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ryozoro · 3 years

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Hades Playlist - i.

NOW PLAYING : I n t e r l u d e [J. Cole]

cw; name calling, blood, mentions of murder, major spoilers

“Fate is a very weighty word to throw around before breakfast.”

Despite the red-light district thriving through the night, it looked just as beautiful during the early morning. Yn was roaming the streets on her pedal bike for the first time since winter break as she plotted different ways to surprise her big brother at his newly opened bike shop. She had already purchased his favorite breakfast meal from the little café she worked at, and all that she was left to do was see the said man. Getting out of thoughts and returning to reality, she stopped at the side of the traffic light to press the ‘crossing’ button and to text Draken to make sure he was at work before she made the trip.

“hey there pretty girl, ya wanna come ride something more interesting than the little kiddie bike yer on right now?” some bleach blonde junior high kid called out to her, smirking as he man spread and took up most of the space on the park bench. “I know ya hear me pretty girl,” he leaned and rested his elbows onto his knees, “maybe ya want me to come over and beg for yer attention, huh? Want me to come and make ya listen to me?”

She scoffed and waited for the light to signal for her to cross, but its as if the gods wanted to punish her and traffic kept flowing out of her favor. Getting restless, she pocketed her phone and tapped on her bar handles in hopes of the cars to all be generous and let her through; of course, this did not happen and the young fuck boy in training had began to approach her alongside his friend who were hyping him up and recording the event.

“You might be older than me,” he walked up behind her and kicked her bike tire before circling around and leaning against the basket in the front, “but that doesn’t change the fact that I hit girls.” Yn had to refrain from spitting in his face because Draken always said ‘never start anything with others first, let them choose their fate.’ In other words, big bro just didn’t want her to put herself at risk due to minor inconveniences that were presented towards her.

Just as the light switched from a hand to a walking figure, yn politely smiled at the boy in hopes of him getting the hint that she did not wish to engage with him anymore, but – of course – that was just asking too much of him. He turned back and looked at the sign noticing it was their turn to cross, and he surprisingly moved out the way. Yn smiled realizing that her brother did know it best when he said that the ‘dumb young boys will leave you alone after they realize you’re not going to give them the time of day,’ and she moved to pedal across the cross walk with a large smile.

However, big bro’s words are not the golden rule amongst men and the boys did not leave her alone; in fact, they decided to run at her hit the back tire with a bat and caused her to lose control and fall in the middle of the walkway. The drivers were kind enough to wait for her to get up and cross the street with scraped knees and a dirty pull over. She turned back to glare at the boys, but their backs were already facing her as they leisurely walked away laughing. This wasn’t going to ruin her day, after all, she still gets to surprise her brother with her presence and might even have the chance to see his hot amazing friends whom you grew up around. After realizing that the former gang members might all be hanging around her brother’s workplace, she got up with a huge smile and skipped the rest of her way on the crosswalk. Once to the other side, yn hopped back on her bike without checking her bloodied shins and made her way on the quickest route to the shop.

Glancing up at the familiar billboards that danced in sky and looking down at the alleys being populated with street cats and new gen delinquents, she realized she was only a block down from seeing the man who has always put her first and raised her to strive to her fullest potential. Smiling as closed her eyes for just a second - she swears it – to bask in the excitement and next thing she knew, she was on the ground covered in coffee. She could hear faint voices but those were cancelled out by her skin screaming at her to get up and quickly remove any rubble and dirt that had entered. Moving to get up, she took note of blood staining the concrete and became slightly alarmed.

“Oi, you dumb bitch, you should watch where you’re going,” a man’s voice echoed through her head, “you got a drip of blood on my Milano’s.” Trying to get up, yn went to wipe her eyes, but as soon as she lifted her hands, she felt them share the similar sting that her knees and chin felt. “You deaf or something? Ha, lucky for you I’ll take the food in your basket and whatever is in your wallet as an exchange. Pin code for your card must be included, love.” Hearing as she was about to get stripped dry of her hard-earned cash, she shot a glare up at the well-dressed man’s body just to be sent in a more state of terror when she noticed the tattoo that decorated his temple; it was the infamous Bonten symbol.

“I say we just take her to the back alley and make her pretty throat match the rest of her bloody body,” she turned and seen a pinkette with long hair and two scars that sat on each corner of his ?beautiful? mouth. to be completely honest, he would have been very much at the top of her most attractive list if he weren’t just plotting to slice her neck right in front of her; she wondered if he ever heard of the Element of Surprise. “She hasn’t even apologized yet and it’s been at least 45 seconds, that is pretty rude don’t you think, Mochi-kun?”

“It is very rude,” the built man with slicked back blonde hair spoke up, “do you want me to take her in the alleyway?” He squatted down to meet yn at eye level and she didn’t know if it was the fact he was able to stare into her soul with lifeless eyes or the extremely structured shoulders that could break her bones if he had tackled her, but she genuinely felt that she was going to die. “You seem like a worthless kill if I am being honest, and I don’t like claiming meaningless prizes. So, if you want to live,” ‘Mochi-kun’ reached over and gripped her bloodied chin, “or are you going to be good dog and run your pockets?”

She couldn’t believe it; for all her life, death threats have never been directly shot at her as Draken and the others have always been there. Of course, she emptied her pockets as quick as she could and began wiping the man’s Milano’s with her cloth lens wipe.

“Good girl,” the man with the temple tattoo said mockingly, “but I’m gonna need you to put your pretty mouth to work since you don’t know – or rather – you act like you don’t know how to speak.” She felt her eyes began to fill with tears as she looked up from the ground; they mistook it for fear, but yn was just angry she was powerless to them. “Don’t worry, I like older women, so I won’t need your mouth for that,” he laughed loudly in her face, “lick the blood off.” Her glare returned and tears began to spill over her cheeks. “Be a good bitch, and lick my –“

“What are you idiots doing?” a man with a long pink and purple mullet-like hairstyle came from behind her. “Are you guys bullying young kids again? Oh, wait, you’re not a kid.” He stared at you through his multi-colored bangs and tilted his head, “Why are you all bloody like a sewer rat walking through the back alley of feral cats?” he pushed the girl’s forehead back, straining her neck to hold eye contact with him, “you’re not some whore, are you?” He craned his neck back to the man who has been treating her like a dog, giving yn a full view of his Bonten symbol tattooed across the middle of his pretty throat. “Neh, Koko, you do realize that if you want a girl’s attention you can’t just rough her up in hopes that she takes you to bed.” He turns back to yn before sighing, “You’re cute,” for some reason she felt herself swelling with pride, “but you’re not my type,” – well there goes her ego.

“Oh what-fucking-ever,” ‘Koko’ mumbled as he gently pushed her away, “I didn’t want some inexperienced princess anyway, so don’t get your hopes up.” He quickly bent down and took all the cash from her wallet and began to slide out the card, but a baton quickly swatted at his hands.

“Your obsession with money is crazy, but you can’t take hers if you still owe me 45,000 yen.” Yn turned to see a man with pushed back purple and pink hair holding the offending stick. Unlike the other members, his tattoo was in the same place as the mullet man – maybe they took over the organization after her other big brotherly figure, Mikey, left. She drank in his appearance, and although he was thinner than the other members, something about him just screamed ‘stay away;’ but for the first time in her life, yn didn’t want to listen to such obvious red flags. “Oh no, you’re bloodied up like a rat –“

“I have already said that nii-chan,” the mullet head said, “what do you say? Wanna jut get rid of her like Sanzu-san suggested?” The now known younger brother asks. She began to tremble but not out of fear, no, out of a weird feeling at the pits of her stomach that came about as soon as the stranger stumbled onto the scene. “Oi,” the younger brother flicked your chin, reminding your body that it is supposed to be in a state of stinging pain, “staring is rude. What are you – a deer in headlights?”

“Now, now, Ridou,” the man continued to meet yn’s gaze as he motioned for her to take his hand, “where’s the fun in hurting a good little lamb? Especially one who shows that she knows to yield to her Sheppard.” Against her better judgement, yn took his hand and allowed him to help her up. “Look at you go,” he smirked and scanned over her body through hooded lids, “such a strong little girl you are standing on wobbly legs after the big bad wolves tried to tear you down.”

She should feel offended, mocked, and appalled, but she couldn’t – not with the voids he called eyes staring at her. “T-thanks,” she weakly mumbled as she began to gather her bag back together and prop her bike back up, “I know you guys said you needed the pin number, but I can’t give it to you.” She hung her head and balled her fists; she was waiting for someone to hit her but that never came. Looking up she sees the ‘older brother’ standing in front of the brooding ‘Koko’ and the other members just staring around the streets.

“That’s fine, little one,” the older brother said, “we don’t need your card. Koko here will be fine with just the cash. But I will need payment of the sort since I did calm the bully over here, don’t you think?” He smiled at yn, quickly scanning her student ID and then turning back to her face, “You’re 18, yeah?” she nodded, and he smiled lazily, “Good, give me something of yours that is valuable. I want to talk to you again and if I take it, you are going to want to take it back, correct?”

“I – um,” she began to go through the bag and seen that the only things she deemed valuable were her phone and the spare keys to her room in the brothel, “all I have is my k-keys and phone.” She huffed out in hopes that he took mercy and just let her go already; if she kept in his presence any longer, she feared that every piece of knowledge on common sense would fly out of her brain.

“Well, no one wants a pedal bike here and your phone and keys wouldn’t be of use to me,” he spoke in a rather degrading tone, “how about, you give me that pretty little necklace that you’re wearing… hmm, ... oh! Give me your number as well. After all, how are you going to know when I want you to take back your precious gems without being able to plan a proper date?” His smile was too secretive to be comforting, but this was probably the best way to saving her own life.

“Okay,” she replied quickly, “just please, don’t break the necklace…” her hands shook as she unclasped it and placed it into the man’s hands. “That’s a gift from my brother, so I promise you I’ll come and get it whenever you ask.” Yn put her hands on her bar handles before straddling the bike.

“Thank you,” he smiled and put away the baton before fishing out his phone, “put your number in it and call to make sure you’re not fucking with me, yeah?” He tilted his head and softly hummed at the soft sound of her phone vibrating in her bag. “Thank you, yn-chan.”

“No, thank you,” she lightly coughed and waited for him to look back up at her after saving all her contact information. Once he finally looked up, she flinched but proceeded to stare him dead in his lovely irises, “May I have your name… if ya don’t mind that it.”

“Haitani Ran,” the older man laughed and shifted his weight onto his hip, “and I expect you to text me whenever you get the chance.” He turned around and the other members began to follow. For what felt like an eternity, yn finally let out a small breath, well at least until he had turned back around. “Oh!” Haitani-san smiled at her, “Leave it under ‘Ran-senpai’ so your brother and friends don’t get spooked. Don’t want the fun to end before it has barely even started.” With that, he turned back around and waved half-assed before disappearing into the distance.

Yn decided to just to walk the rest of the block because riding the bike has been nothing but bad luck so far. Once at the shop, she sighed and made her way to the back where she knew would be unlocked because no one dared walk up into her big brother’s place of work. Parking her bike, she quickly takes her phone back out with 3 texts from an unknown number.

Unknown: hey little lamb, its yer senpai <3

Unknown: yer probs with yer bro so ill call you later, mm around midnight so stay up

Unknown: text me back soon or I mite accidentally break your pretty necklace and youll have to owe me a big favor for ignoring me :)

“what the actual fuck,” yn whispered as she quickly began typing away. She didn’t know if she be upset with his back-to-back messages treating her like she was his property, or mad at herself for feeling this little need inside of her that wants to please him. Yes, all of the gang members were extremely hot and DANGEROUS, but something about ‘Ran Senpai’ gave her the cold chills; what made it worse was the urge that she possessed to go against all her morals for him.

Yn: hi! Im sorry,, I was just trying to get to my brother’s shop

Yn: wait,, do you know draken-nii?

She tilted her head and rocked lightly from side to side, waiting for a reply instead of going in and surprising her brother like she initially had planned to do. While she waited, she changed his name to ‘Tani Senpai <3’ with a small smile as she imagined Draken freaking out over the fact that a boy has caught her interest. Of course, she wasn’t romantically interested in the man, but his face isn’t one that she would mind seeing from time to time – at a safe distance that is.

Tani Senpai <3: mhm, some good and bad history

Yn: oh?

Tani Senpai <3: you do know curiosity killed the cat, right little lamb?

Yn: you flirt a lot

Yn: how old are you ?

Tani Senpai <3: 28 years young bb

Yn: youre ten whole years older than me?? You look so,, young.

Tani Senpai <3: I have aged, but trust me, I am rather youthful in different aspects.

Yn: do you by chance,, like memes?

Tani Senpai <3: ofc, especially hornee ones.

Yn: haha.. well I gotta go,

Tani Senpai <3: mhm go ahead baby, remember. Midnight <3

Yn: aye aye captain.

She felt another vibration as she placed her phone in her backpack, but she was finally able to see and surprise her brother and that is exactly what she planned to do. Quietly pulling the door open, she noted that the music blaring and Draken’s back was to her as he was fixing up what looked like Pah-chin’s old CBX 400F. It was a cute sight if she was being completely honest; her brother rebuilding his old friendships. She seen the other boys’ bikes lined up too: Draken’s Zephyr, Mitsuya’s little Impulse, Kazu-kun’s Rocket, Mikey’s CB250T, and even the late Baji’s Goki.

“Pah-san still has the old thing,” she decided to speak up instead of tackling her brother, “are you guys gonna give it to some younger kids?” right as she finished her sentence, draken whipped his head back and went to cradle yn to his chest. Suddenly, all of the stinging on her skin had vanished and she was giggling while circling her arms around her brother’s waist. “How are you ya wannabe greaser?”

“I’m doing fine you idiot, how are -,” draken lifted his head to get a good look at her, but all his excitement drained as he was met with a sight of dried blood and scraped skin. “Who the fuck did this to you? I’ll kill them right fucking now, what the hell happened yn?”

“DRAKEN,” he stopped and stared at you expecting an answer, “I tired riding my bike down the big hill by the park and this happened, okay? I’m okay.” She stared at him with a soft expression and relaxed once she noticed he slumped in his posture, “I know you said to stop riding down the hill because it’ll bite me in the ass one day, so I guess today was the day.” Yn laughed and draken tried to fight the small smile that was threatening to fall on his lips.

“Go sit on the counter and watch the store for a bit, I’m gonna get the first aid kit in the back and I guess I’ll patch ya up.” With that, he disappeared into the office hall and left yn to be lost in thought. She had never lied to Draken this heavy before. It might not seem like a big deal to others, but she just told her brother she fell down a hill instead of saying that some /Bonten/ men were just threatening her life 20 minutes ago and they treated her like a dog; well, she didn’t feel that bad anymore, considering that he would have gone and wasted his life against men that played dirty. “Get out of your head, I’m back.” Draken teased her before getting an alcohol wipe and wiping the dried blood, “don’t squirm too much, loser. iss’ gonna sting a bit tho, so try to not hit me.”

It went a lot more smooth than she had expected, yeah, the cleansing wipe and ointment burned, but now she was bandaged and able to not worry about even more blood staining her clothes til they go to the brothel.

“Here,” he handed her a spare shirt and some sweats, “I don’t like seeing you all beat up, makes me want to fight the side walk. You know where the bathroom is.” Draken slightly punched her shoulder before heading back to seat near the bike, “once you’re done, we can go meet the boys for breakfast. I bet yer hungry.”

“Yer the best, ya know that,” yn smiled before taking her bag and clothes to the bathroom. “It won’t be long,” she turned before entering the hall, “make sure the cute one is there!”

“Stop trying to fuck my friends,” Draken called out in an irritated tone as she walked away laughing. It was an ongoing joke yn had played on her brother, where she would pretend to have some crush on his friends and it’d just make him twenty times more protective around them; he never knew if she was serious or not so he had to be cautious.

Once in the bathroom, yn quickly changed into the clothes her brother had lent her and stared at herself in the mirror. She laughed when she realized she kind of looked like one of the main characters from her favorite psychological thrillers. Yn took out her phone and decided to message Mana, mitsuya’s younger sister and yn’s best friend from home, with a picture of her bandaged state and the caption, ‘take out my ankles next time, daddy <3.’ It honestly surprised her to get a reply that fast as Mana was always one to sleep until noon. She didn’t know what scared her more, the fact she sent it the wrong person, or the fact the person knew exactly what she was talking about.

Tani Senpai <3: you look hot like that

Tani Senpai <3: like being called daddy, but in this context arent I supposed to call you mommy or something LMAO

Tani Senpai <3: I can break your ankles with my baton

Tani Senpai <3: make you my little housewife and call you ‘Bum.’

Tani Senpai <3: don’t worry, I won’t turn into ashes ;) <3

“Yn,” Draken called out, “you okay in there?”

“Don’t worry about it nii-Chan,” she giggled in hopes of masking her terror, “just bumped into a wound. I’ll be out soon.”

“Okay,” draken slipped a pad and a tampon under the door, “don’t know if you might want these -,”

“LEAVE YOU IDIOT,” yn genuinely laughed and heard draken’s heavy chuckles through the door, “thank you though, I’ll be out soon.”

“I’ll be outside on the bike, bubs.”

After hearing draken’s foot steps vanish, she quickly began typing.

Yn: that wasn’t meant for you -

Tani Senpai <3: shame, I love killing stalking

Yn: wait,, really? 👀

Tani Senpai <3: mhm,, we’ll talk about it later tonite ‘bum ;)

Yn: .. deal :)

Despite every shitty thing that has happened to her since she got back, it felt as if they were supposed to meet; fate as one would call it. She was offering herself to one of the most dangerous men who rule the underworld, and she didn’t even find herself to minding.

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an: hi hello, hope yer all eating well :)

ryozoro©

#haitani ran x f!reader #f!reader #tokyo revengers haitani #tokyorev haitani ran #tokyo revengers haitani ran #tokyo revengers haitani ran x reader #haitani ran #ran haitani #haitani ran x reader #haitani brothers #tokyorev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers

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jinmukangwrites · 3 years

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Whumptober 2021 - October 7th - Blindness

Gift fic for @sassydefendorflower

Fandom: Nightwing, Batman - All Media Types

AO3

Warnings: Head Injury, slight descriptions of blood

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Slade dodges under the swinging blow of Blüdhaven’s newest sewer monster; born from whatever chemicals a rat has gotten into near some chemist-based super-villain’s old hideout. Now, while it’s not everyday Slade goes out of his way to take down various monsters across the ‘Haven, this time… he feels a little obligated to.

Yes, he is the reigning champion of being Nightwing’s least favorite and most powerful villain, but unfortunately Nightwing is Slade’s favorite and most interesting opponent. He came to the ‘Haven to give the kid a head’s up that he has a mark in the city; a regular challenge he likes to set for the kid to try and stop him. However, when he didn’t find Nightwing along any of his normal routes, nor in his apartment, he turned to the news to see if the kid had left for Gotham or some other city without him noticing; preparing to postpone this mark until he was back in his patron city and away from other bats.

It was then he noticed the breaking news that a giant, sewage themed rat was wreaking havoc under Blüdhaven’s streets in the downtown areas, near a major subway platform. Nightwing was spotted going in, telling people to stay out, and he hasn’t been seen since.

Of course, Slade went to the fight, and it’s a good thing he did. When he got there, he found Nightwing limp in the creature’s tail, held inches from it’s long and jagged front teeth. Blood trailed down the side of his skull in a steady flow. Slade knew immediately he was unconscious.

He took out one of his pistols and shot at the rat, but the monster was so large and feral it hardly did anything when it went into its arm. It dropped Nightwing like a sack of flour onto the ground, snarling as it turned to it’s newest threat, drool dripping down it’s snout. Slade pulled out his swords and faced it head on.

The creature, while lacking any intelligence, was fast and powerful. Even Slade had trouble ducking under its tail that it used like a club and avoiding its powerful legs and jaw. While it’s disappointing to see Nightwing taken down by a creature as low as this, he can’t exactly blame the kid when it takes himself several minutes to finally get his sword through the thing’s tail. He cuts off the appendage, then while the monster screeches in agony, he pierces its throat.

It goes down twitching and gurgling, its blood bubbling down into the sewer's already questionable streams of water. He whips his swords out, getting off a majority of the wretched blood, then heads over to his unconscious person of interest.

Nightwing doesn’t move as he kneels down beside him, in fact he’s still in the rather undignified position he had been dropped in. Frowning, Slade moves Nightwing into a better position that won't strain his spine and smacks his face lightly to wake him up. He doesn’t even twitch, causing Slade to frown more. His head is still bleeding, which is worrisome. He grabs a tube of smelling-salts from his pouch—usually used to wake up people he’s previously knocked out to get some information out of them—and firmly places it under Nightwing’s nose. A solid few seconds pass before Nightwing’s eyes shoot open under his domino mask; his hands fly out to his face to stifle coughs and he rocks forward so he’s sitting instead of laying down.

Slade doesn’t try to make conversation quite yet, more worried about that head injury. He holds Nightwing by the jaw to tilt his head and get a better look, but Nightwing reacts like the touch was electrified. He smacks Slade’s arms away and jumps to his feet, stumbling back and holding out a single escrima. Slade doesn’t know where the other one went.

“Sit back down,” Slade growls, “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Nightwing flinches at the initial sound of his voice, his mouth dropping open in shock before lowering his single weapon slightly.

“Slade?” he asks, his voice slurred.

Slade resists sighing, and lifts his eyebrow. Who else would it be? It’s not that dark here, even with Slade’s heightened senses. Nightwing doesn’t relax completely though, as if waiting for an answer. Not for the first time that night, another spike of worry rises in his chest.

“Kid, sit down or I’ll make you sit down.”

Nightwing almost goes boneless after that, breathing a single ”thank fuck” before sinking to his ass and putting his head in his hands with a groan.

Now Slade does sigh, even rolling his eyes as he does so, as he once again approaches Nightwing and grabs onto his face to look at the wound. Nightwing hisses and flinches out of his grasp.

“Don’t,” he says, “I already know how bad it is.”

Slade hums, folding his arms across his chest. “How bad is it then?”

Nightwing remains quiet for a moment, biting his lip, perhaps internally fighting with himself on whether or not it’s a good idea to tell one of his biggest enemies about how injured he is. Eventually, Nightwing makes the smart choice and speaks anyway, knowing Slade will find no pleasure in ending him if he's already down.

“Head feels like a war-drum. Feel like ‘m gonna throw up. Voice slurred… ears ringing… I-” Nightwing hesitates. Then sighs. “I can’t see.”

“You can’t see?” Slade repeats, kneeling down to once again take Nightwing’s face in his hands. Nightwing fights the grasp, but this time Slade holds strong and takes off the mask, revealing unfocused electric-blues.

“Nothing, it’s all black,” Nightwing whispers, a slight wobble in his voice that Slade is sure he’s trying to keep down.

He grabs a small flashlight from his tools and shines it in Nightwing’s eyes, frowning as there’s hardly any reaction in the pupils. He clicks off the light and releases Nightwing, thinking of options.

He’s sure the last thing the kid’ll want is to get dumped at the hospital, but Slade’s no medical expert, especially with something as fragile as a normal human’s brain.

He sighs, as only one option realistically reveals itself. The last thing Slade wants to do is risk Nightwing going home all on his own and possibly making this blindness permanent when there could be something that can be done to help him. Nightwing is a competent, talented young man, which is why he’s so intriguing to Slade—and while he has all the faith that Nightwing will find a way to fight even if his sight is forever gone, Slade also knows the loss of sense will be a major blow to the kid’s moral for months to come. He’s seen how far Nightwing can fall with helplessness and depression plaguing him, and honestly the thrill of fighting him leaves when his fire is replaced with a desperateness to prove to himself that he’s still worth something. He needs Nightwing to have a steady support system, and help for this injury.

Nightwing is going to hate him for a while after this, but Slade has no choice. He doesn’t fight against Nightwing to kill him, but because those fights are the only thing that brings a fun challenge. For how human Nightwing is, he fights like a beast, and Slade can’t lose that.

“Up,” he says while returning the kid’s mask; he grabs Nightwing by the arm and lifts him to his feet. Nightwing groans, but doesn’t fight too badly as Slade firmly wraps his arm around Slade’s shoulders. “Where is the best place to exit this place without being spotted?”

Nightwing, with the complexion of the inside of an avocado, talks him through on where to go. He looks one small fit of nausea away from throwing up all over Slade’s armor.

Luckily, he keeps it in his stomach—perhaps the discomfort in his body being something more desirable to deal with than a vomit covered Slade—and by the time they make it out of a small, boarded up and abandoned, exit to the subway line, Slade lets the kid take a break by the nearest dumpster. Nightwing, the poor thing, must have lost everything he’s eaten today in those fifteen minutes.

Now that he’s out below Blüdhaven’s night sky, he’s now the one in charge of leading the way. Nightwing stumbles along blindly—hah—never letting go of his weak grasp around Slade’s neck and shoulders.

Finally, they make it to where Slade has parked the car he had taken into the city. The windows are all tinted to near-illegal levels, but Slade still stuffs Nighting in the back-seats and hands him a bucket he had in the trunk that previously held a few hundred bullets from when he bought them in bulk.

“Throw up on the seats and I’m making you buy me a new car.”

“Bet this one was stolen anyway,” Nightwing mumbles, curled up in the backseats with the bucket touching his stomach like a flu-ridden child.

Slade scoffs and closes the door after reminding him to keep his head down but to stay awake. He takes off his Deathstroke mask, then the top bits of his armor, and shoves them in the truck. Then, after he gets in the driver's seat, they’re off.

Getting out of downtown Blüdhaven should be the hardest part of all of this; both for Slade’s navigation skills and for Nightwing’s gag-reflex. Eventually, however, they make it out of the twists and turns of downtown and eventually make it onto the main roads of the city—still crowded with cars coming too and from various ass-awful shifts of work. Nightwing remains quite agreeable in the backseats, responding that he’s awake every time Slade calls for a status report (about every five-ten minutes), and groaning at every turn no matter how slow Slade takes them.

However, that agreeableness quickly leaves the boy when Slade enters the on-ramp connecting to the north-south interstate.

Kid almost makes himself throw up by how quickly he scrambles to a sitting position; ignoring Slade's commands to lay back down.

“Turn around,” Nightwing growls. And it’s a strong growl too, reminds Slade of a chihuahua. Shaking and all.

“You’re currently blind, you have no idea where-”

“I know the roads of my city, Slade. And you’re leaving it.”

Slade sighs and merges into traffic, then uses one hand to shove Nightwing back town onto the seats. “Keep down, a cop will see you.”

“Where are you taking me?”

Slade remains silent.

“Tell me it’s a secret mansion somewhere and you have your own personal doctor that can help. Or you know a guy that happens to be down south. Or-”

“I’m taking you to Gotham,” Slade says, ripping off the band-aid.

Nightwing looks all sorts of emotions in the span of a few seconds. The one he settles on, however, is anger.

“No.”

“Batman gets injured all the time,” Slade begins to explain, but Nightwing looks frantic now.

“No, don’t take me back- I’ve worked so hard to get him to see that I can do things without him- and he has a new kid now and-”

“Suck it up,” Slade growls. “Deal with it. I’m not like you, kid. I don’t know how to take care of a normal human, and I definitely don’t know anyone who can because I have no need to. What you need is a doctor that can treat you off the record, who knows about your nightlife. Batman has that, doesn’t he.”

It’s not a question, but Nightwing’s silence is still an answer.

“Whatever your old man thinks of you for coming back injured doesn’t matter in the end. Nor does the new kid. What you should worry more about is what I think of you after this. You’re not fighting Batman, you’re fighting me.”

“What if he doesn’t let me fight after this?” Nightwing… Dick whispers as he finally lays back down on the seats. He’s taken his mask off and is rubbing his eyes, perhaps quelling tears or a headache. Perhaps both. “What if my sight doesn’t come back? What if he retires me?”

Slade remains silent for a second, then answers as firmly as he can. “I’ve known plenty of formidable enemies who are missing a sense. You’ll find a way to get back up, and if he doesn’t let you then I’ll just have to break in, kidnap you, and train you myself.”

That startles a laugh out of Dick. “I thought you were no longer trying to get me to be your apprentice.”

Slade shrugs, allowing a smile on his lips, selfishly comforted that Dick couldn’t see it. “You have a lot of potential, kid, I’d rather you use it against me than not at all. I’ll train you and release you like the bird you are, and we can get back to the same ol’ dance we have.”

Dick takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah… okay. I’ll hold you to that.”

-o-o-o-o-

Slade parks the car in an old neighborhood in Gotham that has a considerable drop in crime compared to the rest of the city. All things considered. Though, the sun is beginning to rise and Slade’s positive the Bat knew he was in his city the second he drove into it. Dick knows this too, as he’s telling Slade to hurry up and get out of here despite the boy still looking green around the gills. Slade grabs his mask and armor, then turns to the stolen car he’s about to abandon and opens the back door near Dick’s face.

Suddenly, and rather embarrassingly, he doesn’t know what to say. Thankfully, Dick is a freaky empath sometimes and gives an exhausted smile.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’ll get through this.”

“Good,” Slade replies. “I won't let you quit.”

His grin widens. “Never.”

Then Slade closes the door and takes off quickly, only pausing on a distant roof to watch a large black figure and a smaller red-and-yellow clad child approach the car and catch sight of the injured bird inside.

From there, Slade turns and leaves, not looking back.

He’ll see Nightwing on the battlefield again. No matter what, Slade will make sure of it.

#dick grayson #nightwing #slade wilson #deathstroke #batman #whumptober2021 #no.6 #blindness #fanfiction #jin writes

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bookshelf-in-progress · 3 years

Text

Beneath the Surface: A Retelling of “The Frog Prince”

If I’d had any choice, I never would have taken the underground train. I had accompanied Roger to a political summit in the city of Roshen, but spouses leave after the opening speeches, and since I couldn’t leave Roger without the hovercar, I had to use public transportation. The train--built by the natives decades before humanity absorbed Arateph into the Interplanetary Coalition--was a horrible excuse for technology. It rattled me to my destination, jolted me into an underground station, and left me so shaken that I could feel my bones clattering as I climbed up the stairs to the street.

The crowd surged around me as I emerged onto the sidewalk. There were far too many tephans. You know what Arateph’s natives look like—almost like humans, but it’s an unsettling almost. Their eyes just slightly too high on their heads, their ears just slightly too far back, and hands (ugh) split into only three fingers and a thumb. Like a person shaped by a sculptor with a hazy memory of how humans look. I can take them in small doses, but in groups? My skin was crawling. I powered through the crowd as quickly as possible and tried not to let any of them touch me.

I sped several blocks away from the train station before I realized I was nowhere near my hotel. The buildings in this neighborhood were old, made of crumbling stone bricks that had been stacked by physical labor rather than printed by machine. Half the windows were made of colored glass, and half of those were broken. Garbage rustled in the gutters, holes marred the concrete sidewalks, and all the signs were written in an unfamiliar alphabet. I was, somehow, lost in a tephan neighborhood. And not a nice one.

I turned in circles, trying to figure out which way I’d come. Tephans watched me from storefronts and doorsteps and alleyways, and I kept walking to prevent them from figuring out just how lost I was. I was Priscilla Overton, wife of a Coalition finance minister, pillar of this planet’s elite—and human. Some groups violently opposed human rule, and tephan attacks against humans were on the rise. Who knew what these savages would do if they knew how helpless I was?

I rushed through narrow, dark streets until I reached a wider thoroughfare--a residential area with slightly less grimy apartment buildings. Still not a nice neighborhood, but not a place where I suspected otherworldly rats would tear the flesh from my bones or criminals would murder me for my technology.

I pulled my datapad out of my purse to look for directions. Dead.

I unfolded my wristcomm and tried to call for help. No signal.

I put my fist to my mouth to stifle a frustrated scream. Why did these things happen to me?

I stormed further down the street, cursing Roger for ever bringing us to this planet. We’d been happy on Earth. Comfortable. Respected. With no chance of wandering into streets where aliens stared at you with their off-kilter eyes. The rewards we got for helping to civilize this backward planet weren’t nearly enough to make up for this torture.

I turned a corner and found myself in front of a long, low yellow-brick building with dozens of small windows. The window boxes had flowers in them—fist-sized bundles of tiny red and gold petals. Not something you’d find on Earth, but...nice. Nice enough to pull me down from my fury and make me think I could give my wristcomm another try.

I powered down the wristcomm and stood next to a pink metal lamp post (Arateph has strange color trends) while I waited for it to restart. A metal grate was below my feet. These primitives still used storm drains! I shouldn’t have been surprised, since the road clearly wasn’t made of Draincrete, but it was still jarring. Living on Arateph was a strange combination of living on another world and living in the backward past.

My wristcomm buzzed, still powering up. I was ready to explode with anxiety. There were tephans straggling by—not many of them, but too many and too poorly dressed for my taste. To calm myself, I played with my wedding ring—a gold band with a spray of amethysts and pearls. The ring had been in Roger’s family for centuries. Some days, it felt like my last tie to a familiar world.

I kept my life on Arateph as Earth-like as possible, but it could never be the same as living on Earth. Alien things always lingered at the edges. Trees that turned purple in autumn instead of familiar orange. Toothy red-and-purple-feathered birds that rooted through the trash and woke me with their awful screeching. And around every corner, people who looked like grotesque parodies of my own kind. An entire world conspiring to make me constantly aware of how far I was from home.

My sisters were going about their own lives on Earth, and the few times we could afford appointments at synced comms stations, we found little to talk about--we literally came from different worlds. If Roger and I ever had children--doubtful but possible at our age--our families would only know them as data-images.

This was why I hated being alone on this wretched planet. Gave me far too much time to think about these things.

My wristcomm chimed—finally awake. I unfolded the screen and attempted to bring up my list of contact codes. I found Roger’s; he’d be in the middle of a meeting, but I couldn’t help that. I pressed the code and waited.

A discordant note sounded. No signal. I threw down my hand in frustration. My ring flew down with it. The golden band slipped off my finger, tumbled toward the ground, bounced off the edges of the grate, and fell into the drain.

I gasped in horror and fell to my knees. It couldn’t be, not now.

The ring sparkled in the sunlight, caught on a lip where the structure of the drain met the tube of the deeper pipe. I put my purse on the ground and slid my arm through the grate, but my arm got stuck just above the elbow. The ring was still a foot beyond my reach.

I burst into tears. I couldn’t help it. After the day I’d had—lost among tephans, fighting faulty technology, no hope of help from people who looked like me—this was the last straw. This planet had taken me from my home, my family, my friends, everything familiar, and now it was taking my one reminder of it all. Anybody would have cried.

Long before I felt any relief, a harsh voice broke through my sobs. “Are you finished yet?”

I looked up, furious at whoever was rude enough to interrupt my misery.

A tephan girl sat in the stairwell of the long yellow-brick building next to the gutter. I yelped and reeled back, tears still flowing. Have you ever seen a tephan child? They’re ten times worse than the adults; all their slightly-wrong features stretched even further out of shape, their eyes big and bulging in their heads. This girl was gangly. Her skinny limbs dangled out of baggy green clothes, and a wild brown bush of curls frizzed around her face and over her eyes. By human standards, I’d have judged her to be about twelve years old (though I have no idea if these creatures age like humans). By any race’s standards, she looked positively feral.

I couldn’t believe the creature had spoken to me. “Did you say something?” I asked.

She held up a thick book, bound human-style but with blocky tephan letters on the cover. “Can you cry somewhere else? I’m trying to read.”

She spoke Anglese with only a lightly slurring tephan accent. Somehow, this child spoke the Coalition’s language better than most of the tephan diplomats at Roger’s interminable meetings.

In my shock, I blurted, “How do you know Anglese?”

The creature rolled her eyes. “I go to school. With humans and everything.”

Roger hadn’t been in favor of the integration policy, but it apparently had some benefits. Or would have, had I any interest in talking to the child. Before I could decide if I wanted to reply, I glimpsed the ring again and burst into another involuntary round of tears.

The girl closed her book with a sigh. “What are you crying about anyway?”

I couldn’t tell her that I was crying because of her terrible, technologically backward planet and all its inhabitants, but I had to talk to someone and it was so good to hear human words, even from an alien’s throat. I pointed to the drain. “My ring,” I gasped. “It fell...”

She picked up her book, scrambled down the stairs, and peered in the drain. She huffed and rolled her eyes. “You’re making that much noise over that?”

I drew back my shoulders and snapped, “It’s an irreplaceable heirloom! Centuries of human history! You can’t get those stones anywhere but Earth!”

“Then you should have been more careful with it.”

That made me want to scream, but before I could gather enough breath, the child gathered the book to her chest and turned away. “Can you at least try to keep it down?”

As the girl sat on the building’s stone stairs, the wind tore a scrap of paper out of her book and sent it fluttering. She reached up and snatched it out of the air. My gaze fell on the girl’s arms—long, lanky things that were thinner than human arms. With four-fingered hands that could easily slip between the bars of the grate.

“Wait!” I shouted. “Little tephan girl! What’s your name?”

The girl cast me a dark, distrustful expression, but she finally intoned, “Tanza.”

Not bad, as far as tephan names went. I could pronounce this one. “Tanza,” I said, “Do you think you could reach it?”

The girl shifted her hand behind her back, her face becoming a hard mask. “What do you mean?”

I pointed to her, rambling in my excitement. “Your arms are thinner than mine. Just as long. You could probably reach...”

Her brow furrowed. “You want me to dig in a sewer?”

“Not a sewer,” I said. “A storm drain.”

“Still dirty.” She looked at the storm drain with narrowed eyes.“If I get it for you, will you go away?”

I wanted nothing more. “Immediately.”

"What'll you pay me for it?"

I felt like I'd been hit by a train. "What? Who said I'd pay you?"

The child pointed one long finger at the storm drain. “If I get dirty digging in there, it’ll be my tenth laundry demerit and I don’t get supper. I’m not doing it for nothing!”

The building behind her held one of the few signs I’d seen with Anglese translations beneath the tephan words: Alogath Charity Home for Unwanted Children. I could see why this child was unwanted.

“I don’t carry cash,” I told her.

“Do you have a credit stick?”

I put a protective arm over my purse. “It’ll be deactivated the moment you touch it.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need the whole stick. Just buy me something with it.”

A truck—a noisy, clanking tephan thing that actually rolled on the ground—roared past us. The glimmer on the ring shifted closer to the drain pipe. If I didn’t act fast…

“What do you want?” I asked her.

“A lot of things.” Her eyes went blank as she stared at imaginings only she could see. Finally, she declared, “A meal at the High Palace.”

She really said that! As if it were a reasonable request! I don’t know how this urchin even knew about human restaurants, much less the finest of fine dining establishments.

“That’s ridiculous!”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I lose a meal, you buy me a replacement. That’s fair.”

“Do you know how much a High Palace meal costs?”

“A lot less than it’ll cost you to replace that ring.”

I growled in frustration. The child had me backed into a corner and she knew it. I shuddered at the thought of taking this…thing into the sparkling society of a High Palace dining room.

I pointed a fierce finger at the child. “Only if you give me the ring immediately. Understand? There’s not a place on the planet a creature like you could sell it without suspicion.”

“I don’t want your ring. I’ll live up to my end of the bargain. And you’ll live up to yours, or that ring’s staying where it is.”

Of course I couldn’t really take her to the High Palace, but one more street-rattling truck could take the ring forever out of anyone’s reach. I’d have agreed if she’d asked for a hovercar.

“Fine!” I shouted. “I’ll buy you the meal. Just save my ring!”

The child placed her book on a clean patch of sidewalk and returned to the edge of the street. I snatched up my purse and stepped aside while the girl laid face down in the gutter. She slid her arm through the grate, all the way up to the shoulder. I held my breath for an eternal moment and didn’t release it until the girl emerged with a ring of gold and amethyst in her hands.

The ring sparkled merrily at me, grimy but whole. I snatched it from Tanza's hands and tucked it into an inner pocket of my gray blazer. I wouldn’t wear it again without resizing it—and not until I was in a neighborhood where I didn’t have to worry about it being stolen from my finger.

The child picked up her book and looked at me expectantly. Demandingly.

I couldn’t give her what she wanted. She was a complete stranger. I’d made the promise under duress. Not a court in the universe would hold me to it. What right did a tephan child have to make such ridiculous demands of a woman of my stature?

“Thank you,” I said. “You did a very good thing.” Then I sped down the street.

The creature was right at my heels. “The High Palace is the other way.”

I didn’t know if she was telling the truth. It didn’t matter. I walked faster.

She yanked at my arm. “You promised me a meal!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t get you into the High Palace.”

“A human lady dressed like you? You could get me in if you wanted to.”

I yanked my arm away from her. “What a pity I don’t want to.”

She gave a feral yowl. I started sprinting—or as near as I could manage in the heels I was wearing. The girl kept pace with me. I was a foot taller than her; why couldn’t I outrun her? Could I lose her in her own streets when I was lost myself?

Just when I thought I’d never be able to escape, I rounded a corner and saw the green-and-silver uniform of a Coalition policeman. My heart soared as I raced toward him. Help, protection, guidance, all only a few steps away. Something wonderfully human in this alien world.

“Officer!” I shouted to his retreating back. “Please, I need help!”

The officer stopped and raised a hand. A four-fingered hand. When he turned around, his face had the skewed proportions of a tephan face.

I nearly screamed. I’d stumbled into a nightmare.

The officer said, with the crisp diction of a tephan overcompensating for an accent, “Have you a problem, morik—madam?”

I’d heard that a few tephans had been admitted into the police forces, but I’d never thought I’d meet one. This tephan was young. Wiry and blond. Almost insignificant-looking if it weren’t for the uniform and the stolen sense of authority. Would he help a human?

Tephan or not, he had an obligation to assist the public. “Officer,” I gasped. “I need directions to the nearest train station. I’m trying to get home and this child is harassing me.”

The girl stormed up to him and shrieked, “She’s a liar!”

She shouted a stream of gibberish, and it wasn’t until the officer responded with similar sounds that I realized they were speaking the tephan language. Flowing, musical vowels were interrupted by harsh consonants, like rocks in a river. The sounds sent chills down my spine that only grew fiercer as the officer’s expression grew darker.

When the girl finished, the officer looked at me, not like an innocent victim needing help, but like a criminal who needed hauling to one of their barbaric tephan jails. “You have wronged this girl.”

I lifted my chin. “She’s lying! I’ve done nothing to her!”

“She claims she rescued your ring in exchange for a meal at the High Palace, and you are attempting to break your word.”

“I owe her nothing!”

“Did you promise her a meal?”

I threw out my hands in frustration. “It’s not like we had a contract or anything!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your promise means nothing without a legal document?”

“She had no right to hold me to a promise. I was desperate!”

He put a brotherly hand on the girl’s shoulder. “And she was kind enough to help you.”

I scoffed. “For a heavy price.”

The child shouted, “It’s one meal!”

The officer examined my face carefully. “You are Priscilla Overton, are you not? The wife of the finance minister?”

My jaw dropped. I’m prominent enough in human circles, but I’d never dared to consider that my face was known among tephans. It terrified me, but I knew it could be my ticket out of this. “I am, and when my husband finds out about how I’ve been treated—”

“Your husband is not a popular man. Not among tephans.”

I had never cared about Roger's reputation among the tephans. These primitives didn’t know what was best for their planet. But that wasn’t something I could say when I was alone in a strange neighborhood with two of them.

The officer continued, “It will not help his reputation if his wife is known as a promise-breaker.”

I couldn’t believe it. “Are you threatening me?”

He leaned toward me and said in low tones, “I am helping you.” He gestured to the street around us. “Do you think I’m the only one who heard the girl’s story?”

I shuddered to see a handful of tephans staring at us from among the crumbling buildings.

The officer said, “The Coalition doesn’t care much for tephan opinion, but if there is enough outcry against one man, even a human representative can be released from his job.”

At first, the thought lifted my spirits. Sent home! To Earth! It was what I’d wanted from the moment we’d stepped foot on this planet. But sent home in disgrace? Roger would have no future in government after such a public failure. It would mean everything we suffered here would be for nothing.

I asked the officer, “You really think they’d protest? Just because I didn’t bow to a child’s ridiculous demands?”

“If a person can’t keep a promise made to a child, how can anything they say be trusted?” His tephan gaze raked over me, like he was dissecting my inner thoughts. “Your people may have different ideas, but tephans still value virtue.”

How dare he—this puffed-up primitive in a human position of power—accuse humanity of being inferior?

My opinion didn’t matter. These creatures thought it a matter of morality that I feed this ragged brat finer cuisine than their planet had ever produced, and nothing I could say would change their minds. Now it seems ridiculous to think that those tephans could ruin us, but in that moment, alone in those unfamiliar streets, seeing how these two strange aliens teamed up against me, I could believe their kind capable of anything.

I looked down at the child. Her big eyes. Her frizzy curls. Her long limbs clutching the book to her chest. The grimy, bog-green clothes that fell short of the wrists and ankles. The smug smirk of a spoiled child who knew she was about to get her way. I had never loathed anyone more in my life.

“Do you have a name?” I asked her. “I’ll need a full name for the restaurant register.”

“I told you,” she said, as though she’d expected me to remember. “It’s Tanza.”

“What’s the rest of your name?” Most tephans I’d met had at least three or four names and were obnoxiously eager to explain them.

The girl's face darkened like I’d offended her. “Just Tanza.”

The officer looked at her with new pity, and even I understood why. You know how important names are to tephans. One name was a badge of dishonor--forever marking her as a child who’d never been claimed by any family, who’d never been given anything beyond the minimum necessary label. Tanza would have felt the shame of that, and I wasn’t quite so surprised that she’d turned into such an irritating little brat.

But I had no room for pity. “Do you have anything better to wear?”

She tugged at the cuffs, trying to stretch them over her arms. “Just more green. And all in the wash. Laundry demerits."

The officer said, "It'll do." He knelt in front of the girl, then looked at me and held out a hand. "I'll bet a fine lady like you carries all kinds of cleaning tools."

I sighed and handed him the nanocleanser from my purse. I showed him the power button, then he waved the metal wand over the stains on Tanza’s clothes. After a few seconds, the stains evaporated and the dirt from the gutter fell away as dry sand.

“Good as new,” the officer said, while Tanza gaped at her freshly-cleaned clothes. These primitives were astounded by the simplest things.

The child brushed through her wild curls with her fingers, swept them back over her shoulders, then stood with her hands at her side and feet apart, as if presenting herself for inspection.

I sighed. “I guess it’s as good as we’ll get. Let’s get this over with.”

Tanza tucked her book beneath her arm and her eyes sparkled with victory.

I looked balefully at the tome. “The book’s coming with?”

“Well, I can’t leave it here.”

I considered insisting that she take it back to the home, but I wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Fine,” I sighed. “Bring the book.”

I was seriously planning on entering the dining room of the High Palace with an alien who thought the proper attire included a set of green work clothes and a giant book. I had gone insane.

The officer stepped aside and gestured for both of us to walk past him. “I’ll escort you there.”

And there went my last hope of escape.

The officer escorted us through winding streets, side alleys and dried up canals until we finally crossed a bridge into a civilized portion of the city with human-designed buildings. One sprawling building of white stone-print bore a black sign with elegant script that proclaimed it The High Palace.

As we approached the building, Tanza suddenly skittered across my path. I almost tripped over her feet.

I glared at her as she fell into step on my right side. “What are you doing?”

She glanced warily to the street corner. “Kids from school.”

I glanced back and saw a pre-teen human boy with short black hair and immaculate clothing. He leaned against the corner of a building while he spoke with a handful of human friends. Well-groomed, friendly, human—why couldn’t that child have rescued my ring? I’d have been glad to take him as a guest to the High Palace.

As I engaged in fruitless wishes, the human children disappeared, and I arrived with my tephan escorts at the entrance doors of the High Palace. Wide glass windows showed a sparkling three-dimensional display of Old Paris in springtime. Tanza studied the images of bakeries and floral shops and fluttering Earth songbirds, as if attempting to dissect the technology. The few people passing by looked askance at the tephan pair with me.

Tanza asked, “Are we going in?”

I looked back at the officer. He just smiled at me and waved us toward the door.

I took a deep breath, put a hand behind the girl’s shoulders and pushed her inside.

The interior was a vision of white and cream: pale artwork on the walls, a glass fountain trickling crystal-clear water, rugs in intricate shades of vanilla, beige and ivory upon white marble floors.

The street sounds disappeared when the door closed behind us. No foot traffic, no rumbling vehicles, no screeching of alien animals. Just the hush of quiet voices, the gentle strings of a European symphony and the trickle of the fountain. It was like we'd stepped into a different world. My world. Except for the alien next to me.

The host standing guard at the dining room entrance stared at Tanza, then looked at me with the horrified compassion of someone trying to tell you there’s a wasp on your shoulder. “Madam, are you aware…?”

The only way to get through this with any dignity was to brazen my way through it. “I’d like a table, please. Two seats. For Priscilla Overton and guest.”

I thought his eyes would pop out of his head. “Your guest? You mean she—?”

“Is my guest. Is that a problem?”

He stared as if incredulous that I didn’t know the problem. I didn’t even blink.

Finally, he put a stylus to his datapad. “Does this guest have a name?”

The girl stood as straight and dignified as I did. “Tanza.”

He poised his stylus over the datapad. “Anythin—”

“Just Tanza.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he set his stylus aside. “Two seats for Priscilla Overton and…Tanza.”

The host led us into a blindingly beautiful dining room. A full wall of windows overlooked a river that glittered in the afternoon sun. The other walls were meshed with holonet that made the room look like a small nook in a formal European garden, with the tables and chairs surrounded by roses, tulips, lilies, and a thousand other flowers whose names I’d forgotten in my years away from Earth. Real potted plants scattered among the tables added to the reality of the image and the string quartet played some of the finest music from Earth's history. The room was a bastion of civilization in this barbaric world. A taste of home. It was more filling than any food could be.

The host led us to windowside tables with an excellent view of the river. My heart lifted. Prime seating—a sign of my place on this planet, which not even a tephan could take away. And it was flanked by two potted gardenia plants that would screen my guest from the handful of other diners.

I took the right-hand seat and motioned for Tanza to take the chair that sat closest to the shrub. Its branches brushed her as she sat down.

The host left us as a waiter handed us our menus. As Tanza sat down, she reached toward the branch above her head, plucked a single white gardenia blossom, shoved it in her mouth, and began to chew.

I froze in terror, then glanced at the waiter. Had he noticed?

If he had, he’d been well trained. He didn’t even stumble in his recitation of the day’s lunch specials.

“Would you like a few minutes to make a selection?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, yes,” I said, waving him away before my guest could decide to take another nibble of the greenery.

He bowed and vanished toward the kitchen.

When he was gone, Tanza spit the flower into a gold-embroidered napkin and wiped her tongue on the far corner. While her mouth contorted in the most disturbing shape, those tephan eyes glared at me. “That’s not a spiceblossom bush.”

“No,” I said, my tone stretched with scorn. “It’s a gardenia. And the blossoms aren’t for eating.”

She wiped her tongue on another corner of the napkin. “Why do they put flowers by the table if you’re not supposed to eat them?”

“For decoration,” I hissed. “And if you can’t behave in a civilized manner, we’ll leave this restaurant, promise or no promise.”

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t know all the fancy human rules of eating.”

Her sarcasm made my blood boil—until I saw her blush. She was prickly, yes, but unless I was very much mistaken, she was embarrassed. Now she was lost in an alien world, and I’d experienced that sensation too recently not to feel a little sorry for her.

But only a little. She had demanded this, after all, at great expense to me. Let her suffer the consequences.

“Rule one,” I said. “Don’t put anything in your mouth unless I tell you to.” I tugged her napkin out of her four-fingered hands before she could run it across her tongue again. “That includes napkins.”

With the napkin gone, Tanza's tongue was on full display in front of her chin as she kept the taste as far out of her mouth as possible. I don’t know if you know this, but tephan tongues can stretch further and thinner than human tongues, and this child made hers come almost to a point. I couldn’t look at that for the entire meal, but I couldn’t have the child destroying all the table linens either.

I waved over a waiter carrying a carafe of water, and I pointed him to our empty glasses. He leaned over our table and filled my glass almost to the brim. Then he turned and saw my guest—her pale skin, green clothes, those big eyes and that long, thin tephan tongue. He yelped, recoiled, dropped the carafe, and knocked over my glass. Water flooded the table and spilled onto my lap.

The child yelped, shouted something in her alien language and scrambled to pull her book out of the path of the water. An old man at the next table dropped his fork and stared at her. Fortunately, the few other diners in the room were too far away to see.

I hushed the child and found myself in the strange position of apologizing to the waiter while I was the one standing drenched. I didn’t know what reznat meant, but I was sure it wasn’t a nice thing for a tephan to say to her waiter.

“Could we...” I asked as I ran the nanocleanser over my clothes, “have another table?”

“C...certainly, madam,” he said, looking at Tanza as if waiting for her to pounce. I half-expected it myself, from the fierce way she curled around that book.

Once my clothes were dry, the waiter brought us to an empty table nearer the center of the room. No window view. No shielding plants. But it was further from the kitchen—where I was certain all the servers would be gossiping about us as soon as this klutz left us.

Once we were settled with new water glasses and dry menus, the server scurried away as if the girl were a poison frog. Tanza muttered alien words while she brushed water from the edges of her book, and gulped water until she got the taste of the flower out of her mouth. Then she glared at me and reverted back to Anglese. “He almost wrecked my book.”

After watching her lug that book around for an hour, my curiosity—and frustration—were mounting. “What’s that book about, anyway? And why are you willing to curse out waiters over it?”

“It’s a biography of Queen Marastel.” She set the book deliberately on the table, and looked around the room as if daring waiters to spill more water on it. “And it’s mine. I finally have a book of my own, and I don’t want it wrecked by an idiot with a water pitcher.”

The book was thick. What I’d seen of the print was small. It was not a children’s history book. I hadn’t expected this grimy alien child to be the biography type. Was there a developmental disorder that gave children irrational attachments to academic texts?

“Who is Queen Marastel?” I asked.

Tanza showed me the book’s cover. It had a picture of a young tephan woman—in her mid-twenties, to my human eyes—with a pale, narrow face, and deep eyes. The woman's dark hair was covered with an elaborate system of veils, and she wore a dress covered in so many white jewels and so much gray and white beadwork that I almost couldn’t see the ivory fabric underneath.

“Her,” Tanza said. “The last queen of Arateph.”

“Arateph had queens?” I asked in surprise. They hadn’t had queens when humanity had found them. It must have been part of their history.

I’d never thought of this planet as having a history. If I’d considered it at all, I suppose I’d assumed that they’d been muddling along the way we’d found them for the last few centuries, waiting for us to show up and drag them into modern civilization.

Tanza said, “The planet was ruled by a monarchy until about forty years before the Coalition showed up.”

“The whole planet?”

Tanza sat straighter and her diction became crisper—she looked like a little lecturer at one of those cultural symposiums that Roger and I always had to make appearances at. “After Kepha joined the other eleven kingdoms, the entire planet was united under the monarchy for three hundred and fifty-eight years.”

Not just a monarchy, but a planet-spanning monarchy. Such a thing hadn’t happened in all of human civilization, and these people had accomplished it when they were still on their home planet, believing themselves alone in the universe. I hadn’t thought such an archaic form of government could rule an entire continent without overextending itself, yet it had ruled their world for centuries. For the first time, I found myself wanting to learn something from the tephan people. How had such a government come about? How had they managed it?

Why did the woman on the cover look so sad?

I didn’t ask any of these questions because just then, a waiter appeared—not the water-spilling one, thank goodness. (I didn’t trust my guest to look at that one without throwing something at him.) This one was older, with crisp lines in his clothes and face. He looked like he could have won a staring contest with a statue—perfect unshakable professionalism.

“Are you ready to order, Madam Overton?” He didn’t even look at my guest.

Tanza’s eyes brightened as she picked up the menu, flipping through the pages to examine the options.

I asked her, “What you want to eat?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never had human food.”

My jaw fell. “You wanted to come here and you didn’t even know what you wanted to eat?”

She gave me a withering stare, as though I was the stupid one. “I wanted to try it.” She closed the menu. “Besides, you said I can only eat what you tell me to eat. So what am I allowed to eat, Priscilla?”

I picked up the menu and realized with horror that I didn’t know the answer. What could tephans eat? Were there foods that were delicacies to us and poison to them?

I asked the waiter, “Do you have any suggestions?” I doubted these people served many tephans, but food was their area of expertise, and we were on Arateph.

The waiter looked at Tanza for the first time. “I’ve heard that people of her...race...are rather fond of the amphibian.” He pointed to an entry on my appetizer list. “The frog legs are popular. And a specialty of the chef.”

I hadn’t eaten frog in years. But if I could choke it down for Roger’s political dinners, I could manage it to satisfy a petulant tephan child. “We’ll have that.”

“Excellent. Is there anything else?”

I didn’t want to give Tanza any more chances to upset the wait staff. “No. Just get us our food as soon as possible.”

As the waiter walked away with our menus, an afternoon crowd filled the dining room; within a few minutes, we went from being nearly alone to being surrounded by other diners. I could tell by the sideways glances that most of them noticed my tephan guest. And I could tell that Tanza noticed them. She sat silently at first, growing more and more tense as we all tried to ignore each other, but when a bald man at the next table stared at her for several long moments, she finally snapped.

“Can you stop it?” she barked at him. “You’re giving me the shivers.” The man, red-faced, studied his menu as if his life depended on it.

Tanza turned back to the table, muttering, “You humans look so creepy when you stare.”

I was too stunned to scold her. I’d never considered that the distaste for the other race’s looks went both ways. If she’d lived her life in a mostly-tephan neighborhood, a human face would look just as slightly wrong to her as a tephan face did to me. It sounds strange, but the idea that she found us ugly made me like her more. It certainly made her more relatable.

But I couldn’t have her making a spectacle. “Please, don’t bother the other diners.”

She seemed ready to protest, but I spoke before she could argue. “That woman in your book. You said she was the last queen of Arateph. What happened?”

Her eyes lit up, rude diners forgotten, as she flipped open the book. “Revolution. The People’s House took over and had her and the king executed.”

I shivered. “So violent. And so young to die.”

Tanza gave me a confused look, then glanced at the cover and understood. “Oh, that’s from her first years as queen. She was almost seventy when she died.”

I pictured the woman on the cover with hair turned gray, but the same dark, sad eyes, facing an angry mob as they led her to the scaffold or the firing squad or however these people killed their leaders. It was brutal, but humanity had often been equally brutal, so I couldn’t dismiss it as their backward alien culture.

Tanza flipped through the pages. “They say she was weak and self-absorbed, but this book gives her more depth.” She looked at a page near the cover. “Verai’s a good scholar. Uses lots of primary sources. Very readable.”

Now that her interest was unleashed, Tanza talked on and on, taking me through an alien history, the tale of a queen beset by tragedy upon tragedy as she helped her husband rule a crumbling planet and struggled to produce an heir. All the scholars at those Coalition events were nowhere near as enthralling as this alien child sharing her favorite book.

As fascinating as the story was, I was even more entranced by the pictures—dozens were embedded through the text. Tanza condescended to turn the book around so I could see. It was grandeur like I’d never seen, buildings in alien colors and shapes and patterns, but bringing to mind the grandest palaces in human history, from Versailles to the Forbidden City to the red spires of the North Martian Emperor's summer home. The people in the pictures wore elaborate, brightly-colored clothes, and feasted upon vast tables full of unfamiliar food—including blossoms from the potted trees next to the tables. No primitive civilization could have created such a culture. No wonder this alien urchin was enthralled, and no wonder she’d seized the chance to attend the closest modern equivalent to such feasts that she knew of.

The return of the stone-faced waiter snapped me back to reality. He planted himself next to the table, passing blank-faced judgement by how thoroughly he didn’t look at the book or the way we bent over it. Face burning, I sat back in my chair and felt ashamed to be caught hanging upon an alien’s story like a dim-witted child.

Tanza swept the book under the table and sat primly as the waiters placed the food in front of us. First a gold charger, then the crystal plates bearing the food—ten frog legs, crisply fried in butter and lemon, dotted with parsley and surrounded by a handful of greens.

Half a dozen nearby heads surreptitiously craned in our direction.

The waiters set a similar platter in front of me, and after I’d arranged my napkin on my lap, I thanked the waiter, picked up the silverware, and began to cut the meat.

Tanza watched me carefully as the waiters left. She picked up her silverware, examined it closely—did tephans even have silverware?—and tried to imitate me, but when she touched the food, the prim little professor became the feral street child again. She still used the silverware, but that was her only concession to decency as she gobbled her foot, downing the frog legs almost whole. The butter sauce ringed her mouth and splattered on her clothing. She made the most inhuman snorting noises as she swallowed.

Now everyone was staring—the red-faced man at the next table, his three dining companions, the ten people sitting at the other nearby tables, the waiters who'd halted on their way to the kitchen. People murmured to their companions. Diners flagged down waiters and asked discreetly if there was something that could be done.

My face burned in embarrassment, but I couldn’t stop the girl. With all these eyes watching me—watching me, Priscilla Overton, entertaining an animal at the finest restaurant in Roshen—I couldn’t even speak. I wanted to sink into the carpet. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to run from the restaurant, flee from this planet, and return to comfortable, civilized Earth. But mortification left me paralyzed. I just sat and did nothing as Tanza devoured her food and licked every last drop of sauce from the plate.

Finally, she dropped her plate back on the charger and leaned back with satisfaction. Her big tephan eyes were bright. “That was amazing.” She licked all eight of her fingers, so lost in the euphoria of her food that she was unaware of the horrified crowd surrounding us. She looked at my plate with confusion. “You’ve barely touched yours.”

I let my fork drop to the tablecloth. “I’m not very hungry.”

Her eyes brightened. “Can I have it?”

“No.”

She gave me a disapproving look. “You can’t waste food. At least try to eat it.”

After that display, I’d never be able to stomach another frog leg. “It doesn’t appeal to me.”

“Then I’ll eat it.” Before I could react, she leaned across the table, speared a frog leg with her fork, and was chewing it before she settled back in her chair.

I wanted to scream. I could have tried to correct her, but I had no idea where to begin, and by now, it was far too late.

The stone-faced waiter leaned over my shoulder. He was pale and his eyes were wide—apparently there were some things that could rattle him. “Madam, if you cannot eat your food here, we can send it home with you.”

He was offering me a doggy bag. The finest restaurant in the city, which usually recoiled in horror from such vulgar practices, was so desperate for me to leave that the staff were sending me home with leftovers. I was, in effect, being kicked out.

I didn’t even care. “Yes, thank you.”

In seconds, another waiter appeared, carrying a green box that had probably held some kind of produce in the kitchen, repurposed into this restaurant’s first take-home container. I sat in silence as they poured the frog legs into the container, then I handed them my credit stick, and when I examined the payment screen of their datapad, I added on a gratuity that cost twice as much as the food did. Perhaps with a tip like that, they’d let me show my face here again. At the moment, I doubted I’d ever want to.

I gathered my purse and stood. That creature gathered her ridiculous book and followed me, smiling, out of the dining room.

When we reached the lobby, I thrust the box into the child's hands. “Take it. I don’t want it.”

The girl's eyebrows rose. “You don’t? Are you sure? It’s really good.”

“I think it appeals more to tephan tastes.”

She thanked me as though I’d given her all the jewels that the queen on her book was wearing, then tucked the box under one arm and the book under the other.

I put a hand behind her shoulders and pushed her out the door. When we emerged onto the sunlit sidewalk, all my frustration exploded.

“There!” I snapped, giving her one last push beyond the awning of the restaurant. “You’ve had your meal. Take your food and go!”

She stumbled forward, then stared at me in bewilderment. “What set you off?”

My laugh was tinged with hysteria. “What set me off? Maybe I’m just a little peeved at being disgraced in front of some of the richest people in the city by a tephan who gobbles her food like an animal.”

She stood with her mouth open, struck speechless. Those big green eyes showed surprisingly human-looking hurt. “Was it that bad? I know I’m not fancy, but...”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t notice all those people staring.”

The creature turned red. She stammered, “I thought it was because I’m tephan. You told me not to bother them.”

I couldn’t bear to have that creature looking up at me with those big, sad eyes. I didn’t want to feel sorry for her. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Maybe in a few years they’ll let me dine there again.” I pushed her steadily but firmly away from the restaurant. “I have more than paid you in full. Thank you for saving my ring. Goodbye.”

Still looking baffled, the girl trudged away from the restaurant. I walked in the other direction.

My anger started fading the moment the child was out of my line of sight. Each step away from the restaurant felt like a step back into a normal world. There were humans around me. I could read the signs. I even knew how to find my way to the train station. I’d be back at the hotel within the hour and I could pretend that this whole horrible afternoon had been a bad dream.

Light footsteps skittered behind me. A green-clad tephan child with a book and a box appeared to my left.

I yelped and reeled back. “What are you—?”

Tanza fell into step beside me. “I’m really very sorry for embarrassing you. I need to make it up to you. Let me show you the way to the train station—”

My previous anger felt like a candle flame compared to the volcano that those words set off within me. “Leave me alone!” I towered over her in my fury. “I gave you your meal! I fulfilled the promise! Now leave!” I stormed away, but at the first sound of footsteps behind me, I whirled around. “I swear, if you take another step toward me, I will see you arrested!”

The child’s face hardened into the petulant mask that I recognized from my first sight of her from the gutter. “Sorry for helping.”

“Helping,” I mocked. “Your help comes at too high a price.” I gave a short, cynical laugh. “I see through your plan. You think you can trail after me demanding handouts all day. Well, I have had enough.” I secured my purse over my shoulder like I was holstering a weapon. “Get out of here!”

Face white and lips tight with anger, Tanza bowed her head and turned away. I strode away in triumph.

An old man looked at me sideways, shaking his head. I made it to the end of the block before the guilt hit me. The old man had reason to disapprove. Tanza had made an offer of help, and I’d responded by screaming at her in a public street. Perhaps she had felt remorse. As embarrassing as it had been to be seen with a girl who ate like an animal, how much worse would it feel to be the one who’d done it? I thought of those pictures in that book of hers. Would I have fared any better at a tephan feast?

I turned around. “Tanza, wait—“

“Hey, Tanza!”

The voice, coming from the other end of the block, was louder, harsher, and younger than mine. A crowd of boys stampeded down the sidewalk—all humans, about twelve years old, and led by a boy with slick black hair and gray and white clothes in the latest crisply-cut fashions. The children Tanza had noticed when we’d first arrived at the restaurant.

Tanza—standing near where I’d left her—tried to move away from them, but hesitated when she saw me standing at the other end of the block. In seconds, the boys had her surrounded.

The ringleader prodded her shoulder. “Escaped from your cage, Tanza? What are you doing among civilized people?”

His yellow-haired friend poked at the box of frog legs. “Looks like she’s looting houses.”

Tanza yanked the box away. “I’m not a thief!”

The ringleader tugged at the book under her other arm. “That’s a big book. Still playing at being smart, small-brain?”

Tanza pulled it back. “Don’t touch that!”

One boy pried up her arm while two others slid the book away from her. “Ooh, it’s a small-brain book!” the ringleader said in mock delight. He flipped through the pages with dirt-stained fingers. “It’s even written in their pretend letters.”

Tanza snarled, “Give that back!”

He slammed it shut and pulled it toward his chest. “Why? Scared it’s too complicated for me?”

“It’s mine!”

He looked at it thoughtfully. “Is it, though? I don’t think a charity case like you can afford a big book like this.”

“It’s mine!” she repeated, nearly shrieking now. “Teacher gave it to me!”

“Bet she stole it,” said a voice from the crowd. “She’s just a grubby little nameless charity house thief.”

Tanza, driven past the breaking point as the ringleader held the book just beyond her reach, shrieked in outrage and pounced. She tore at the book while the boys yanked it away from her. The individuals disappeared into a storm of arms and legs and paper. Five against one. I watched in terror for a few moments before thinking to call for help. I had my wristcomm. I could hit the emergency button….

It was over before I could lift my wrist. Tanza was sprawled across the sidewalk, surrounded by the shredded, dirty pages of her book. Her box had been torn open. Fleshy frog legs were scattered on the ground as though the animals had been thrown against the wall.

The boys, barely scuffed, loomed over her, mocking. They lifted the empty binding of the book like a trophy, cheering over it and slapping each other on the back. Then, satisfied with their destruction, they ran off the way they came, leaving their victim on the ground.

Numbly, I shuffled toward her, feeling lost in a different sort of nightmare--one where I was one of the monsters. Those boys had been waiting for her. If she’d had an ulterior motive for coming after me to apologize, she had been hoping for protection, not handouts. And I’d thrown her to the wolves.

Tanza pushed herself onto her knees and pulled the pages toward her, like a mother hen gathering up chicks. She looked more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her, eyes wide and glistening, her face slack with horror. Her emotionless mask was gone. She pressed an armload of shredded pages to her chest, curled into a fetal position, and cried.

Curled up like that, face and hands hidden, she didn’t look like a tephan. Not like the rude negotiator at the gutter. Not like the little professor or even the animal at the table. She was just a friendless little girl, surrounded by the wreckage of her most prized possession.

I thought of the last time I’d seen her lying in the street, arm threaded through a storm drain while she reached for my ring. The ring was in my pocket, safe and whole. How had I thanked her for her service? Tried to duck out of the promise, treated her like a savage, screamed at her in the streets, and left her at the mercy of bullies.

The ring I loved so much was one of dozens that I’d brought from Earth, and my day had been destroyed at the thought of losing it. This book was the only one she owned, and it was gone forever. I couldn’t imagine her distress.

How had I thought her the savage?

My stomach twisted with loathing, and for the first time all day, it was directed toward myself. I could fool myself no longer; I’d done nothing to be proud of today.

But that could change.

Approaching Tanza with soft, careful steps, I crouched next to her. “Tanza?” I brushed a finger across her shoulder.

The girl recoiled from my touch and turned away. She came up on her feet, but stayed scrunched into a ball, protecting her pages and hiding her red eyes.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

Her voice was thick with tears. “Go away.”

I grabbed one of the pages. “I can help—“

She whirled her head toward me and snapped, “I said go away!”

I stumbled back, and for a moment I was ready to do as she wanted. This was not my problem and she didn’t want my help.

Then my good sense returned, and I barked, “Don’t be stupid. I’m not going to leave a child in the street.” I started gathering pages. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

I looked around for help. The crowd had merely started taking a wider berth around us, but after a moment, I saw the green and silver flash of a Coalition policeman’s uniform—on a policeman with tephan hands.

I’d never thought I’d be glad to see that officer again. I waved toward him, shouting, “Officer! Please, can you help?”

My voice startled the officer, and his surprise turned to concern as he neared and saw the devastation. He crouched next to us and asked me, “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” I said. The twist in my stomach reminded me that those words weren’t the complete truth, so I amended, “I didn’t destroy the book. There was a group of boys...”

The officer had already turned his attention to Tanza, speaking low-toned words in their tephan language. When they finished, his demeanor toward me was less hostile but more disappointed.

“Now you want to help her?” he asked.

That now was an accusation that cut like a knife. I deserved it, but I met his gaze boldly. “Yes,” I said, daring him to deny me.

He spoke a few more words to Tanza, then told me, “Gather pages.”

He helped Tanza to her feet while I gathered what I could of the paper. Torn edges, smeared alien words, and pictures of long-dead royals who stared at me with accusing eyes. The queen providing food to the poor, shelter to the homeless, clothes to shivering orphans. She’d done all that and wound up executed; looking at Tanza and the tephan officer, I couldn’t help wondering how much worse they thought I deserved.

When I’d gathered all the pages I could into a crinkling, crunching mess, I followed in silence as the officer led us along the route we’d taken, every block seeming as long as a mile. When we reached the familiar yellow building where everything had started, I gave the pages to the officer, and he motioned for Tanza to go toward the stair of the building.

“Is there anything else I can do?” I asked Tanza, almost desperate.

Tanza just turned her head away.

“I think you’ve done enough,” the officer said. The words were soft, but I heard the condemnation in them.

I shouldered my purse more firmly, avoided Tanza’s eyes, then asked the officer, “Can you tell me where to find a train station?”

The officer pointed down the street in the opposite direction from where I’d originally approached the building. “The nearest one is just beyond the Killing Square.”

The words shocked me out of the numbness I’d been feeling. “The what?”

But the officer was already rattling off directions, and I was too busy memorizing the steps—left, then right, past the purple tower, turn two blocks after the bridge—to ask what exactly a Killing Square was. I didn’t think a uniformed police officer would purposely send me to my death, so I assumed something had been lost in the translation.

“Thank you, officer,” I said when he finished. Then I looked at the girl and added, “Thank you, Tanza.”

Tanza's green clothes—now scuffed from battle—hung loosely off her slumped shoulders. After a long moment, she raised her head and looked at me from beneath lowered lids. “Goodbye,” she said.

Her tone meant, “Good riddance.”

My pride flared at that. I thought I'd been rather compassionate--helping her gather the pages, hailing the officer, even trailing her all the way to her home to make sure that she arrived safely. Surely she could show a little gratitude.

But as I walked through the narrow, battered streets, it was my own rudeness that haunted me. Snatching the ring from her fingers as though afraid she'd contaminate it. Fleeing from her rather than fulfilling the promise. Leaving her to fight five against one when a moment's action on my part could have saved her. All day, I'd thought myself better than her because I was human, but my actions had been inhumane.

I tried to put it behind me. There was nothing else I could do. The book was gone, beyond repair. Tanza probably never wanted to see me again. It was best to move on and forget all about the tephan girl and the dark-eyed queen that so fascinated her.

Then I turned the corner and came face to face with Queen Marastel. A picture on the gray stone wall, larger than life, showed the woman whose face I’d seen a hundred times in Tanza’s book. I stopped in my tracks, mesmerized. The image was a photo, more or less, but not like any photo or holo-image I’d ever seen from human technology. The colors were more muted than reality, while a strange vibrant shimmer added depth to the image, so it looked as though I could walk inside the pictured scene with a little effort.

The queen’s hair had gone completely gray, her jewels were gone, and her vividly colored gowns had been replaced by a white fabric sheath. What I noticed most were her eyes—they were striking in most of the book photos, but here, her gaze knocked the breath from me. Surely no human gaze could show that much sorrow.

How was she here? Would this queen haunt me wherever I went on this planet, reminding me of my sins against the child?

I noticed a small plaque next to the picture, with a tiny Anglese translation at the bottom, which explained that the image showed Queen Marastel in front of this very building, moments before she was led to death in the center of the square. “Oh,” I said aloud, turning slowly to examine the streets and buildings around me as understanding struck. “The Killing Square.”

This was the center of the revolution that had ended this planet’s monarchy. It was a hauntingly bland neighborhood; no sign of the violent destruction that Tanza had told me of, not after more than eighty years’ worth of repairs. But pictures and plaques decorated almost every building I saw, telling the story that time had erased. Seven brothers from Kepha stood scarred but proud before a jeering band of executioners. A red-haired older woman tried to cheer up three children as armed rebels escorted them all to prison. The king himself stood tall and white-haired, every line of his face showing his fierce love for his planet even as his people tried to kill him.

I could list examples all day, but I could never make you understand the feeling of being there, gazing at these people in the moments before their deaths. They were young and old, tall and short, had hair and skin in every imaginable shade. They came from regions I hadn’t known existed--desert wastes and mountain ranges and snow-covered tundras. These people had families they’d hated to lose, homes that were as familiar to them as the cottage by the Atlantic had once been to me. They’d made mistakes and suffered for it. They, too, had regrets.

Fear, anger, hatred, love, bravery, cowardice--every possible human emotion filled those alien faces, and it didn’t take long for me to stop seeing them as alien at all. They were people, who’d lived on this planet just as I did, who had loved it the way I’d loved Earth.

I’d never even wanted to know about this world before, but now I was desperate to understand every story these pictures presented. Without Tanza’s book providing context, would I even have paused to look at these pictures? Would I have cared about these people? I doubted I would have. Tanza's childish enthusiasm for a book had upended my world--as I’d upended hers.

With that thought, I found myself back before the picture of the queen. Her sorrowful eyes pinned me in place. It seemed, to my overworked imagination, that she was disappointed in me.

I glared at her. “What else do you want me to do?” I demanded. “What’s done is done. I can’t fix it. I don’t even know what book it was.”

In that hall of death, it seemed a pitiful excuse.

I tore my eyes away from the picture, and my gaze landed upon a door I’d wandered past in my history-induced daze. It was brown and wide, with a sign above proclaiming it the entrance to the Museum of the Alogath Execution Center. I wandered toward it, then froze in my tracks only a few steps away. Next to the entrance was a window—and through the window, I saw books.

This was a museum! Museums—even tephan ones—had gift shops! If there was one place in this world that sold books about Queen Marastel, it was likely the museum that displayed her face on a public street.

I raced into the building, almost giddy, and found the shop just beyond the main entrance. The tiny nook held pamphlets and trinkets, and at the front of the room, a big, silver BookVend machine printed and bound volumes with lightning speed.

I raced through the door. The tephan woman behind the counter dropped her book in surprise as I leaned, panting, against her counter.

The woman asked in smooth Anglese, “Can I help you?”

I stood up and tried to look less like a maniac. “Yes,” I said, in my best politician’s-wife voice. “I need you to help me find a book.”

The door to the charity home loomed large in front of me. I hesitated with my hand before the door. Was I doing something stupid? The freshly-printed book under my arm might not change the fact that the child would want nothing to do with me.

This wasn't about me. I had to try.

My knock was answered by a pale, knobby tephan woman with wisps of blond hair hanging around her face. She stared when she saw my face and clothes. “Madam?”

“Excuse me," I asked, "but does a girl named Tanza live here?”

The woman's eyes glazed over as she struggled to translate my Anglese.

I tried again, speaking more slowly. “Is Tanza here?”

“Tanza…” She trailed off in confusion before her eyes lit with understanding. “Oh!” Gently, she corrected, “It’s pronounced Tanza.”

It sounded exactly the same to me. I was starting to believe those people who said tephans could speak and hear sounds that humans couldn't.

The woman called into the building, and after a storm of voices and footsteps, a slight tephan girl in green clothes came to the door, her curls making a curtain over her still-puffy eyes.

Tanza scowled when she saw me. “What do you want?”

I took a deep breath and stepped forward. “I wanted to apologize,” I said. “For what happened. How I treated you. You saved my ring and I treated you like an animal. That was wrong.”

Tanza crossed her arms. “Glad you noticed.”

This child kept finding ways to irritate me, but I swallowed my words before I snapped back in response.

I pulled a book from under my arm. “I know this doesn’t erase what you went through, but I wanted to undo some of the harm that I’ve done today.” I handed her the book, which had the same cover as the book she’d brought to the restaurant. “This is for you.”

Warily, Tanza examined the queen on the cover. “It looks the same.” She flipped through the pages, and her eyes brightened. “It is the same!”

“I printed a new copy. There’s a BookVend down the street. You rescued my ring; it was only fair that I replace your book.”

"Yes, but I didn't think..." She examined the book in amazement before turning that astonished gaze upon me. "This is really mine? To keep?"

“Yes, of course,” I said.

Tanza clutched the book to her chest and smiled at me, positively radiant. That smile transformed her from a feral orphan into a polite little princess.

I couldn’t keep from smiling back.

“Thank you,” Tanza said. Then she saw the other book under my arm. “What’s that one?” she asked, as though hoping it was for her and not daring to ask.

I pulled it out and showed her the cover. It showed the same image of the queen, but this time above an Anglese title—The Queen of Sorrow. “The Anglese edition,” I explained. “This one’s for me.”

If I’d thought she was happy before, it was nothing compared to her radiance now. “You’re going to read it?”

I shrugged. "I couldn't resist. You made it sound so interesting."

She bounced on the balls of her feet. “Wait until you get to Chapter Five. That’s when she first meets the king, and you would not believe the uproar it causes."

She set down her book, grabbed mine, and started flipping through the pages, desperate to show me the start of the story.

From down the hall, an adult voice barked, “Tanza! Don’t bother the woman. I’m sure she’s busy.”

Embarrassed, Tanza closed the book. She pushed it back into my hands. “Sorry. I don’t get to talk about it much.”

“I don’t mind. You’re an excellent instructor.”

Her eyes brightened with hesitant hope. “I could show you more. If you want.”

“I’d be grateful.”

Tanza called over her shoulder. “Garsa! Can I have a visitor in the study room?”

The tephan woman appeared in the entryway. She blinked, taken aback. “As long as she leaves before supper."

Tanza looked up at me. “Do you want to stay?”

No tephan had ever asked me that question before. In all my time here, I’d been an outsider. An invader. I’d never had the desire to be anything more. But those words, coming from Tanza, felt like a welcome.

I was glad to receive it.

I put a hand on Tanza’s shoulder and smiled. “I’d love to.”

#arateph #fairy tale retelling #sci-fi

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makoodlesarchive · 5 years

Text

a gift

pairing: bakugou x reader

summary: drunk reader finds a kitten in an alleyway and brings it home to surprise their boyfriend bakugou. it doesn’t quite go to plan

word count: 2030

i uploaded this last night but apparently it didn’t work properly ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ so here we go again

It was possible, that you were maybe, a little bit drunk.

You stumbled a little on a kerb, but managed to keep yourself on your feet as you clutched the little furry bundle in your arms to your chest. A quiet giggle bubbled out of your lips, but you kept hurrying along in the darkness - it really wasn’t a good idea to be out on your own at night on the streets, especially while drunk, but it had been your coworkers birthday party and you would have felt guilty if you had missed it. Still, maybe the rum had been a bad idea.

Your pocket was buzzing. You squinted down at it, puzzled. It buzzed twice more before you realised it must be your phone ringing, and then you fumbled to answer it one-handed. “Hello.” you said, hoping you sounded at least a little sensible.

There was a pause, before you heard. “[Y/N]?”

“Katsuki!” you tried to whisper, but it came out far too loud. You frowned, puzzled, then tried again. “Katsu-ki!” it came out quieter that time and you smiled, satisfied.

“Where are you?” he sounded irritated, but you knew him well enough to be able to hear the subtle undercurrent of amusement in his tone.

“On my way home.” The furry little bundle in your arms squirms a little, and you peer down at it in delight. “I have a gift for you!”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” you turn left at the donut shop on the corner, and put a little more speed in your step as you come up to your apartment. “I found it in an alley, just now.”

“You’re bringing me something you found in a fucking alley as a gift? How fuckin’ drunk are you?”

“Tipsy!” you correct with a frown. You struggle for a moment to find the keys to the front door with one hand, the other arm cradling your precious find while your shoulder kept the phone pressed against your head. “Are you coming over?”

“It’s 2am, idiot.”

“Okay.” you say easily, keeping your voice low as you slip in the front door; the walls are thin in your building, and the last thing you need is Mrs Namamoto from down the hall giving you another lecture on keeping the noise down. You don’t think you’ll ever forgive her for her claims that your ‘heavy gait’ keeps her awake at night.

“Tch.” Bakugo said, then paused for a long moment. When he spoke again, there was a vein of forced casualness in his voice. “I’m on my way.”

“You don’t have to.” You press the button for the elevator, listening to the rattling sounds of it approaching.

“Fuck off. I’ll be there in a few.”

“I can just see you tomorrow, Katsi.” you say as the elevator arrives and you absently press the button for your floor. “It’s no big deal, you don’t have to go out of your way or anything.” Fatigue has hit you now, probably as a result of the alcohol. You feel sleepy, and listening to Katsuki’s deep, rumbly voice always has a way of relaxing you further.

“Whatever, asshole. I’m nearby anyway.”

You smiled at the tinny sound of the wind whistling through the phone. “Nearby? At 2am?”

“You got a problem with that, fucker?” Katsuki said, a little bit too fast and a little bit too breathlessly for it to be entirely believable.

You laugh a little as you step out onto your floor, and as you step up to your door the little animal in your arms stirs. You had found the kitten in the alleyway outside the bar your work friends had been in, where she had been rustling through the garbage rummaging for something to eat. Scooping her up and bringing her home had seemed like the right thing to do - she was so small and thin, you didn’t like to think of what might happen to her if she was left on her own in that dank alley.

“Hello, pretty baby.” you coo as the kitten blinks up at you, slow and lazy. The alcohol turns your words a little syrupy and they slip out slower than you’d intended, but at least you’re not slurring.

”Who are you talking to?” Katsuki asks, a little suspicious now.

“Hm?” you ask, heading for your small living room. You had almost forgotten you were still on the phone, distracted by the little ball of fur in your arms. “You’ll see in a few minutes!” Your balance is a little off, but you manage to curl up on your beat up old couch without disturbing the kitten.

The sound of Katsuki’s impatient tongue clicking sounds distant over the phone, but the familiarity of it still makes you smile. You position the kitten carefully on your chest, making soft little cooing sounds to try and keep her docile and unafraid; it seems to work, because she lays passively just below the hollow of your throat, taking in her surroundings with dark eyes. She’s such a sweet little thing, so mild and gentle.

“Few blocks away now, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

You hum, satisfied at the thought of seeing your boyfriend in a few short minutes. “Guess you weren’t that close by at all, huh?” you laugh a little as Katsuki grumbles, and run a hand down the kitten’s skinny back. The fur is oily and a little matted in some places, no doubt as a result of the time she spent on the street. Your heart goes out to her, and you sigh quietly as you pet her. She doesn’t purr, which you find a little odd, but then you consider the fact that this might be her first contact with humans and you get sad all over again.

You doze off, just for a few moments, but come back fully into wakefulness at the sound of the door to your apartment creaking open. The kitten has fallen into a light doze of her own, and so you sit up with the utmost care as you watch your boyfriend slide into the living room. “Katsuki.” you whisper, beaming as your thumb strokes the length of the kitten’s back.

“Did I wake you-” he begins, but he breaks off as soon as he turns his eyes your way.

Your beam just gets bigger, and you gaze at him excitedly. “It’s a kitten!”

Katsuki stands frozen, still half bent over from toeing his shoes off. His mouth hangs open, his forehead scrunched. It’s not his usual scowl. “Ah.” he says, sounding strangled.

Your smile falters a little, confused by his unenthusiastic reaction. You had thought he would be more excited - the more you sober up though, the more you start to wonder if your lack of impulse control had impaired your judgement. It might have been the rum, either. “I want to keep her.”

“[Y/N].” Katsuki says, approaching slowly. You frown at him, a little bewildered at the uncharacteristic caution he was displaying; it’s not as though you were going to attack him. “That… is a rat.”

You gasp, scandalised, and pull away from him as he approaches, clutching the kitten to your breast. “Katsuki!” you snap. “How could you say that? She’s underfed and a little ragged, maybe, but she’s been living on the streets! She just needs a little love and care! What the hell is wrong with you!”

“With me?!” Katsuki shouts reflexively, then squeezes his eyes shut tight and takes a deep, forced breath. When he speaks again his eyes remain shut, but his voice is steadier. “Babe. That’s a rat. Give it to me now. It might be diseased.”

You stare at him, hurt, bewildered, and still a little tipsy. “I think I know what a rat looks like, Katsuki.” you sniff, but you can’t help the doubt that begins to creep in and you steal a look down at the kitten(?) that is still laying pliantly in your arms. Grey/black fur, little pink nose, rounded ears, long hairless tail.

You blink at her, feeling a bit betrayed. “Right. Okay. Hm. This is a rat.”

“Give it to me.” Katsuki says, his voice stiff with forced calm.

“No!” you blurt, holding the kitten rat protectively. “I rescued her.”

Katsuki’s shoulders twitch, his jaw clenching against his aborted movement. His calm is beginning to crack around the edges. “I think,” he growls, “It was probably happy where it was. Give it to me, before it decides to go feral and chew your dumb face off.”

He’s right, obviously, but you still frown. You can’t help but feel protective over the little guy. “Lots of people have pet rats.”

“Yeah, but not sewer rats found in alleyways, idiot.” Katsuki’s calm facade fractures, but the look he shoots down at the rat in your arms is a combination of panic and disgust with very little of his usual annoyance mixed in. “Has it scratched you anywhere? Or bitten you? You could get really fucking sick.”

“No.” you say quickly, adjusting your hold on the dozing animal. “She’s been a perfect angel!”

Now it’s Katsuki’s jaw that twitches from where he’s clenching it so tight. “Of course it has.”

“I don’t see why she can’t stay.” you say, scratching the rat behind its ear. She flicks her tail, but otherwise sits placidly still.

“Because it’s a rat!”

“I let you stay!”

Katsuki’s nostrils flare dangerously. “At least I ain’t gonna eat you in your sleep!”

You pout. “Aw.”

Katsuki momentarily looks like he’s going to explode, his palms sparking ominously until he clenches them tight into fists. “Let it sleep on the fire escape.” he says at last, apparently having come to the conclusion that you’re not going to back down about this. “Decide whether you’re gonna keep the gross fuckin’ thing in the morning.”

You bite at your lip sharply, thinking. It’s becoming increasingly obvious that your ridiculous, emotionally-constipated boyfriend is worried about you, and you don’t like causing him stress. Besides, his suggestion really isn’t all that bad. You just hope the little guy will be there in the morning and that she doesn’t wander off in the night. “Okay.” you say quietly, and a little reluctantly.

Katsuki exhales, quick and sharp, then stands to make room as you move off the couch, still clutching the rat. “Don’t let it fuckin’ bite you.” he says, hovering at your shoulder as you move toward the still open window. “Watch it!”

You set the rat down very gently on the fire escape, and watch as it moves immediately to the corner and begins sniffing around. Now that you’re looking at it from a bit of a distance, you’re really not altogether sure how you had mistaken it for a kitten; you supposed you could blame that on the rum, too. “She’s a good rat.”

“Right.” says Katsuki, a little doubtfully. He frowns mistrustfully at the rodent, who has started to wash its face with its paws, and then at you when you awww over it. “You’re such a dumbass. D’you know how many diseases they carry? It’d be fuckin’ embarrassing if you’d had to be hospitalised cause you got scratched by some gross rat.”

“Lucky I didn’t then, hm?” you smile in an attempt to appease him.

His scowl remains fixed for a moment or two, then his shoulders relax and he presses a kiss to your temple. “Don’t put yourself at risk like that again.” he says seriously, then adds hesitantly, “It was...a nice thought, I guess. I want a better present next time.”

Grinning, you reach up to cradle his face, only for him to catch you by the wrists. “Shower first.” he says, grimacing at your hands and making you laugh for real. The sound of your laughter pulls a genuine warm smile from him as he directs you towards the bathroom.

It’s when you reach the bathroom that you hear a low chuckle, and you look back to see Katsuki shaking his head a little. “What?”

It’s Katsuki’s turn to grin at you, his white teeth flashing in the dim bathroom light. “I’m just thinking about how much Kirishima is going to love this story.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagines #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #mha bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader

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kiru-da-ho-beeeech · 4 years

Text

In which DIO's vampire blood manifests, driving Giorno into becoming absolutely FERAL

Also, I hc everyone in the gang to be a lil bit of a yandere so forgive me if this turned out dark

Sugar Daddy AU - Don Giorno Giovanna

Warning: NSFW, wild Giorno, consensual physical abuse, aged-up characters, all characters are of legal age, this is an AU

At age 32, Giorno was still young enough to hold the title of a bachelor. Yet, there was a part of him that had begun yearning for someone to love and nurture. Starting a family or a romantic relationship weren't options that he considered because he believed his position in the Mafia would endanger the ones he loved. So instead, he donated large amounts to charities and orphanages in an attempt to quell his strange urges. However, watching the smiling children he had helped from afar did nothing but exacerbate his need to take care of another person. He wanted someone who would smile the same way just for him.

In addition to this, Giorno had also developed a taste for sleeping around. His libido was at an all-time high, and no amount of sex had so far been enough to satiate it for longer than a few days. It was extremely frustrating, especially since he was busy most of the time and had to stave off his needs in the most unsatisfactory of ways-- by relieving himself.

His discontent with things eventually escalated so much that it began to disrupt his daily life. He'd acquired a sudden moroseness and was often irritable. His own trusted colleagues began avoiding him at great lengths, and even Mista won't talk to him on days when his temper was especially bad. His cruelty towards his enemies had spiked through the roof, which made him even more of a fearsome figure in the Mafia. He was more ruthless in his pursuit of drug dealers and human traffickers in Italy. Like a bloodthirsty murderer, he destroyed everything that got in his way and did not give a shit about it.

It was at this time that Bucciarati sat him down for a man to man talk. Head buried in his hands, he spilled his unusual desire to the dark-haired man, to which the latter only nodded in understanding.

"Don't be alarmed, Giorno. This is normal. At one point, a man would want to settle down to establish and make sure that his lineage will continue. It just surprised me that you would start wanting to do it this early on in your life, and with such intensity too."

cough cough DIO Brando genes cough cough

Giorno expressed his aversion in forming any sort of romantic commitment with anyone and the reasons for it. Bucciarati hummed, looking deep in thought, before he looked back at Giorno, "Have you considered adopting a child?"

Giorno shook his head, "I don't think I have the capability to be a good parent to a child, Bucciarati."

"What about being a parent figure to an adult, then?" Giorno was only confused for a moment before Bucciarati followed his suggestion with, "Become someone's… benefactor."

Giorno blinked, the words slowly sinking in his mind. He knew that what the older man meant by saying benefactor was to essentially be a Sugar Daddy, and he had to admit that the idea wasn't so bad. A commitment where romance didn't need to be involved, and one that he could end anytime. He could pamper and sleep with someone as much as he wanted without having to invest his emotions on them.

And so the search began...

You were as broke as a sewer rat and was about to be kicked-out from your apartment when an acquaintance from one of your classes called you, asking if you would be interested in a part time job. Your classmate was offered a job by a relative but could not accept it due to their stuffed schedule. You've already agreed before they'd finished the explanation, though. Of course, this was just what you needed! You were so desperate to survive that you would take whatever opportunity the universe would spare you. Your classmate eagerly gave you an address and a time and date. As you jotted down the details, you thought of the strange way your classmate all but pleaded for you to accept, but shrugged it off as their relative probably urgently needing the position filled ASAP.

When the day of the interview arrived, you finally understood why.

If the expensive company car hadn't clued you in, then the armed men who had picked you up and blindfolded you on the way to the venue certainly did. They escorted you inside a place with the blindfold still on, and only removed it upon arriving in front of a pair of large Mahogany doors.

'What have you gotten yourself into?' You ask yourself. This was no ordinary company, this was the Mafia. You trembled with anxiety as one of the men knocked to announce your arrival and you heard a faint "enter". You were roughly ushered in when the door was opened.

Your eyes were then promptly met by the sight of one of (if not the most) handsome man you had ever seen in your life. Standing by the floor to ceiling window with his long golden locks plaited neatly and swept over his shoulder was a man. His resplendent emerald eyes shone in the dark as he regarded you with a blank face from the other side of the unlit room.

"Leave us." His tone was soft yet steady, laced with the unmistakable timbre of authority. The men wordlessly followed and closed the door on their way out, leaving you with who might possibly be the big boss. "Sit." He gestured to the large chair. Your body moved with the command as he also sat himself across from you, a huge desk separating you from him.

He introduced himself as Don Giorno Giovanna. The next few minutes were filled with extreme tension on your part as he began asking you questions. Your name, age, address, the college you attend, your major, whether you have another job, etc… It honestly felt more like an interrogation than a job interview. Finally, he asked: "Do you know what you're here for?"

"Err… I thought this was a job interview?"

Giorno tilted his head, "I guess you can say that. You're here because I want to be your benefactor."

There was complete silence afterwards as he watched you process his words. Finally, you spoke "L-Like… a sugar baby?"

He slowly nodded, never taking his eyes off of you. His belly stirred with the familiar signs of arousal and his eyes held a glint as he watched you bite your lip in thought. Oh, how cute you looked while you sat there uncomfortably shifting.

You seemed to consider it for a while before nodding your head in return. Giorno finally let himself smile as he stood. He walked around and placed his hands on your shoulders, "Don't worry. I'll take very good care of you, cara."

And true to his words, he did. He spared no expenses in making sure that you were well-cared for. He paid for your tuition fees, gave you a ridiculous amount of allowance, drowned you in gifts, took you to the priciest places for meals, and even got you a Ferrari. Of course, these were all not for free. In return, he sometimes asked you for your help around the office in addition to your scheduled date nights spent sprawled across his bed.

Since you came, he had been so much calmer. He was back to his old self. His friends thanked you and treated you with a respect that a sugar baby is not commonly given. It made you wonder why, but it was unbeknownst to you that you have somehow managed to tame a beast.

You quickly discovered that Giorno was a very hypersexual man. He turned to sex for relief from almost any emotion that overwhelmed him. Although he was by no means heartless, his temperamental bedroom personality was something to both fear and look forward to.

He never told you to call him "Daddy" during sex, yet the first time the name accidentally slipped from your mouth, he rammed into you with such raw power that his headboard got dislodged from the bed shaking too harshly.

He was a delicious cocktail of dominance, attentiveness, and generosity. He would put you in your place when you're being too bratty and make sure you got as much pleasure as he did. You were certain he's had his mattress replaced a couple of times because the springs might have gotten ruined with the force he had fucked you into it.

He had bent you over his desk and fucked you there more times than you cared to count.

On days when he's extremely stressed, he calls for a physician to be on standby because you were always so sore to the point of not being able to walk in the morning. He would profusely apologize, but you continued to assure him that it was fine and that this was all part of your arrangement. Besides, it's not like you didn't thoroughly enjoy yourself as well.

Giorno on the other hand, always felt so guilty. Whenever he saw the bruises on your body and how helpless you looked, he would think that maybe it was time to stop. He was abusing your kindness in exchange for material things that really held no value. However, the thought of never being able to touch you again never failed to convince him otherwise. He needed you to keep him sane, someone to pour his senseless affections to and someone who would respond in kind. A cure to the venom that slowly consumed his soul.

He had never felt so incredibly evil and dirty but for now, he would exploit the fact that you had to keep your end of the bargain up. Even if it meant dragging you down the same hell that he was in.

#vento aureo #giorno giovanna #don giorno giovanna #but he's WILD #physical abuse #not sfw

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kimmimaru · 3 years

Text

Writing another Tseng/Reno fic. I think this one will be just a one-shot, but then again these things tend to get away from me lol. Essentially Reno and Tseng are sent to the Gongaga area to check out some bandit activity (post Advent Children) but there’s a lot more bandits than they realised and Tseng gets injured so they end up lost in the jungle. Honestly it’s just an excuse for me to write feral Reno lol. Here’s what I have so far;

“Chief,” Tseng groaned, turning his head away from the voice. “Chief!” Someone shook him, causing him to attempt to shove the offending hands away. He blinked, wincing a little as aches began to make themselves known. “Director...” Slowly the voice became recognisable and Tseng's vision cleared enough for him to see a face staring down at him. He grunted a little, his mouth too dry to speak. Reno frowned, “Yo,” He said, “You awake?” “Water...” Tseng managed to rasp, lifting a hand to putting it over his eyes. “Oh sure.” Reno moved, the sound of objects being shuffled around and then he was back, pressing a cold metal bottle against his arm. Tseng tried to sit up but pain throbbed through his stomach. He grunted, making to clutch the affected area but Reno stopped him. “I wouldn't.” He said, helping Tseng sit up. “You don't wanna re-open that wound, yo.” Tseng squinted through tangled hair, finally coherent enough to take in their surroundings. They were in what appeared to be a run down hut. He could see the empty door frame, surrounded by vines. Outside insects chirped and whirred. Birds twittered in the trees. “...What...” He cleared his throat and tried again, “What happened?” “You don't remember?” Reno frowned and Tseng noticed he had dried dirt in his hair, a scratch ran down his throat, not deep enough to be a concern. His jacket was missing and his shirt was torn, dried blood staining the cuffs and collar. “The president sent us here to investigate some rumours of bandits in the area. People've been goin' missing.” “Ah...yes I remember.” Tseng said, taking a sip of water from Reno's canteen. It was battered but serviceable. “And how did we end up here?” “Well, when you got hit I grabbed you and ran.” Reno's nose wrinkled, “And...uh...guess we're lost.” “Lost?” Tseng narrowed his eyes, looking askance at Reno. “What do you mean?” Reno rubbed at the back of his hair, “Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn't really payin' attention to where we were goin'...I just had to get you outta there.” “We're...lost.” Tseng repeated, blinking as his exhausted mind tried to process everything Reno had said. “In the jungle.” “Yeah. That about sums it up.” Reno looked away, towards the entrance to their sheltered little hut. “Good job I found this place. There's a river close by, so we got fresh water. I dunno about food...though I can set up some traps. I used to hunt rats back when I was a kid and we had nothin' else to eat.” “I'm not eating rat.” Tseng muttered, looking down at himself. His torso was bare except for some bandages wrapped around his mid-section. “It's not so bad, yo. If you close your eyes you can pretend it's chicken.” Reno smirked. “Are there rats in the jungle?” Tseng asked, finishing the water and setting the flask aside. “I dunno.” Reno replied, “But there's gotta be somethin' we can eat out here. The bandits must have some kinda food source.” “Our phones, do we have any signal?” Reno held his phone out, “Nothin'. Dead as a doornail, yo.” “Damn.” Tseng sighed, “Well, the president knows our rough location, it won't be long before he sends someone after us.” “The bandits aren't camped that far from here, yo.” Reno said while putting some of their supplies away. “Is that where you got all this from?” Tseng nodded towards the small pile of medical supplies. Reno offered him a smirk, “I wasn't gonna just leave without some pay off. I got bandages, surgical sutures and some pain killers. They put up some watches but they're mostly drunk so it was too easy to sneak past 'em.” “Did you get a map or something?” “Doesn't look like they have any. 'least not one I could get to.” Tseng sighed, “So we just sit here and wait.” “Gongaga's close by, right? Maybe when you can walk we can try and find it.” “I don't think it will be that easy. If we're caught again by those men out here, we won't stand much of a chance.” Reno sighed, leaning back on his hands, “So, we wait.” “Mm.” Tseng lay back on his bed of leaves and stared up at the sky through the hole in the roof. “How did you find this place?” “Dunno, stumbled across it by accident.” Reno replied, turning to look back at Tseng over his shoulder, “Thought it was as good a place as any to set up camp.” “A good find.” “Thanks. I've slept in worse places, yo.” Reno laughed under his breath, “One time I had to hole up in an old sewer pipe, now that was bad.” “We have shelter and a source of water, we should be ok for a while.” Tseng winced, holding his wounded stomach. Reno noticed and moved closer, crouching beside him. “You ok?” “I will be.” Tseng said, taking a breath. “There were a hell of a lot more of them than we were told about.” Reno grumbled, shaking his head, “Bastards are better trained too.” “Ex-military, judging by the way they handled their weapons.” “When I went into their camp I noticed they had some explosives.” Reno lowered his voice, head tilting thoughtfully, “If they let their guards down again I could go back in and-” “No.” Tseng shook his head, “Not without back up.” “Why not? They won't see me.” “You can't guarantee that. I won't take unnecessary risks. The intel was bad, we have to retreat and regroup.”

“You sure, boss?” Reno cocked his head, hair stiff with mud and probably blood. He was filthy but seemed at ease among the curling vines and mud. “Yes.” Tseng sighed, “For now we wait for contact from headquarters and further orders.” Reno nodded absently, “Guess I'd better go see if I can get us some food then, yo. If we're gonna dig in here, I can set up somethin' to give us warning if we get any visitors.” He paused, thinking, “Gimme a day and I can keep watch on our friends, I'll report back if anythin' changes.” “Be careful, Reno.” “Aren't I always, boss?” Reno flashed Tseng a grin as he pushed himself up and brushed down his shirt, “White is gonna stand out too much.” He said to himself as he ducked out of their little hidey hole. “I'll be back before dark.” He promised and faded into the shadows of the trees.

#reno/tseng #my fanfiction #tseng/reno

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kenjiro-s · 5 years

Text

Behind Crystal Waterfalls

Akiyasu Kurahashi x Kagemaru

The cave was filled with the soft sound of rumbling water and Kagemaru rolled his shoulders back under his cool kimono. He was losing precious hours of sleep to deal with this so he hoped it worked out.

Judging by the several voices he could identify, his Sentinels had done their job well. The quiet Tengu twins who walked on both his sides had delivered their reports in short clipped tone and he was glad he had put his hair up in a ponytail when he’d woken up that afternoon. Things were going to get messy.

The three men hung from hooks in the stone ceiling, all tied up and fully restricted, and it took the one near him a moment to register the new presence in the cavern. Kagemaru looked them over.

The one closest to him looked…familiar but he couldn’t place the face. Not that it mattered. Now, who was the leader…

- Who, the fuck, are you ? Did your pimp send you here as an apology for attacking us ? ‘Cause I’m down for that.

The other two men kept silent. His question answered, Kagemaru allowed his claws to extend, hand still curled in the folds of his clothes. He still paused to check himself, making sure he looked exactly how he was supposed to. Loose obi, kimono open up one leg…Nothing out of the ordinary.

The leader had called him a prostitute. Kagemaru sighed, tapping his lip with his folded fan. A civil adult man would not be offended by the remark, especially with the image he had been crafting so carefully. Too bad for those three that he wasn’t exactly civil, then.

- I could ask the same thing. – He stepped around the bodies hanging from the ceiling, almost smiling at their struggle to spin in the ropes and keep him within their sight. Cute. They tried to keep some of the power in the room. How very naïve. – Because see, you were caught poaching in an already claimed territory.

The men went silent. He allowed them to look at each other, obviously trying to communicate without words. It might have been impressive if they didn’t sway gently like cocoons with every movement.

- I want to talk to your boss. – Ah, so it wasn’t “master” anymore, was it ? Kagemaru snapped the fan open, letting the air curl around his hair. Three pairs of eyes followed him around like feral hounds and it would be pathetic if…No, actually, it was pathetic. They were definitely a sad excuse for criminals. He shook his head.

- You are. – Their expressions froze for a heartbeat. They looked at each other again.

- I’m talking about the owner of the filthy den by the theathre. – Filthy ? The excuse for a human being dared to call one of his establishments “filthy” ? He kept his face placid and his little smile on, but inside was calculating which patch of skin was the most sensitive to pain.

- That would be, as I already said, me. – Kagemaru made sure his fan was moving slowly and barely moving his hair. – How can I help you, gentlemen ?

- You. – Kagemaru raised an eyebrow in response. – Fuck off and get me your boss. Now.

That was rude even for him. He remembered Akiyasu calling that one soldier he’d probably disemboweled “vulgar” and how disgusted he’d sounded. The man in front of him had to be happy he himself wasn’t that easily offended.

- If you would like to do business in the Entertainment Quarter, you should show some respect. Otherwise, well, there has been a serious wraith problem in the Capital recently. You never know where they will pop out from. And who will end up another statistic.

- Are you threatening me, you little…

He could see the cogs turn…turn…turn…and click. The leader’s lip curled up in disgust and he huffed a breath out. – Oh, I’ve heard of you. You’re that demon, right ? The one who takes his clothes off and then chews through gullible teens’ throats. A blooddrinking slut.

- Do you think you are helping your case ? Because form my point of view…

- My brother will have you and your pack of rabid yokai put down like the mangy mutts you are.

Kagemaru could hear the heavy silence from behind. His Sentinels would never react to such a lame insult but he wasn’t so noble. He only liked to pretend he was.

- Your brother ? – The man spat on the ground. What was with lowlifes and spitting recently ? Akiyasu had said the same, that one of the soldiers had spat on him. Such a disgusting habit. He hadn’t managed to hit his pretty new kimono so that was good, at least.

- He will have you decapitated on the city square. Yokai were supposed to be killed off years ago and a public execution will definitely list the spirits of the people.

- Tell me something. – He folded his paper fan again. – How did you think this was going to work ? You and your men escaping form here ?

The leader swayed a little more in the rope, glaring at him. Kagemaru simply dragged his fan down the man’s throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob as the swallowed. He could almost taste…

Fear. Behind the insults and bravado the man was afraid. And so were his subordinates. Terror. Good.

He smiled. Wave of terror washed upon him and he relished in it. He’d thought about letting the waterfall wash their insides down the river but the filthy mouth of the ringleader and their shared fear was making him want to play a little.

- You know what ? I am feeling generous. Just to show you that I am open to discussions and negotiation. And always willing to let such young entrepreneurs as you to thrive in my city. Of course, you would have to show me you are willing to work for me, but I am willing to make amends. What do you say ?

- What I’d say ? – Kagemaru cocked a hip and noted with mild repulsion that the men’s eyes still went up and down his bare leg. How very simpleminded. Those were the kind of people Saotome would probably stumble upon out of sheer bad luck and then her Ayakashi would rip them apart. Hm, now that was an idea. Make them be somewhere where the stupid little girl would be…Two birds with one stone. But the leader wasn’t finished yet. – I’d rather slit my own throat than to work for a whore spider. How’s that for an answer, Jorōgumo ?

He didn’t sigh. Not this time. He would have let them go with a good scare. He would have. Considering how tired he was, he really didn’t want to bother. But the “whore spider” comment…Kagemaru had a thing for that specific name for his race and it really, really ticked him wrong. “Whore spider”…This, added to the prostitute implication, made him think they had a certain opinion about him that he didn’t feel too good about.

So he just walked around the wriggling bodies, letting a claw graze each and every man. Usually, he would go for a flashy and painful spot but he had done what he’d had in mind and now just wanted to go and sleep. So, quick incisions on their forearms, where the ropes had bunched up their sleeves it was and he was done.

- If you seek a healer, hmm… - Kagemaru looked at his bare wrist. – Within the next half an hour you might manage to keep all your vital organs in a working condition and have almost normal lives. I’d hurry, though, the venom works quickly. Untie them.

The last one was directed to the pair of Tengu by the door.

- The reason I am letting you go is because I value power. Which you don’t have. And killing you would honestly be such a mess. Not worth it. So here are the conditions. Pack your rubbish and your useless little guards, and leave the Capital. No harm, no foul. I forget about you, you forget about me. Do we have a deal ?

- Fuck you, demon ! – He shook his head.

- Twenty four hours starting now. If you haven’t left by the end of the countdown, we would talk again. Oh, and I would really look for a healer now, if I were you. That thing will liquefy your insides.

And then he turned, stepping out of the cavern, trusting his Sentinels to untie the men. That could have gone better, he guessed. Maybe. He just needed rest.

A few hours of no sleep later, he was buried in a pile of paperwork that was leaning dangerously to one side on his desk when something crinkling dropped on the formal letter he was reading. Jumping back and almost impaling the newcomer’s eyeball on his pencil, he caught himself on time and dropped back in the chair. He was usually all about teasing Akiyasu because the man was just way too stuck up to bypass, but today he had way too much work and also was sure the three morons from earlier would not pack up and leave like the good boys he’d pretended they were. No, he was sure they would stick around, try to wreak havoc and then he would have to pull out their spleens through their ears.

- Boss. Fancy seeing you here. – Not. He was in his office right across from the opera and it was almost time for the performances for the evening to start. He didn’t have much time before the whole quarter echoed with music and laughter, and he really wanted to catch up on the papers at least a little.

- Saotome’s awaken another Ayakashi bond. – Kagemaru waited, hand holding the fountain pen in a loose grip above the paper. And, kept waiting. And more ?

- Cool…? – Akiyasu narrow his eyes behind his glasses. Honestly, Kagemaru knew he had to show some kind of empathy to his current kind-of-boss, but he couldn’t find it in him. Not when the little sewer rat’s words rang in his head.

- Cool ? You understand this could ruin all of our plans, right ? Are you thinking about that ? Can you even comprehend how serious this is and how much it can mess everything up ?

Was he ? Obviously not, judging by what people seemed to think. He was apparently just a pretty little arm candy, not capable of a single coherent thought. Smoothing down his silk kimono, he spun the pencil around his fingers, silently gloating at how Akiyasu’s eyes followed the movement. Easy. Too easy. And he was supposed to be the dumb one ?

- This might come as a huge surprise, Onmiyoji-san, but I am fully capable of using long words and doing complicated calculations in my head. So, yes. I can, in fact, think about that. I know it clashes with your opinion of how all yokai are a little more than rabid beasts walking on two legs, occasionally, but it is a fact.

Akiyasu just frowned at him.

- Whoever you’re talking about, it’s definitely not me. So if you can focus on the problem on hand, that would be…

- Actually, no. – He hadn’t realised he’s stood up. – I can’t focus on the problem on hand. And based on everyone’s opinion of me and my kind, I don’t have to. Right ? All I need to do is smile prettily and be the lapdog and decoration of a bigger, stronger, more masculine man. Or am I wrong ? Boss.

Akiyasu kept frowning, hands loose at his sides.

- I have literally never said any of that. What’s wrong with you today ? Anyway, as I said, Saotome is doing whatever she thinks would help her, so I wanted to ask you of you have someone trusted we can get to keep an eye on her while she’s at school.

Kagemaru carefully put his pen by the stack of papers on his desk, keeping them perfectly parallel.

- As you might notice, if you tried for a moment to pay any attention to anything outside of your little revenge plot, I am busy. Responsibilities, you know. Some of us have to work for our food.

- Listen, Spider… - And then he froze. Good. Kagemaru exhaled and lowered himself back in his chair. Akiyasu, standing completely still, had his eyes glued to his own hand on the desk where Maelstrom was slowly moving a leg and seemingly not in a hurry to move. – Call it back.

- Call her back ? Why ? You seem to be perfectly fine talking to spiders, don’t tell me a pretty little girl like her is scaring you.

- What…is…she ? – He was catching up fast. Kagemaru propped his chin on his hand, feeling Tempest settle on his shoulder. Akiyasu had the decency not to flinch at the sight of the second tarantula.

- Poecilotheria metallica. Ornamental tree spiders, if you think the actual name is too complicated for you, what’s with all the syllables. Beautiful, aren’t they ?

Akiyasu, on the other hand, seemed to reach some kind of conclusion. Lowering himself slowly, he squatted in front of the desk without moving his hand and looked at Maelstrom, checking her out from as many angles as he could without disturbing her.

- Definitely. Is she a pet ? – He also appeared to be trying to check all the corners of the room for more tarantulas. Cute how he thought he would see them if they really tried to hide.

- They all are. – The cogs turned. Turned. Turned….and stopped.

- How many…do you have ?

- Twelve. – Oh, that was going to be fun. Maelstrom was completely still and Akiyasu had gotten bolder, nose almost touching her brilliant blue body. Only, Kagemaru hadn’t mentioned one little detail about the breed. And since he knew his spiders…

A human, even with supernatural sight and reactions, would have a hard time seeing a Poecilotheria metallica move and register it. And Akiyasu hadn’t been expecting it. Which was why when Maelstrom jumped and made contact, the other man dropped like a rock on his ass and scrambled back. Only, he couldn’t really escape since the spider was hanging tight. To his cheek. And then he raised his hand…

- If you slap her, I’m cutting the arm at the elbow. – Akiyasu froze, eyes wide and glasses askew. Across the entire room, silver webs glittered in the dying daylight, reflecting the sun like razorblades. Around Akiyasu’s wrists, silk glittered like water, blood beading and dripping down. He could feel it colour the web, soft little vibrations making him taste his victory in the still air. It slid down his throat like ash and he dropped the webs, feeling Maelstrom scurry to her hole on his bookshelf.

Akiyasu sat on the floor a breath longer and then got up, dropping his sleeves down, seemingly not caring about the red dripping from his fingers.

- So, are you in or not ? – Kagemaru paused by his desk, hand almost reaching for the ornate fountain pen on the desk.

- And what can I be of help with, boss ? – He chose to lean backwards on the wooden surface instead, cocking his head and crossing his arms. Akiyasu shook his hand a little, dripping more blood on his handwoven rug and pushed his glasses up his nose.

- I need someone who can pass for human completely. Saotome’s been taking her two-tailed yokai with her to her college recently and with all the bonded demons awakening, I want to keep a closer eye on her. I also know you employ all kinds of individuals and that if you want to, you can have someone watch her.

Kagemaru twisted his lips in distaste. He employed all kinds of individuals, huh ? Now what, he was valuable for something other than his looks ? He replayed the conversation.

- Why would they need to pass fully for a human ? I thought you didn’t teach her to read energies.

Akiyasu shook his head with a disgusted frown.

- It’s one of the lecturers. I suspect he’s not human and he seems to be really fond of Saotome. I wouldn’t want him to notice something.

- Are you actually hinting you want me to go ? – Akiyasu looked up from pulling his sleeve which was starting to stick to his bleeding arm.

- I don’t want them to attract attention. If it were you, the professor will try to get in your pants in about three seconds.

- You got a problem with that ? – Now the other man crossed his arms again, face cold.

- I have a problem with you actively trying to ruin my plans, yes. Definitely. What, did someone burn a warehouse of opium of yours or something ?

Kagemaru raised an eyebrow. He’d heard enough of another famous and rather vulgar expression to recognise purposeful evasion. But Akiyasu was like that, wasn’t he ? Proper all the way…until he reached the point where it clashed with his plans.

Still. He huffed in annoyance, getting up to pull out his emergency bottle of almond liquor. It was that kind of a day. Raising the heavy bottle, he didn’t bother looking over at Akiyasu. The man should have been used to his bad habits already.

- Some kid and his gang of useless lowlifes were selling dirty stock outside of the theatre by the planetarium. Two of my clients are in the hospital with life threatening sepsis and one of them lost an eye.

Akiyasu blinked. Well. Someone was surprised. Because he cared enough for his business to keep track of every little thing or because he actually got that involved ?

- Someone dared to try to sell something stronger than artificial and fully nonworking vitamin C on your territory ? – The other man pulled on his sleeve again, frowning at the way it kept sticking with blood. – Are then suicidally dumb or just suicidal ? – At his expression, Akiyasu pushed his glasses up his nose. – What ? Everyone knows of you and how you don’t leave witnesses unless it’s good for your business. I am just wondering which clan they are from so I would know who not to talk to about future plans. Kids these days, honestly…

- Washijo. – The other man just waited. – The moron on top is his grandson. – He shook his head, taking a big swallow from the bottle again. – Let’s see if they manage to find a healer fast enough to stop their bones from melting in their bodies.

- You poisoned them ? – Kagemaru shrugged with one shoulder.

- I don’t take it lightly when people try to kill my clients. I also don’t take it lightly when people call me a “whore” and imply I sell my affections by the hour to the highest bidder.

- You also have all the doctors in the Capital on payroll. They are probably dead already. – Akiyasu rubbed his eyes. – That man will come here and bring war.

Human were supposed to be empathetic, weren’t they ? Because he would expect that comment from his mother but not from the man who was claiming to fight for justice. Oh, he knew Akiyasu was rotten to the core, one didn’t go that far with a pure heart. One also didn’t learn to suck cock like that in two tries after being a virgin but that was a different matter. Point in case, that had been cold even for the one who had befriended a gullible girl just to sacrifice her and her friends on the altar of pointless revenge.

- And ? – Akiyasu stared back for a moment before turning on his heels and leaving in a flurry of robes. – Hey ! Come back, you…

- I got a ceremony in the shrine tonight and have to prepare. Don’t bother coming over, it’s a private event. – Kagemaru knew his mouth was hanging open. He’d never been disregarded with such little care. People begged for his attention and that one human thought that just because their goals aligned for one very narrow period of time, he could just order him around…

Private event. He felt silk bite into his fingers, the thin white threads drowning the room in reflections. Private event. Akiyasu Kurahashi, the shrine priest who was so high above the calls of the flesh it had taken Kagemaru months of chase to get him naked on his back in his office in the opera, and the man was entertaining company like nobody’s business. Probably that was why he’d been distracted recently, and when he went along with his teasing, he went all the way fast and easy. Because he wanted to be done and go to his lover pure and calm.

And the only person he had shown more interest recently was…

Kagemaru was going to have Saotome kicked out of the city, dishonoured and broken, left with nothing but her own fragile mind. If she was the one stealing his one access point to Onmiyoji power, he would take her father and her powers, her bonded yokai and her career. Her beauty. If the bitch dared to spoil his plans, he would show her why Jorōgumo had some of the nastiest reputation from all yokai. People didn’t just cross him and get out unscathed.

But that would have to wait a few hours. He signed the letter to the Inugami who ran the underground hospital right beneath the lake. The man going and checking the unfortunate souls who had taken the contaminated opium was all he could do for them at that point. He sincerely hoped the venom would kill them. Because if they came back…

Now. Work. Smile, sing, dance, be pretty. Don’t think of Akiyasu and Saotome losing their clothes on the moonlit meadow behind the shrine or he would find her and take her pretty eyes out. The night was just starting.

Just as the sun was rising, he stumbled in his flat above the biggest restaurant in the Capital. He needed to wash off his make up…right now. He could feel it itch and burn his eyes and cake on the strands of hair sticking to his face.

Oyama, the officer who’d come on the scene, hadn’t even had the decency to look surprised. The bastard.

The man who’d bled out on the floor, on the other hand, wouldn’t look surprised anymore. Ever. His nice kimono was dripping with blood, his sleeve was ripped and the place where the absolute piece of shit had bitten him was turning a disgusting black colour. The dead man probably had some kind of contagious disease and that was why his arm was going blue and purple.

- Tatsuomi said he’s never seen such an accurate stab wound in his entire career.

Kagemaru paused, kimono dropping to the floor while he blinked the black all over his face away. What was Akiyasu doing there ? Was his mysterious lover such a bad lay he had to come here to scratch his itch at five in the morning ? Also, Tatsuomi…

- He deserved it. – He heard a sigh. With his webs spread all over the flat, he would feel every breath, step and heartbeat so it wasn’t a surprise when Akiyasu stopped right in front of him. What he didn’t expect was the hand on his chin raising his face.

- I never said he didn’t. Tatsu also said he had more than enough witnesses and that he was only surprised the guards didn’t break that guy’s spine. Apparently, you were faster. Stop rubbing, here…

The wet cloth rubbed on his cheek and he tried to pull away but Akiyasu held on. He really, really wanted to put a blade through the man’s trachea but he was too tired. The beast had sneaked his hand under his clothes while slobbering all over his hand, bitten down when he’d tried to get his hand off without breaking it and then punched him in the face. He’d died half a minute later, bleeding out from a neat and accurate would in the temple.

- Get out. I am not in the mood for you.

- Do the words “Déjà vu” ring a bell ? – Oh, he was so going to burn his shrine to the ground, consequences be damned. He was absolutely doing it.

- Don’t make me call my Sentinels.

- You won’t. I have news about Washijo’s clan. – He what ?

Kagemaru kept silent, enduring the rubbing that was carefully taking his make up off first from his face and then from where it had stuck to his hair.

- I went to have a chat about their bad practices and how the gods frown upon young men selling drugs to unsuspecting citizens. Only, Washijo himself told me they would never set a foot in the Capital ever again. Something about the Jorōgumo who owns the city. They even warned me against said yokai. Apparently, he is a monster enough to make even the most dangerous hunters think twice. So they are moving out.

Oh. So the venom had worked. Good. He really didn’t want to deal with the rat who ran the clan. He had standards, after all. Still.

- What were you really doing there ? – Akiyasu was quiet for a moment.

- I didn’t want them to think that going to a shrine and cleansing their blades would help with the specific yokai they had a personal issue with. People who come and pray for endless power are so annoying…I still set the city wards to activate if they don’t leave within the time period you gave them. Which means in about… - Akiyasu paused. – An hour and a half.

Wards to blanket the whole Capital ? That was…Kagemaru frowned while the other man kept cleaning his neck and shoulders from any leftover make up. That was a complicated spell. Especially since there were other shrines with powerful priests, even if one didn’t count the endless number of Ayakashi that roamed around. The sheer power and intricacy such a spell would require…

- When ?

- When ? – Akiyasu pulled a cotton yukata on his shoulders. – Last night. Took me a while with my father’s books being locked in the militia’s archives. Doesn’t matter, now all we have to do it wait. Either way, they are not coming back.

#ayakashi #ayakashi romance reborn #akiyasu kurahashi #akiyasu #akiyasu ayakashi #ayakashi kagemaru #kagemaru #fanfiction #oneshot

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bucketofchum · 7 years

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Overslept

VampTumu mulls over the Happenings(TM) of the previous night

Words: 1011

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It wasn’t often that he slept, and when he did, it was never much. But for the first night in probably years, Atumu slept dreamlessly for hours.

He was not used to setting alarms – he never needed an alarm. He was always punctual – moreso than that, he was always embarrassingly early. Fashionably early would be 15 minutes or so. Uncomfortably early would be maybe half an hour or so. Atumu almost always showed up to work hours early. He worked them unpaid – they’d never sanction giving overtime unnecessarily. But they’d also never complain about Atumu working some extra 15-20 hours a week unpaid.

This day was different, though. His coworkers stirred when the time for Atumu’s shift approached… and passed. Without his presence. He had been working at the casino for over ten years. Even before he started working there, they’d let him gamble there – unofficially, of course. He was much too young for them to legally let him do much, but as long as it was off the books, he could do just about anything. There was only one other time in the past decade when he was late…

Atumu woke up to the ambient sun glowing through the shades. It felt like a dream. Everything felt like a dream. It would have continued to feel like a dream if he hadn’t looked down to see his putrid blood stained shirt, slightly ripped by the small thorny twigs embedded in it. What the fuck… happened..

It came back is small flashes. There was the club. Oh god, he was hungry… There was the girl. Mm, she smelled so good. There was the alleyway he ducked into afterward. There were a few animal casualties… His heart sank a little. It had been 7 or 8 years now that he had been a vampire and he had still not gotten over the guilt of killing animals. He knew he only did it to survive but that did so little to shake the guilt.

But after that, what happened? There were animals, but… one of them was different? There was a deer.

Or was it a deer? He couldn’t recall the taste of the deer’s blood in his mouth, but instead… fire. Atumu jerked up suddenly. He stumbled sloppily to his kitchen, slammed open the pantry and pulled out a carton of coconut water. After ripping the carton open, he poured a small packet of salt into it and without even stirring, gulped the concoction down.

It was disgusting, as always, but it was what he needed. Not that he was hungry – an unusual feeling, actually, this lack of hunger – but he needed that to get the taste of acid out of his mouth… out of his mind… What was that?

He had never felt anything like that before. That couldn’t have been normal. He had fed on deer before – they had a certain sweetness that made them a lot more palatable than the feral cat or sewer rat. But that sweetness wasn’t what he got last night. It was… he didn’t know what it was actually. He was always in control of his body, no matter how strong the urges or no matter how weak his muscles were. He was always in control. He could handle just about any amount of pain without making much of a sound. But last night… was something different.

And then what happened afterward? There were two girls… they said they were vampires? It made sense, he supposed, that other vampires existed. He had just never met one before. They had said they’d keep an eye on him… maybe kill him…?

He shook his head. It was a lot.

Well now he knew – there were other vampires around… That made him feel at the same time comforted – being a lot less alone – but also concerned. He knew how he was coping, making sure he wouldn’t harm anyone. But how did others cope…? Perhaps they were able to feed off humans without ..accidentally draining them. Atumu couldn’t trust himself to try that again. It was much too easy to drain a man dry in just…seconds. He’d never let himself do that ever again.

His reverie was cut short with the realisation of how bright it was outside. What was the time? Didn’t he have work?!

Without thinking, he slammed the door open to rush out. The sun singed into his tan skin instantaneously. Fucking idiot, he thought to himself as he recoiled from the burn. That was dumb. He could afford to be a few extra minutes late. He needed to wash the blood off his skin, throw away the torn clothes, make himself decently presentable…come up with an excuse…

Hot water poured over his sore body. I got blackout drunk, went on a bender, and – No one would believe that. The reddish brown water that trickled down his body found its way to the drain. I went to the club and met a girl… No, they’d ask about her. He couldn’t keep up a lie. Hell, he couldn’t even lie in the first place. He scrubbed the rest of the blood stains off his skin. The scrapes and scratches stung against the hot water, but it was satisfying in a way. I just…overslept. That was the truth. As implausible as it was, that was the truth and it was the best he could come up with.

He turned off the water and dried himself off. The white towel became dotted with red from the still bleeding cuts. Mm. He’d have to put some bandages over those so they wouldn’t stain his white work shirt.

When he opened his front door for the second time that day, he was prepared. Slim black gloves protected his hands; a wide brimmed hat pulled low shielded his eyes; his voluminous hair covered his neck where the hat failed to reach. He usually left for work before the sun rose and left after it had set. It was just a lot more convenient than dealing with all this.

I just…overslept. That’s all.

#Vamp AU AU #VampTumu

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thelostcatpodcast · 5 years

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THE LOST CAT PODCAST TRANSCRIPTS: SEASON 4: THE HOLLOW CITY: EPISODE 10 pt 1

SEASON 4: THE HOLLOW CITY: EPISODE 10 pt 1

Episode released 14th December 2018

http://thelostcat.libsyn.com/season-4-the-hollow-city-episode-10-pt-1

Let us get up to date with what is going on.

We have: the great destruction of the concrete tower tumbling in to the Bottomless Lake. The Bottomless Lake collapsing into the Hollow Palace that lay below it. The crashing of waves upon the palace towers as the huge body of water swirled around, looking for a way out. The heavy gates of the palace, groaning at the pressure but holding steady yet.

And, finally, the tiny figure standing on the edge of the chasm, masked, running their finger tip from their forehead down their nose, and then leaping in.

There, I think that is everything.

Now: let us begin.

THE LOST CAT PODCAST BY A P CLARKE: SEASON 4: THE HOLLOW CITY: EPISODE 10 pt 1

Down in the city fear was starting to rise.

The Hollow People heard the booms of the explosions, they felt the great shaking of the earth. Some ran to the exits, but they were blocked by fleets of Filler vans, assembling for a final attack. So they gathered on the central concourse, all of them, for the leaders would know what to do.

But the leaders did not appear, no-one appeared at all.

“What’s happening in there?” they asked.

What was happening in there was Lisica.

She leapt from the lip of the lake, down in to the swirling waters below, past the grinding, shattering wreckage of the tower as it continued its slow collapse down in to the palace.

Inside the palace grounds was dark and loud – the high susurrations of breaking glass both close and far away, and the deep rumbles of foundational trauma. The water was twenty feet high already, drowning much of the lower floors.

Lisica swam unnoticed in the tumult, heading to the far left tower. She ducked in through a half-submerged window and found the Barnaban living quarters, filled with velvet drapes, chests overflowing with clothes and all manner of luxuries now strewn about.

In another room she could hear the bangs and hurrumphs of a huge man, bungling about in the dark, and the strained yelps of his many aides, trying to help.

She found it, a huge refrigeration unit, still humming on its own batteries because Dr Uremides took no chances. Inside were jars and jars of what the Bone Sisters took from the fallen Wholes – organs and meat. And Dr Uremides would fill Barnabus up with those organs to give him what he lacked and to fill him with a sense of hearty confidence and self-belief.

No wonder he had seemed so exhausted when they had first met: the organs had been getting old, grey. They had probably started to rot, there in the great cavity of his gut.

No wonder he had seemed so full of energy on the balcony the day before: nice fresh organs inside him then.

And here they rested, refrigerated at night to keep them fresh.

And Lisica took those organs, and replaced them with the organs that had been stolen from butchers across the city the day before: pig meat. Very fresh.

Then she heard Dr Uremides approaching with some guards on some jerry-rigged boats and rafts.

“Barnabus? Great leader?”

And there was much roaring from the other room.1

“It is I, your Dr Uremides, and the people have need of you. Time to fill you up”

Lisica left the way she came, throwing the human organs in to the water as she went. The doctor would be filling Barnabus up with her organs even as she swam away, towards the far right tower and Xavier’s living chambers.

Cold and sparse, Xavier’s chambers were, with bare, clean walls and neat shelves of books. The chambers were silent. One such as Xavier had no need of anyone else, when he had himself. There were no decorations but a huge mirror on one wall, bounded by small statues of himself on either side.

And she found him, to her surprise, peacefully asleep in his bed.

Someone such as he would rise only when he chose, and would happily ignore the concerns of others until then. Impressive, to be so self-content.

She looked him carefully over. And there were the stitches that ran right up his side, and there, if you listened very closely, underneath Xavier’s steady breathing, a second, shallower breath of the small child he had within him.

No wonder he had seemed so listless when first they met, for he had almost entirely used up the previous child, who now no doubt lay discarded somewhere secret by Dr Uremides.

But now, with the child of the organisation’s leader inside him, he was entirely in control of things.

She oh so gently put a drugged cloth over his mouth, just enough to keep him asleep while she worked.

Then expertly she unpicked the stitches and so carefully she pulled the sleeping child from his hollow body. She was about to stitch him back up but then paused, having an idea, and then, with a small smile, replaced the child with one of the small statues of Xavier from next to the mirror.

Carrying the child so gently, she left, even as she heard the boats of Dr Uremides arrive at the tower

“Oh great and wise Xavier! It is I your humble Uremides. Rise! For there is an urgent matter only you can solve!”

The drugs had worn off, and Xavier was up and looking at himself in the mirror. He did so with a somewhat confused expression

“Are you alright, oh masterful Xavier?”

“I am...not sure,” he said.

Outside the palace walls, the crowd of all the Hollow people filled the concourse.

“What do we do? What do we do?”

The Feral Children moved all through the crowd shouting, “follow us! Follow us! We know a way out!”

But the Hollow People, all dressed in yellows and greens all kept staring at the empty palace balcony saying “what do we do?” still looking for their leaders. Still looking for their leadership.

And then the signal went up, the lights turned on, and everyone cheered as the great figures of Barnabus and Xavier emerged, waving to their crowds in their shining raiments of yellows and greens. Behind them, in the shadows, Uremides looked on.

Barnabus stepped forwards, and raised his arms up to greet the crowd. The crowd cheered. He took a deep breath, ready to speak… and then roared. Deafeningly, but without control, all vowels and spit.

With a frustrated look on his face, he breathed in a massive lungful to bellow anew but all that came out was a great honking squeal.

Barnabus collapsed, slobbering to himself. He may have been trying to speak, but all that came out were whinnies and oinks. He trotted off inside on all fours.

Uremides pushed a clearly perturbed Xavier forwards.

He raised his hands towards the crowd, smiling a little tentatively.

“Good people!” he said, then paused. He turned and whispered to Uremides. “Why am I here?”

“You are Xavier. You are Xavier!”

He turned back to the Hollow People and said: “I am Xavier. I am Xavier!”

And he smiled beatifically down on all of them.

They cried, “what should we do?”

And his face was as blank a mirror. “I don’t know,” he said. “What should we do?”

And at that moment the Feral Childrens stood up on barrels and stalls and yelled “come with us! Come with us! We know a way! Everything will be fine! Come with us!”

And it happened like that, in that instant. And afterwards everything was different. The crowd turned away from the light of the leaders.

“Yes!” yelled Bowen. “Go with the children. Your soldiers will protect you!”

And that was it. No longer were they looking for guidance from the great leaders, and instead they looked to themselves.

The children led them down far tunnels, while Xavier waved weakly for them to return. He turned around to Uremides for guidance. But Uremides was long gone.

Now please do not think too little of the Hollow People here, if you felt they were fickle, or gullible or foolish. It is in their nature to trust, and their curse to be too easily tricked – they were not just blindly following. They needed safety, and they needed organisation, just as we do, from time to time. Do not think too little of them, lest we start to think of all the times we have been fooled, and we have needed some help.

The Feral Children led the Hollow People down, past the old sewers to a collapsed and forgotten exit. A little explosive on the collapsed part opened up the path, and put huge smiles on the faces of the Feral Children as they lit the fuses.

Back in the city, Bowen corralled the guards around him at the barricade as they waited for the Fillers. And from the depths of the corridor beyond they heard a hiss-whistle sound, and then one of the soldiers was whipped back, sliced almost entirely in two by a spinning, bladed disc that was now embedded in the wall behind them.

This was the Fillers’ new weapon.

And then hiss-whistles sounded out all around them.

The final attack on the Hollow City had begun.

Back in the flooded palace, Lisica swam between buildings and great chunks of falling masonry with the barely conscious Jeremy towards the balcony entrance when, all around her slim shapes flashed down from above in to the water with barely a splash.

Vampires were raining down, darting in to the water with the practiced grace of kingfishers after minnows.

Lisica pulled Jeremy out of the water on to a demolished attic, the closest remaining building to them, still many yards from the balcony.

Pale fish circled them in the depths.

Lisica was cold, and she shook with effort, but still she helped the boy along the rickety, groaning boards of the attic. Then a figure lit down upon the boards so gently they did not even sigh. Zubi landed in front of them, blocking their escape.

Cruel and imperious, the rain ran down her perfect face. “My poor dear, you seem like a drowned rat.”

Lisica said nothing, but pushed Jeremy further back in to the joists and broken woodwork, away from the Vampire.

“Your make-up runs, and we see who you are. You are but a girl left alone at the dance. Cry for me.”

They were backed up right in the corner of the ruined attic now. There was no way to get them but through the forest of joists, but also there was no way out but through the Vampires. Zubi stood on the boards, and swimming vampires patrolled in the water all around. Lisica pointed her sword out, and waited.

Outside the palace walls, Bowen, the Ghost, and the few last soldiers were being beaten back through the tunnels. Everywhere the hiss-whistle sounds echoed, and all around them lay their comrades.

“We can’t do any more,” said Bowen. “This is all the time we can give them.”

“Retreat to the central concourse,” cried The Ghost.

The Hollows ran deeper in to the city, and the hordes of Fillers ran after.

Meanwhile, inside the palace, Dr Uremides drew up to the attic in his boat. He had his hands up to the gap in his head, increasingly distressed at the frothing water around him.

“Lady Zubi, the city is lost! But with that child I can still wield power. Zubi! Get him!”

“Come on,” teased Lisica. “Do your master’s bidding.”

And the Vampire roared with frustration.

Outside, the Fillers emerged from every tributary tunnel in to the central concourse. All of them gathered in that space.

Of Bowen and The Ghost and the Hollow soldiers, there was no trace.

“Secure this area,” said the leader. “Gather everyone. This will be our base for further searches.”

“Yes sir,” came the reply.

Inside, As a great chunk of the tower fell only a dozen yards off to their right, Zubi stepped up. “I grow bored of this.”

Dr Uremides spoke in to the tangle of joists at the far end of the attic.

“We will give you a count of three, and then the good lady Zubi will order the entire building torn apart, and you with it. You still have a chance. Just give the boy up. Shall we begin? 3… ”

And nothing moved behind the tangle.

“2… ”

The Vampires started swarming in the water around them.

“1… ”

And then Lisica threw the sword out, then emerged, holding her rucksack out in her spread wide arms.

“Drop the bag too.”

And Lisica dropped the rucksack, but it fell in to the water and sunk in to the darkness near to the balcony entrance.

“Oh dear,” said Dr Uremides. “I hope it was nothing important.”

And Lisica said, “3,2,1,”.

And then, deep under the water, right up against the sturdy gates, the rucksack, exploded.

The blast from the explosion surged through the water and splintered the main gates as if they were match wood. The Fillers had just enough time to look up to see the wall of water hit them. If you hit water after falling from high enough it will feel exactly like hitting concrete. Now imagine if it hit you.

The vampires swimming in the water had no chance either. They were swept away and drowned or dashed against the walls.

The surrounding rock groaned so low it made the water fizz.

The great flood of water swept through the tunnels of The Hollow City, taking everything with it, scouring everything clean.

Lisica grabbed Jeremy and looked up as the final explosion acted as a signal for Cyraliene and the Blood Sisters to fly down in to the abyss of the palace. They picked the two humans up and then leapt up and out. They danced upon the falling masonry, using the concrete as leverage for their next leap out.

Zubi cried, “Sister Cyra! What are you doing?”

“The Blood Sisters have made their choice,” Cyraliene cried down. “Who makes yours?”

Zubi become apocalyptic in rage. The sharp and perfect lines of her face turned in to knives of rage and she screamed.

She picked up a cowering Uremides, and gathered her surviving sisters to her. And cried: “Get them!”

And the Bone Sisters all leapt up after the Bloods in to the night, as the attic, and the hall and the towers of the palace all collapsed in to the great tumult of the water beneath them.

And that was the end of The Hollow City.

But, above, the battle raged on...

THANK YOU FOR LISTENING.

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#cat #lost cat #lost cat podcast #the lost cat podcast #transcript #podcast #audiodrama #audio drama #horror #adventure #goth

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hgfstreamchats · 4 years

Text

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

highglossfinish 08:50 PM Hello!

CosmicOutlaw 08:52 PM Hello

highglossfinish 08:54 PM Hello there, pheonix human!

pheonixqueen 08:54 PM hihi!

highglossfinish 08:55 PM Is the sound working?

pheonixqueen 08:55 PM I hear a loop?

CosmicOutlaw 08:56 PM some cursed thing from reality tv

highglossfinish 08:57 PM Better?

pheonixqueen 08:57 PM yes

highglossfinish 08:57 PM Excellent!

thenightetc joined the party.

highglossfinish 08:59 PM Night human!

thenightetc 08:59 PM I'm here! Didn't realize it was this early

thenightetc 09:01 PM Dark in here, isn't it

highglossfinish 09:01 PM Just a touch.

highglossfinish 09:03 PM Is this movie really two and a half hours long?

thenightetc 09:03 PM I hear sound, but the video is still the end of the youtube thing

pheonixqueen 09:03 PM yes it is

CosmicOutlaw 09:03 PM it is a long movie

thenightetc 09:04 PM I'll reload

CosmicOutlaw 09:04 PM but there is an intermission

thenightetc joined the party.

thenightetc 09:04 PM Nope, video's still not working

CosmicOutlaw 09:05 PM I have the same problem

thenightetc 09:05 PM There we go!

CosmicOutlaw 09:05 PM there it is!

highglossfinish 09:05 PM Wondeful! Now, onto two hours of this!

thenightetc 09:05 PM Gosh, that's a lot of smoke

highglossfinish 09:06 PM Put the children up front, their little lungs will soak up the worst of it.

pheonixqueen 09:06 PM lol

thenightetc 09:07 PM Look at them go!

thenightetc 09:07 PM Must be at least 15 mph

highglossfinish 09:07 PM Look at them putter!

thenightetc 09:07 PM What were you just saying about children up front?

CosmicOutlaw 09:07 PM those things could get moving at a decent clip in a straight line

pheonixqueen 09:07 PM oh yes

highglossfinish 09:07 PM I stand by what I said.

CosmicOutlaw 09:08 PM turning, not so much

highglossfinish 09:09 PM That part's never once failed to make me laugh.

thenightetc 09:10 PM Oh, the carnage.

CosmicOutlaw 09:10 PM the car had to die so it could be reborn...and...reanimated

thenightetc 09:12 PM gasp!

highglossfinish 09:12 PM Oh, the very prim, muted outrage!

CosmicOutlaw 09:12 PM a lady driver no less

pheonixqueen 09:12 PM children in the road

highglossfinish 09:13 PM Do they live in the junkyard?

thenightetc 09:14 PM Uh oh.

highglossfinish 09:14 PM Just in time to watch daddy crash and burn!

thenightetc 09:14 PM Well, they're about to become orphans.

highglossfinish 09:15 PM I want to see that man rocket off that Unicron-forsaken cliff to his fiery death while his children watch.

CosmicOutlaw 09:15 PM strapping rockets to your back is always the sign of a brilliant and stable mind

highglossfinish 09:17 PM They picked Miss Truly's pocket while she wasn't looking.

thenightetc 09:17 PM I'm going to be disappointed if this is the movie's... romance.

pheonixqueen 09:17 PM I love grandpa

highglossfinish 09:18 PM Oh, but miss Truly has taste and class, so clearly it's her responsibility to mother this deranged man and his sewer rat children.

thenightetc 09:18 PM Sigh.

thenightetc 09:18 PM Away indeed.

CosmicOutlaw 09:19 PM that vacuum cleaner thing used to freak me out when I was a child

thenightetc 09:19 PM Maybe your children are going to get run over someday soon.

highglossfinish 09:19 PM He used to have three children, the third wasn't strong and was absorbed by the workshop.

CosmicOutlaw joined the party.

thenightetc 09:20 PM Strangle him with your scarf. It's the only way he'll learn.

thenightetc 09:20 PM Now run him over.

highglossfinish 09:21 PM Then stick the other end into one of the machines so it looks like an accident.

thenightetc 09:21 PM Ha!

thenightetc 09:21 PM Sigh.

pheonixqueen 09:21 PM this song is pretty

highglossfinish 09:22 PM Mr. Effete Highpants of Crackpot Lane has perfectly styled eyebrows.

thenightetc 09:22 PM Too bad he doesn't care enough to tell them not to play in the street!

highglossfinish 09:23 PM Or feed them.

CosmicOutlaw 09:23 PM I mean maybe there aren't a lot of cars to get run over by but...horse carts??

saa12345 joined the party.

highglossfinish 09:24 PM They're going to wander onto a farm and drown in the pig slurry.

thenightetc 09:24 PM ...Uh.

thenightetc 09:24 PM Does he just... have sausages out, unrefrigerated??

pheonixqueen 09:24 PM hopefully smoked sausage?

highglossfinish 09:24 PM I would legitimately watch two and a half hours of this man's squalid life.

saa12345 09:25 PM Hey

CosmicOutlaw 09:25 PM why is his hair so perfect

saa12345 09:25 PM i'm Brazilian

highglossfinish 09:25 PM I'll occasionally sing to this Impact as a way of making amends for all my jokes about the children dying.

thenightetc 09:26 PM I mean, there's not a plate for him

Slumpty joined the party.

highglossfinish 09:27 PM "Go to bed, it's 3 PM."

pheonixqueen 09:27 PM wasn't it just mid day?

thenightetc 09:28 PM "it's just that that's a BORING thing to fix :( "

highglossfinish 09:28 PM If it's not fun and whimsical it's not worth doing!

CosmicOutlaw 09:29 PM I mean it would take mr inventor man all of...maybe a couple days to fix but no dad must suffer

thenightetc 09:30 PM Ha.

Thebes joined the party.

thenightetc 09:30 PM God, what a name.

Thebes 09:30 PM Hello@

thenightetc 09:31 PM Hey!

Thebes 09:31 PM !

CosmicOutlaw 09:31 PM caracatus potts and truly scrumptious

CosmicOutlaw 09:32 PM names are definitely a Thing in this film

thenightetc 09:32 PM Ha!

highglossfinish 09:32 PM Truly Scrumptious sounds like a Bond girl's name.

thenightetc 09:33 PM Wait is he just

thenightetc 09:33 PM HE'S STICKING HIS FINGERS IN IT

highglossfinish 09:33 PM Don't waste your pucker indeed.

Thebes 09:34 PM I wonder how viable musical scenes are for sales

thenightetc 09:34 PM He could have just explained it a little quicker.

highglossfinish 09:34 PM Stop saying that!

CosmicOutlaw 09:34 PM a mouthful of cheer

thenightetc 09:35 PM No.

highglossfinish 09:35 PM That's what I'd like written on my grave.

CosmicOutlaw 09:36 PM I'm enjoying this song so much more as an adult

pheonixqueen 09:36 PM I remember there used to be a whistle lollipop

pheonixqueen 09:37 PM it was basically a ring pop turned. into a slide whistle

pheonixqueen 09:37 PM wow that's unsanitary

thenightetc 09:37 PM It really is :/

highglossfinish 09:37 PM Everything about this movie is utterly filthy.

thenightetc 09:38 PM Oh dear

Thebes 09:38 PM Also this was entirely needless. He had them convinced two verses in

thenightetc 09:38 PM This entire factory will need to be disinfected now

pheonixqueen 09:38 PM puppy swarm

pheonixqueen 09:38 PM oh my

thenightetc 09:38 PM And those are not good for dogs!

highglossfinish 09:39 PM Every second of this movie is clearly absolutely vital and that's why it's two and a half hours long.

thenightetc 09:39 PM It was absolutely his fault.

thenightetc 09:39 PM And the dogs were just excited, not mean

highglossfinish 09:40 PM "Daddy needs lots of money for his dangerous trash."

highglossfinish 09:41 PM "Enjoy this lullabye in lieu of dinner."

highglossfinish 09:42 PM "It's ten minutes long."

thenightetc 09:43 PM *snicker*

CosmicOutlaw 09:43 PM I will join the circus

pheonixqueen 09:44 PM sell the children?

CosmicOutlaw 09:44 PM legit moneymaking strategy

highglossfinish 09:44 PM Spend the money on more gears and things he can strap to his aft.

thenightetc 09:44 PM Oh boy.

highglossfinish 09:44 PM Here we go.

thenightetc 09:45 PM I would not get an automatic haircut from this man

thenightetc 09:45 PM And I doubt it's that hygenic

thenightetc 09:45 PM It comes back up and the top of his head's off.

highglossfinish 09:45 PM In the ensuing carnage, he'll rob one of the tills or something.

highglossfinish 09:46 PM This movie is one of the most feral things I've ever seen.

thenightetc 09:46 PM My god

thenightetc 09:46 PM hahahhaah

pheonixqueen 09:46 PM lol

highglossfinish 09:48 PM Oh Unicron.

thenightetc 09:48 PM How does he know this dance?

thenightetc 09:49 PM Is this his night job?

highglossfinish 09:49 PM Just a movie of euphemisms and this man failing his children.

pheonixqueen 09:49 PM he knows the song?

Thebes 09:49 PM Does this guy know anything worth his time on screen?

highglossfinish 09:50 PM He knows about poles and swords and mouthfuls of cheer.

thenightetc 09:50 PM Well, he can sing and dance.

Thebes 09:50 PM Fair enough.

gjnesk joined the party.

thenightetc 09:51 PM Now imagine a strip version of that act.

highglossfinish 09:51 PM *That's* his night job.

Thebes 09:51 PM I mean he was already dancing with his hard wood out, it'd only be a lateral move to strip

thenightetc 09:52 PM Is his hat missing the top? thenightetc 10:22 PM Whoops!

CosmicOutlaw joined the party.

highglossfinish 10:22 PM And sounds it!

pheonixqueen 10:24 PM eggs and bacon

thenightetc 10:26 PM So it's... just a little hut?

thenightetc 10:26 PM I thought it was an outhouse.

thenightetc 10:26 PM Love how the potted plants have stayed on the sill there, though.

highglossfinish 10:26 PM It probably is.

highglossfinish 10:26 PM THE END.

CosmicOutlaw 10:27 PM "im being abducted!" "oh no, I'll put out a silver alert"

thenightetc 10:27 PM Ha!

pheonixqueen 10:27 PM chitty suicide attempt

highglossfinish 10:28 PM It was a good try, Chitty.

CosmicOutlaw 10:28 PM almost the red cliffs of dover

anthony9371440 joined the party.

highglossfinish 10:29 PM This movie still has an hour to go.

highglossfinish 10:29 PM I'd like everybody to just...think about that.

pheonixqueen 10:29 PM insanity clearly gallops in this family

thenightetc 10:29 PM Apparently!

Thebes 10:30 PM The colonialism song

CosmicOutlaw 10:30 PM dump the spies

highglossfinish 10:31 PM Plot twist: This is all an elaborate hallucination the father is experiencing as he lies bleeding in the ditch after that man whose scalp he mangled beats him to a pulp.

pheonixqueen 10:31 PM lol

thenightetc 10:31 PM Maybe.

CosmicOutlaw 10:31 PM tbh I think this is the hallucination of the man who crashed the car in the first place

highglossfinish 10:32 PM Also good!

highglossfinish 10:32 PM If Chitty was allowed to go where it wanted to go it would be on the bottom of the sea.

CosmicOutlaw 10:32 PM let him rest

highglossfinish 10:33 PM Chitty's given up on the mercy of the world. Chitty will find a way to be its own mercy angel.

pheonixqueen 10:35 PM welcome to madness

thenightetc 10:36 PM *heavy sighing*

CosmicOutlaw 10:37 PM I dont think his translator is functioning properly

pheonixqueen 10:37 PM I like this song

highglossfinish 10:40 PM Agreed.

thenightetc 10:40 PM F

highglossfinish 10:41 PM Lot of places out here for a car to crash and finally find rest.

thenightetc 10:42 PM Child catcher. :|

CosmicOutlaw 10:43 PM where's your horse, napoleon

thenightetc 10:44 PM you came to the wrong neighborhood

thenightetc 10:45 PM Just stand there, you'll be fine

highglossfinish 10:45 PM How logical.

thenightetc 10:45 PM Sigh.

highglossfinish 10:47 PM Primus. The bad one.

Thebes joined the party.

pheonixqueen 10:49 PM poor chitty thwarted again

highglossfinish 10:49 PM Chitty: Please put an end to me.

thenightetc 10:51 PM This will end well.

thenightetc 10:53 PM Why do we even have that lever

CosmicOutlaw 10:53 PM chitty is so done with this

highglossfinish 10:54 PM Chitty was done two hours ago.

CosmicOutlaw 10:54 PM true

pheonixqueen 10:54 PM this part is so creepy

thenightetc 10:54 PM :|

CosmicOutlaw 10:54 PM nothing about this is ok

thenightetc 10:55 PM Gosh, they'd have to be really stupid to fall for this after everything else that happened--

CosmicOutlaw 10:55 PM how do they not recognize him

highglossfinish 10:55 PM Not all of this is their fault. Just look at their gene pool.

Thebes 10:56 PM This is some concentrated stupid right here

thenightetc 10:56 PM "I was gone FIVE MINUTES"

Thebes 10:57 PM WHO COULD HAVE GUESSED THAT THIS WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA

highglossfinish 10:57 PM Not a single idea presented in the entirety of this movie has been good.

highglossfinish 10:58 PM Chitty Chitty Bang Bang really isn't in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang all that much.

CosmicOutlaw 10:59 PM no, I always felt that was false advertising.

pheonixqueen 10:59 PM chitty is the deux ex machina

CosmicOutlaw 11:00 PM na I came to sing you a lullaby

highglossfinish 11:00 PM Please don't sing about it.

thenightetc 11:00 PM Sigh.

highglossfinish 11:00 PM "Uh-huh. You didn't happen to bring any food, did you?"

highglossfinish 11:01 PM "Maybe some soap, or antiseptic...no?" thenightetc 11:03 PM So this is their foreplay, huh

highglossfinish 11:03 PM It really is.

pheonixqueen 11:03 PM he is trying to kill her

Slumpty joined the party.

thenightetc 11:03 PM :o

highglossfinish 11:05 PM Which may or may not be their foreplay.

pheonixqueen 11:05 PM true

thenightetc 11:05 PM ...For a second I thought the orchestra was in their bedroom

highglossfinish 11:06 PM This has so, so little to do with Chitty.

CosmicOutlaw 11:06 PM why is coma racecar guy dreaming this

highglossfinish 11:07 PM Coma Racecar Guy loved camp.

CosmicOutlaw 11:07 PM purple hair

CosmicOutlaw 11:09 PM that is quite a dance

highglossfinish 11:09 PM Please, no more.

pheonixqueen 11:09 PM I like the doll song

Thebes 11:09 PM getting flashbacks to the Raggedy Ann and Andy movie

thenightetc 11:10 PM I mean they can clearly see this is a guy in a costume, right

CosmicOutlaw 11:10 PM of course not, how would a toy maker build a guy in a costume?

pheonixqueen 11:10 PM they are all idiots

pheonixqueen 11:11 PM toddlers brains in adult bodies

Thebes 11:11 PM The people in front of the camera or the people behind the camera

highglossfinish 11:11 PM This really does just keep going.

thenightetc 11:11 PM Heh.

pheonixqueen 11:12 PM its almost over

CosmicOutlaw 11:13 PM ah yes my go to dance move

highglossfinish 11:13 PM Hah!

highglossfinish 11:15 PM This is exactly how children that aren't mine appear to me.

CosmicOutlaw 11:15 PM same

thenightetc 11:16 PM I mean...

highglossfinish 11:17 PM "Meat! Meat!"

pheonixqueen 11:18 PM eat the rich

CosmicOutlaw 11:18 PM isn't this how game of thrones ended

highglossfinish 11:18 PM Yes.

highglossfinish 11:18 PM Chitty's plunging into the fray hoping a stray bullet will find it.

CosmicOutlaw 11:19 PM "someone burn this place down"

thenightetc 11:20 PM And now the tide really IS coming in.

highglossfinish 11:20 PM "KILL ME."

thenightetc 11:21 PM Dude

highglossfinish 11:21 PM Run, Truly. Run far.

CosmicOutlaw 11:21 PM the man does not get out enough

highglossfinish 11:22 PM "Miss Scrumptious remembered she has standards."

highglossfinish 11:23 PM Oh yes, I'm sure Truly would love to be carried over the threshold to this.

highglossfinish 11:23 PM A long, long life of this.

thenightetc 11:23 PM Ah.

CosmicOutlaw 11:23 PM oh I forgot about this

thenightetc 11:23 PM ...it's sugar, though

pheonixqueen 11:24 PM sugar is so bad for dogs

thenightetc 11:24 PM And people DID like them

thenightetc 11:24 PM But suddenly they're dog treats?

CosmicOutlaw 11:24 PM "oh I'm rich now I can go get the girl"

highglossfinish 11:24 PM "Now I've got something to make up for my thousands of flaws!"

thenightetc 11:24 PM Boooooooo

highglossfinish 11:24 PM Hiss!

pheonixqueen 11:24 PM you've known each other a week

Thebes 11:25 PM WHAT DREAM

CosmicOutlaw 11:25 PM are there just...no men

thenightetc 11:25 PM "dude you're imagining flying RIGHT NOW"

highglossfinish 11:25 PM A month later, he's wasted his fortune on magic beans.

CosmicOutlaw 11:25 PM its OG Grease

highglossfinish 11:26 PM It is!

highglossfinish 11:26 PM Chitty's trying to obtain enough height to finish this once and for all.

Thebes 11:26 PM and take this nitwits with him

pheonixqueen 11:26 PM and clean the gene pool

Thebes 11:27 PM *these

highglossfinish 11:27 PM ...I'm taking those bangs as a sign that it finally succeeded.

thenightetc 11:27 PM We can dream.

CosmicOutlaw 11:27 PM rip chitty and only chitty

highglossfinish 11:27 PM Chitty's finally free.

thenightetc 11:28 PM Well!

thenightetc 11:28 PM All that just happened... or DID it?

highglossfinish 11:28 PM That certainly was almost three hours of something!

pheonixqueen 11:28 PM I had forgotten how strange this was

highglossfinish 11:29 PM Likewise.

pheonixqueen 11:29 PM thank you for hosting!

CosmicOutlaw 11:29 PM I feel like some kind of light has been shown on my childhood

Thebes 11:29 PM That was a marvelous acid trip.

highglossfinish 11:29 PM Thank you for coming!

pheonixqueen 11:29 PM lol

CosmicOutlaw 11:29 PM thanks for hosting!

thenightetc 11:30 PM Thank YOU! And, honestly, sorry for showing up so late; I really thought we were starting at sevenish (my time)

highglossfinish 11:30 PM And thank you for helping to make this what surely had to be the darkest stream we've had in a while.

Thebes 11:30 PM DARK-EST STREAM! DARK-EST STREAM!

highglossfinish 11:30 PM No, no, that was all on me. I started early with no warning.

pheonixqueen 11:30 PM knock out, have you and impact seen the live action pippi longstocking movie?

highglossfinish 11:31 PM Is it as bad as this?

thenightetc 11:31 PM ...Live action Pippi Longstocking?

thenightetc 11:31 PM Gosh, I read those books when I was a kid...

pheonixqueen 11:31 PM roughly? they tried to put to many plots together

Thebes 11:31 PM same

pheonixqueen 11:32 PM but she has a horse and a monkey that she can talk with

thenightetc 11:32 PM well I just remembered her making cookies on the floor

highglossfinish 11:32 PM Then we'll have to stream it, no question!

pheonixqueen 11:32 PM oh and she can apparently fly by spinning quickly

CosmicOutlaw joined the party.

thenightetc 11:33 PM Yes!

pheonixqueen 11:33 PM I remember best the flinging of ice cream at people

pheonixqueen 11:33 PM just lobbing scoops

highglossfinish 11:33 PM This sounds like a disaster. I can't wait!

thenightetc 11:33 PM Going to the circus and showing everyone up!

highglossfinish 11:33 PM In the meantime, I wish you all the best of evenings!

pheonixqueen 11:34 PM paying for everything in actual gold coins

thenightetc 11:34 PM And you, too!

CosmicOutlaw 11:34 PM same to you!

Thebes 11:34 PM good night!

highglossfinish 11:34 PM Good night!

pheonixqueen 11:34 PM night everyone!

thenightetc 11:34 PM Night!

CosmicOutlaw 11:34 PM good night!

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ciathyzareposts · 5 years

Text

Prophecy of the Shadow: Light Contrast

An Ultima game would have inscriptions on all these headstones, likely in runic, likely rhyming.

Prophecy of the Shadow has helped remind me that games often have momentary value that exceeds their inherent value. I think such a statement even applies to entire genres of games. I value RPGs significantly more than, say, first-person shooters, but there are times that a first-person shooter is exactly what the doctor ordered. I value PC games more than console games–except on a winter’s evening on the sofa with the fireplace going and a drink on the end table.

In the case of Prophecy, while it’s a decent game on its own, it has much greater value as a contrast to Darklands than when considered in isolation. I don’t often deliberately engineer my “upcoming” list to create contrasts in approaches, but it’s nice when it happens. Darklands is a good game, but it’s long, and any long game eventually becomes a bit tiresome. On those days that I take a break from it, the last thing I would want is to play a second game that’s exactly like Darklands. Prophecy, fortunately, is the near opposite. This makes me feel better about the game in a way that exceeds what will ultimately be its GIMLET rating.

Where Darklands is epic, Prophecy takes a more intimate, personal approach.

The Wikipedia entry on the game quotes The New Straits Times as saying that Prophecy is “the game Richard Garriott would have produced were he an SSI employee.” (I have to hand it to that Wikipedia author for not only digging up this Malaysian newspaper article but also leading with it.) I, too, have noted what I see as the similarities to Ultima VI, or at least Times of Lore, which used a precursor to the Ultima VI engine. But I exchanged e-mails with author Jaimi McEntire, who said he was more inspired by MicroIllusions’ Faery Tale Adventure (1987). This makes sense. While the row of icons recalls the Origin games, the nature of the axonometric graphics and wilderness exploration are more reminiscent of Faery Tale, albeit with many more things to find in a much smaller space.

Another element that Prophecy shares with Faery Tale Adventure is what I would call a “deceptively open world.” That is, you can technically go anywhere (at least, after you leave the starting island), but you’re mostly wasting time if you don’t hit the locations in a specific order. For instance, even if you can get past the fireball-speweing “gazers” in the northern part of the continent this early in the game, there’s no point visiting the city of Malice until you have an object from Granite Keep that will allow you to enter the temple. Prophecy, at least, gives you more clues as to which areas it makes the most sense to visit next.

These guys give you no quarter.

Many elements of the game that seem to suffer in contrast to Ultima are clear improvements if we consider Faery Tale Adventure as the base. NPC dialogue is more meaningful, the combat more tactical. Even the equipment system, which features no armor or other wearable equipment, is more advanced.

At the end of the last session, I had been warped to the main continent from the starting island with instructions to take the prophecy to the Guild of Mages in Silverdale. My attempts to stray from this path having been thwarted, I first visited the nearby village of Glade. There, I found an NPC named Chester the Great (no relation) who teaches “acrobatics” for 500 silver pieces. Functionally, this improves your agility score. Health and magic improve from using them.

Best NPC name ever.

Another of Tethe’s mage hunters was coming out of the defunct ferry building, and I was forced to kill him. On his body was a “suspect list” that included “Gerald of Glade” and “Goren of Silverdale.”

I eventually found their houses, but while exploring I stumbled into the abandoned silver mines east of Glade. A note in a miner’s journal indicated that he mine had been attacked and overwhelmed by gnomes. I didn’t get far in the mines because I kept getting attacked by “creeping oozes,” which do unbelievably devastating damage. I was also running a full inventory again, and didn’t see anything particularly obvious to discard. As we’ll see in the next entry, it’s a blessing that I decided to retreat instead of finishing this dungeon this early.

These guys are nearly impossible.

Garen and Gerald both turned out to be mages-in-hiding who had huts in between Glade and Silverdale. They both reacted with horror to the vellum scroll containing the prophecy, and told me they would gather the Council of Mages again in Silverdale. The guild is closed until you find these two NPCs, apparently.

Garen and Gerald, who were of course trying to remain icognito, pretended to be big fans of Cam Tethe, but other NPCs didn’t hesitate to criticize. A man named Arian claimed to be the former mayor of Silverdale before Tethe abolished civil government. A few others whispered about a Resistance.

Sorry; I’m with the Oppression.

At the guild, the mages complained that they only had part of the prophecy, so as the next step, they sent me to the Great Library to obtain the whole thing. None of them knew where the Library was, but they related that Larkin had recently visited with someone named Urik of Glade. URIK became a new keyword, and one NPC told me that last summer, Urik had left the area to seek out Maia, a forest witch, and then go hunt a legendary boar along the coast.

If you return to the Guild before finishing your quest, the mages are mean.

Let’s pause to consider the nature of NPC dialogue. It’s better than most games of this era–which have no dialogue at all–and of course Faery Tale, where each NPC only had a single thing to say. Still, I’d rather than the author had pared down the selection of keywords and responses rather than allow me to ask every NPC almost every keyword in the game. Most NPCs only have substantive responses to one or two words, and a good portion (including the entire city of Jade) have no substantive responses at all. The NPCs give stock responses to most of the keywords, even when those stock responses are completely out of character for the specific NPC. For instance, when I meet a peasant in a town, it makes sense for him to say, in response to TETHE (the regent): “He’s our ruler. Nice guy, huh? His indentured servant work plan has gone over real well with us peasants.” It makes less sense when the same line is delivered by a forest nymph. And why do I have the option to ask so many NPCs about FOOD and DRINK and LODGING when they just stare at me blankly or tell me to go to the inn?

Why even offer me the keyword?

I headed for the coast, battling a new enemy called “torloks” along the way. I soon found a grave marking for Urik along with a journal that placed the Great Library in the forest south of a hunter’s lodge. Intel in Glade had suggested that the hunter’s lodge would be just south of Glade, so that narrowed down the area. I later met Maia but she had nothing new to offer.

Around this time, I stumbled into the city of Granite, where the innkeeper, in response to the keyword RUMOR, told me of a man who “came in with a pack that was bigger on the inside than it was on the outside.” Unfortunately, he “disappeared beneath the city.”

From the moment I heard of its existence, the Pack of Holding was my most important priority.

This is a classic CRPG moment. Friends, family, prophecies, the fate of the world . . . they all go out the window the moment you hear a Bag of Holding is nearby. I was soon wading through the sewers beneath Granite in search of this treasure, which I finally found next to the corpse of its previous owner. Sure enough, activating it gives you enough slots to just about quadruple your inventory space. That was a palpable relief. It’s amazing how much something like inventory mechanics can ruin your experience of a game. After I found the bag, my only complaint was how using any item causes you to un-equip your active weapon, which means you have to remember to re-equip it or you end up fighting with your fists.

With the encumbrance issue addressed, I started looking for passages in the lump of forest that I had to circle around to get to Granite in the first place. I finally found a route that led to the Great Library, but not before passing by a cave of torloks first. I explored it and kill about a dozen torloks and wolves, culminating in the torlok chieftain. After he was dead, the game invited me to take his tongue. I took it, of course, because another unwritten rule of RPGs is that if a weird or unusual item appears, it will almost certainly be needed in a quest later. That’s why I have a rotting head in my sack along with the tongue.

Winding my way through the Great Forest.

Eventually, I reached the library. The game does books well, imbuing each with a decent amount of text and lore. The “Gazer/Common Dictionary” presents gazers as an ancient race destroyed by their own pursuit of magic. Another book discusses how apprentice mages were sent to the last gazer, Bardach, who lives in a grotto on a small island southwest of the mainland.

Some of the books are quite wordy. No complaints, though.

Fighting through feral rats and more torloks, I made it to the second floor of the library, where I found the prophecy on a pedestal. “Seek ye the last of the High Gazers,” it said. I headed back to the Mages’ Guild, but they wouldn’t even let me in the door. A terse message simply said, “The council instructs you to do as the Prophecy said.” Well.

Searching the Great Library as a torlok wanders along.

The map doesn’t show an island off the southwest coast, but there’s room for one, so I headed in that direction after a failed attempt to enter Granite Keep to confront Tethe. (I apparently need a key.) The journey took me into the “Withering Lands,” where I had to slay a few desert bandits. I got distracted by a hole in a cemetery leading down to “burial crypts,” where I found the “Terrae Motus” spell (tremors) as well an earthen wand. Surprisingly, there were no enemies in the burial crypt.

Like many places in the game, the burial crypts had some evocative graphics.

There was no way to walk to the island (you can’t swim in this game), but in the southern tip of the Withering Lands, I found a pair of side-by-side conical rocks, which indicated a teleporter location. I tried Larf’s Rod there, and it seemed to take me to the southwest island. South of where I arrived I, I found another pair of rocks, and using the rod there took me to the Gazer’s Grotto.

Pairs of stones like this denote teleporter locations.

Although Bardach is supposed to be the “last gazer,” clearly he isn’t because there were hostile gazers wandering around the grotto. I don’t know how you’re supposed to defeat them without copious reloads since they immediately blast you with fireballs that deplete dozens of hit points. I had some luck killing them with a great bow that I found near the grotto entrance, but you have a limited number of arrows and I ran out after two gazers. After that, whether I lived or died was down to luck.

The game has an odd relationship with hit points and hit point regeneration. As long as you have food, you get one hit point and one magic point restored for roughly every 30 seconds. If you have no food, you suffer no ill effects except that you get no regeneration, which makes sense, but if you’re already at maximum health and magic, the game still consumes a unit of food every half-minute. This means that food (which maxes at 99) lasts no more than about 45 game minutes and is mostly wasted unless you get wounded. At first, I was angry at this paradox, but then I realized that the regeneration benefits from food are dwarfed by those from resting–which restores 5-10 hit points and magic points, and you can do every 3 minutes, anywhere in the game. In short, it makes little sense to waste money on food, and if you’re willing to wait around a while between combats, you can get your health back up to maximum with a few rest breaks and the occasional casting of “Curare.” Perhaps that’s why the game introduces so many enemies that can swipe away your maximum hit points in three blows. I’d mind more if combat or reloading took longer, but they don’t. Reloading five times to defeat one gazer is still a shorter process than regular combats in some games.

In one chamber, tablets related the history of the High Gazers, who learned to mistrust the instability of magic and turned their attention to natural laws instead. They created less intelligent servants to do the work while the High Gazers studied and researched, bur their working class eventually came under the control of a mage named Abraxus, who incited the lesser gazers to overthrow their masters. When I finally met Bardach, he said that to stop the end of the world, I would need to “restore the gold stolen by the sorcerer Abraxus” (I am compelled to note that this name sounds like a household cleaner) and he gave me directions to an ancient ruin called the Hall of Mages to do this.

Learning the history of the High Gazers.

The Hall of Mages was the site of the last battle with Abraxus. There, documents discussed a couple of measures used in times past to deal with Abraxus, including a weapon that negates magic and a spell to discover the true name of Death, and thus compel him to kill Abraxus. The weapon, called the Sword of Power, was apparently a failure. But when the mages called Death, he killed the entire council after destroying Abraxus, so that plan went a bit awry, too. Other notes mention that “all the gold in the world is gone” and that the weakest catalyst, lead, is now “the only source of magic.”

I couldn’t find a way out of the Hall of Mages without trekking all the way back through the grotto, so I used REPETERE to return to Bannerwick–the last place I cast it. From there, I made my way back to Silverdale and, predictably, found all the guild members slaughtered.

I love how a primitive medieval society still apparently has a C.S.I. unit.

The game stopped leading me by the hand at this point, but I could tell from the map that the only places I hadn’t visited were the Fell Swamp, the city of Jade, the city of Malice, and Granite Keep. In the next session, I ultimately figured it out and won the game. I was figuring that Cam Tethe must be some modern incarnation of Abraxus, and that the endgame would take place in the Keep, but it turned out to be a bit more complicated than that.

My travels this session.

This deep into the game, its most disappointing aspect is the paucity of useful spells. For most of this session, the only spell I cast was “Curare,” or the healing spell. The fireball spell, “Incindiere,” really doesn’t do enough damage relative to a melee weapon to justify it. Two others that I found–“Inlustrare” (light) and “Oculorum” (eagle eye)–both have replacements in inventory items, making it a waste of points to cast the spells.

More soon, but for now it’s time to win Darklands!

Time so far: 12 hours

P.S. I’m not satisfied with the subtitle. I wanted something that would play on “Shadow” and perhaps the “Dark” of Darklands but still emphasize the contrast between the games (and the idea of contrast in general, since I was also contrasting it with Ultima and Faery Tale Adventure). I spend a lot of time on subtitles–more than really makes sense–and it irks me when I can’t get one just right.

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/prophecy-of-the-shadow-light-contrast/

#retro games #dos games #retro #crpg #adventure #amiga #oldcomputers #8bit #16bit #blog #repost

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