How long? How will I even know where to begin figuring them out?”

“Sometimes we just have to follow the current to its source. You said these dreams are vivid, sometimes different in small details, but usually following the same pattern. They sound more like visions to me.” Another pause. “But that’s all the help I can offer if you won’t tell me more about them.”

“I don’t like talking about them. They’re... difficult to describe. The magic, the spells and incantations I’ve been learning about aren’t like the dreams in any way. The dreams are dark, frightening… they don’t make any sense.”

Thea’s face became slightly more wan as her niece spoke. “No one will tell you that there isn’t a dark side to magic. I’m not going to shield you from that reality. But we have to face it, and be courageous.”

“My father always told me that I needed to pray to the Light to make the dreams stop.” The girl sighed. “It didn’t work. How do we face the dark when the Light doesn’t answer us?”

“The Light answers whom it will,” Thea responded, “and only those religiously devoted to it seem to be able to channel it with repeated success.” She stopped speaking, and repositioned herself so that she was seated on the edge of the bed. Leaning forward, she took her niece’s hand in her own. “Find the light inside of you. You are a light; you can do incredible things when you aren’t held back by fear or doubt.”

The two locked eyes, the doubt and uncertainty still visible in the young girl’s deep blue eyes as she listened to her aunt. The stillness of the bedchamber seemed less oppressive and dangerous with the woman seated on the bed, the woman who so clearly loved and cared about the girl.

Thea looked down at her niece’s hand. “These are discussions we should be having when the sun is up,” she mused, almost as if to herself rather than to the girl. She lifted her gaze. “Tomorrow, Melony.” She stood up from the bed, taking the candle in one hand. “Try to get some rest. Your uncle and I are just down the hallway if you need us.”

“I’m not a child.”

Her aunt simply smiled. “No, you’re not. But we’ll be down the hallway just the same.”

The door swung open slowly, and just as Thea was about to exit the room, her niece spoke up. “Why do you call me that?”

Her aunt turned, not speaking.

“You call me Melony. You’ve called me that since I got here. But my name isn’t Melony.”

“Would you rather I didn’t?”

The girl hesitated, then shook her head. “No… I don’t mind it. I just want to know why.”

Thea smiled again. “When you tell me about your dreams, I’ll tell you about your name.”

The door closed softly…

…and the room began to spin, swimming once again out of focus. The older woman opened her eyes, and she was standing again in her room at the inn, facing the window, the moon’s cold light reaching out timidly.

Sometimes we just have to follow the current to its source.

Where did that current lead? What yawning abyss would she find herself drowning in if she waded out into the oily black waters of the dreaming? Monsters lurked there, she thought. Many horrors had she seen, and with each passing year, it seemed that her soul was slipping further and further into a chasm, utterly dark and yet one of her own choosing. That was the price of the magic she now practiced, and what she had given to surpass her mentor and escape the clutches of the Crusade, she dared not speak except in the darkest of nights. She knew the price; but for want of the knowledge of the truth, all was else expendable. Look at us, the voices demanded. You can’t deny us for long. We’ll always be here, watching you. In time, you will understand.

She lowered her head and turned, returning to the bed. No more rest would she find this night, but still she would try. In several hours the morning would arrive, and with it, a fateful reunion of teacher and pupil.

[auroha]

Crystal Rain Chapter 1

The door was locked.

Of course it was. The boy eyed pretended not to look at it as dutifully bent over his work. His hands were already aching and if he did not pull it off, they would be raw by sundown. He turned his head to glanced over at the door to formulate a plan, but suddenly footsteps sounded nearby and he forced himself to remain attentive, or at least act like it, to his task. The footsteps stopped. The hair on his neck prickled and the boy knew they were watching him. That made it easier to identify the suspect, most would have simply ignored him. Judging by the sound of the footsteps, it could only be one person. He didn't move, save for the task at hand. A bead of sweat worked its way down his brow. Had she noticed the slightly movement that he had made? The silence seemed to stretch on for what seemed an eternity.

Finally, something happened that distracted the Observer. To his left there was a clamor of voices, mostly men, probably drunk. The Observer let out a sharp sigh and marched out of the room. He heard the sound of the door slam shut behind him. He winced and pitied the poor fools that made such a mistake. It was not easy to get away with such behavior around her, and the punishments were horrendous. In the years that he had labored for her he managed to mostly stay on her good side but today was different. Today he would risk her wrath if it meant freedom for a good several hours.

He was certain that nobody was around so he took the chance and turned away from his work to study the door. It was your basic plain oak wood door with cheap brass hinges and handle knob. He knew from experience that the hinges would squeak but he was prepared for that and had taken the necessary precautions earlier that morning when no one was up, and had oiled the hinges. But that was irrelevant and paled in comparison to the daunting challenged he now faced: Unlocking the door, and furthermore doing so quietly and getting away before the Observer came back.

He scanned his surroundings for any sign of her and, when he didn't see any, began to search for a small, stiff piece of wire. He managed to find two hair pins in drawer, a stroke of miraculous luck, but it had taken him several precious seconds to find it. He scraped of the spherical shaped ends of the hair pins with his teeth and set to work.

The boy pulled open one of the pins until it was straight. Next, he bended one of its ends into a 20-degree angle. He opened the other pin and bent it into a L shape. Then, he inserted the L-shaped pin into the bottom of the lock and placed the other one above it, gradually wiggling upward. As he did so, a number of clicks could be heard as the various pins were raised. After some time, the tension wrench rotated freely and the door began to open. The boy rose from his crouched position and put his hand on the door to push it open.

However, as this happened a number of things occurred. The first being that when the door unlocked, the boy took the liberty to let his guard down. The second was that as soon as he did, the-oh-so-familiar footsteps returned, accompanied by the wails of the unfortunate victim. So, when the he looked up to see the Observer turn around the corner, dragging a man by the ear, you would not be surprised at all.

~*~*~*~*~

Dalila Watcher was a kindly woman but who was also brass and stern. She never let things get to her and could be relied upon to keep a secret. Although, since she ran the local tavern, it was probably old news to her. To most of the villagers, she was a motherly figure. She let a number of underpaid tabs and debts slid, so long as she could still use them to call in favors. She was the voice of reason, and had seen and survived many bar fights, often being the one to break them up. At one time, she had married, but her husband had died of an unknown illness many years ago. They had no kids, but the village children looked up to her as a teacher, though, it should be noted, they were quick to escape when it was their own faults that was being taught. She was tough, but fair.

At first glance, she appeared to be the ordinary house wife, taking care of the tavern for her husband while he was away. Her red-brown hair was tied into a pony tail and she has green eyes. Her face was creased with smile lines and she wore a simple dress and a apron. If one were to look at her hands they would see that they were hard and tough, and her arms were muscular from carrying tankards of ale to costumers.

But when she turned the corner dragging George Martin by the ear, (the former having not paid his underpaid tab one-to-many times) and saw him pushing the door open to escape from his, as he called it, "Slave labor", all those motherly and nurturing characteristics disappeared.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF IRIS DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!?"

At these words, the boy turned to face Dalila. Their eyes met. She glowered at him and he stuck out his tongue at her and burst out the door, to freedom. As he ran along the path leading from the back of the tavern to the village, he heard The Observer shriek: KARMA, YOU GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT! YOU ARE NOT PLAYING THESE STUPID GAMES TODAY!!!"

~*~*~*~*~

Tina glowered at the empty space where he had been standing. George Martin emitted a chuckle. "You can't keep him cooped up forever, Del. Its market day, the rest of the kids his age will be out an about. It'll do him good if he can make some friends."

The grip on his ear tightened, causing him to release a cry of agony. "Its only market day, it's not like it doesn't happen every month or so. And who are you calling Del, huh!? I have a name, use it."

"Ow, ow, ow, ow! I'm sorry Mrs. Watcher!

"That's what I thought."

She sighed than allowed herself a smirk. "Well I guess since my main dishwasher seemed to have flown the coop, You'll just have to fill in for him. Should do you some good. Maybe you'll even get a job out of it."

"Ok, ok, just let go of my ear, please!"

~*~*~*~*~

Karma dashed away from the tavern and toward the city. The tavern was situated on top of a hill with patches of rocks and trees dotting the land scape. A shadow covered the landscape as a small floating Island drifted in front of the sun. As he ran he spotted a creature-a jackalope probably given the antlers on its head- bound away into the surrounding forest.

He ducked behind a tree to catch his breath, breathing heavily. He listened for the sound of a pursuit but heard none. He waited a bit, then decide he had successfully thwarted Dalila's plans. Wanting to survey the festival before entering it, he began to climb the tree.

Like a squirrel, he shot up the tree, finding handholds in the bark and gripping the branches tightly. He always kept three points of contact on the tree, knowing that any less would result in a Karma-pancake. That was not a pleasant thought, so he pushed it away and continued upward.

At last, he reached the top. The branches were were thick and were dense with leaves, providing good cover but at the same time this obstructing his view. By maneuvering g around a bit, Karma managed to find a place were the leaves lessened, giving him a mostly clear view of the happenings in the village below.

Nubis usually looked dreary, however, today it was teeming with life and merriment. Shops, stands, and games lined the single street, giving it the impression of a prospering city. He could just barely see people bustling through making their way past the holler of the shop keepers as they advertised their goods. The smell of baked goods wafted thought the air, making Karma's mouth water. He wanted some, but he knew from past experience that if he ate them he wouldn't get any supper. At the far far end of the town was a col-de-sac. At the center was a temple to the villages patron god, Iris. Around the temple, people twirled and  danced, the sounds of laughter competing with the melodies of country folk songs. Through the dancing adults, children frolicked to and fro, occasionally running into a dancing couple.

Karma mouth split into a grin. He loved market day, it was one of the best days of the year, one of the few that he was allowed to go anywhere he wanted. Dalila was always careful to monitor his movements, fearful that he would be carried-away by thieves or such. It seemed ironic to Karma that with so many people there was more of a chance to be kidnapped than any other day.

Suddenly, boisterous whooping could be heard. Given the volume of the racket, the culprits were in the general vicinity. Sure enough, Karma could just barely see the forms of humans as they staggered up the hill. From what he could see through the overhanging branches, there seemed to be at least four. They were in a line, with two flanking either side and two in the center. The one furtherest to the right had brown hair and fair skin. His companion adjacent to him had red hair, and also had fair skin. His brown and black cloak fluttered behind him and his leather boots caused indents in the path. He might as well had a sign that said "I'M THE LOCAL IMBECILE" The next  two boys was different from the previous two. Karma couldn't recognize them, so he assumed they were from a neighboring village. Unsurprising, as many villagers traveled to Nubis, to take part in the trading of merchandise. They had darker skin and black hair. one was smaller than the others so Karma assumed they were brothers.

He gritted his teeth. Not wanting to deal with them, he shut his eyes and thought 'Don't bother looking up, don't bother looking up, don't-'

"Hey, Rainbow-boy"

He looked down to see the one in the the brown and black cloak starting up at him from beneath the tree, his hands on his hips. As Karma glanced down at him, he broke into a smile. Even his smile was annoying, he hated it.

"Why do you always wear that scarf? You look like walking unicorn vomit."

His friends cackled.

"Well, Horace, why do you always wear that cloak? You might as well carry a sign that says 'I'M A BLOCKHEAD."

At this, his friends laughed even harder and Horace's smile widened. He beckoned Karma to come down, and he did so, reluctantly.

"What are you doing here?" Karma asked when he reached the bottom.

Horace gestured the tavern.

"We're heading up to get a drink. Wanna come with us?"

"Why? Don't they have drinks at the market?"

"They do, but we were hoping for something a bit more, ah, mature" One of the dark-skinned boys said. The rest chuckled. "Like what?" Karma asked.

The pause that followed was that of one when somebody says tells a joke and one person doesn't get it.

Finally one of the other boys spoke up.

"Like ale."

"You're not supposed to do that. Isn't your mom really against Alcohol, Horace?"

"Hey what she doesn't know won't kill her. So are you coming or nah?"

Karma shook his head and backed away. "Dalila will get really angry if she catches me, and I'm already in hot water. If I take one step into the tavern, she'd chain me to a chair. Why don't we do something else instead? I bet old man Hooper passed drunk out 'bout now. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if we 'borrow' one of his wife's pies."

But the other boys seemed disinterested in something that only a few years ago they would have been happy to do. "We're too old for that now, man" Horace said. "We've got to watch our backs now. Adults can be persecuted for theft."

"Nobody's too old for blueberry pie."

"You know what I mean"

Karma felt rage bubbling up inside him. Here was a boy around his age, trying to order him around! Who did he think he was, a girl? Karma couldn't understand him.

"Stop acting all high and mighty. You think you're so cool, swaggering up here pretending to be an adult. That's why you want to drink ale isn't it? You want to show all you're buddies how cool you are! You're stupid, I HATE YOU!"

Then he ran down the hill, his rainbow scarf flapping in the wind behind him.

Howdy! If you’re reading this, you’ve somehow managed to get through the cringy story above. If you would like to help make it less cringy, then you can over advice on how to make in better.

I sound like every generic advertisement on the internet. 

oh I should probably mention that this was originally going to be a story for a game my friend and I were making, but then I got discouraged because they weren’t really helping (they’re too lazy) I watched an extra credits video that CRUSHED MY HOPES AND DREAMS!

#ExtraCreditsCrushesDreams

Also yeah I just threw my friend under the bus.

He deserves it

So because it was original a game, the characters in this story will sometimes have unusual features such as sharp teeth, red hair, yellow eyes, etc.Honestly, I think this story would be better suited for a comic or an anime, but like the song says: ~you can’t always get what you want~

Ciao-

Auroha