#I’m not making art of sorceress hugs because I do not like them

[aurorasilverthorne]

Total Misunderstanding Part #1:

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Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!!! Esteban, Shuriki, Armando and Fiero belong to Disney.

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Note: Elizaveta, Aléjandro, Llorona and Esperanza all belong to me. If you use them in fanfiction or fanart, please remember to give me proper credit as their creator. Thank you.

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Esteban wasn't prone to sleeping late. He'd been an early riser all his life, but he'd spent the night entertaining the queen, and had indulged in one too many glasses of wine.

I should've stopped at three...

But Shuriki had been in such high spirits and invitations to her bed were rare these days. Esteban had begun to believe Shuriki was losing interest in him altogether. The previous evening had assured him she still desired his touch.

Esteban groaned. His head kept throbbing like a pulse as he tried to go back to sleep and not think about the day ahead.

Dame Elizaveta Kapeka of the Northern Islands was going to arrive later that afternoon and that was troublesome. Shuriki always viewed other women as competition. Esteban should've been worried, but all he could think about was the noise their constant bickering would make.

I'm starting to sound like Shuriki.

Shuriki was probably still in bed sleeping off her hangover. He sat up slowly so as not to irritate his already nervous stomach.

Had he even eaten anything? He couldn't remember. Esteban was debating on whether they should just forego their meetings for the day when his bedroom door flew open startling him so bad that he fell off the bed. When he opened his eyes, Armando was standing over him, his expression that of a man on the verge of panic.

"Dame Elizaveta Kapeka is here!"

Of course she is...

Esteban hauled himself up off the floor. "Where is the queen?"

"Sleeping," Armando answered sheepishly.

Esteban gave the steward a half-hearted scowl then snatched his coat off the back of a chair as he headed for the queen's personal chambers. He managed to make it halfway down the hall before pausing to retch in a gilded vase.

Apparently he'd eaten something after all. Carrots, or corn maybe? Esteban didn't really care and he wasn't going to stick around to find out.

The drapes were closed and the previous night's candles burned down to the wick when Esteban stepped into Shuriki's bedroom. He nearly tripped over a pile of clothing before pulling back the curtains on the massive canopy bed.

"Your Grace?

Shuriki groaned.

"Elizaveta Esfir Kapeka of the Northern Islands has arrived."

"Who?" Shuriki asked her voice muffled by the blanket covering her head.

Esteban could tell she was still half asleep elsewise she would have launched into a tirade.

"Elizaveta? Older lady, silver hair pulled back in a braided bun? Green eyes? Any of this ring a bell?"

Shuriki pulled down the blanket to scowl at him. "Seriously, Estéban? We've met a plethora of women that could fit that description."

The chancellor sighed. "La Monstrua de Ojos Verdes."

The Green Eyed Monster.

Shuriki had thought she was being clever when she had given Elizaveta the cruel nickname. He wasn't about tell the queen most of the palace staff called her that when she wasn't within earshot.

Shuriki scowled. "Ugh, not her."

The last time Kapeka had come to Avalor to talk trade, she and Shuriki had almost killed each other due to an argument over negotiations. Shuriki refused to say why she detested the other sorceress so much, but she and Elizaveta were always vying for dominance any time they had to interact with one another.

Shuriki wanted nothing to do with it. "Leave me here to die."

Esteban huffed. "It's customary in Avalor for the ruling monarch to greet visiting dignitaries."

Shuriki buried her head under a pillow. "I really don't care about proper decorum."

Esteban folded his arms and began to tap his foot impatiently as he tried to figure out a way to rouse her. Then it hit him like a runaway carriage. "Well, if you aren't feeling up to it..."

"-Oh, thank Maru-"

"I'm sure Doña Paloma wouldn't mind helping with the dame."

"That money hungry hussy?!" Shuriki grabbed his cravat and yanked him towards her. "Estéban, I told you to stay away from her!"

"Mamá...? Papá...?"

Esteban and Shuriki both turned to see their seven year old twins, Aléjandro and Llorona, hovering in the doorway.

"Oh, my little darlings..." Shuriki cooed.

She released Esteban and held out her arms to the pajama clad children. "Come here..."

Esteban knelt to steal a hug from the little ones before helping them up onto the bed.

"Why are you fighting? Did Papá do something wrong?" Alé asked.

"We weren't fighting, were we, Estéban?"

Esteban shook his head. He couldn't help smiling when their children were around. "No, just having a discussion, that's all."

"About what?" Alé asked.

"Oh, nothing important," Shuriki answered, giving Esteban a warning glare to drop the subject. She smiled softly at the twins. "What are you two doing out of bed so early, hmm?"

"I don't feel good," Aléjandro replied.

Shuriki frowned. "You don't? What's wrong?"

"My nose is stuffy and I keep coughing. It makes my throat hurt, Mamá."

"My poor, sweet boy..." Shuriki pressed a hand to his forehead. "You're running a fever. Estéban, cancel everything that's on my agenda for today. If Elizaveta throws a fit about rescheduling, tell her to go eat sand. And have breakfast brought up. The children need to eat, especially Alé or his illness will worsen."

Shuriki was adamant about not using vulgar language in front of the children. She would've been spewing obscenities at Elizaveta by now if not for them. "Yes, querida."

"Can we have ice cream for breakfast?" Aléjandro asked, giving her the cutest look he could muster.

Shuriki quirked an eyebrow feigning displeasure, but her facade cracked, and she gave him a smile. "Oh, alright. The cold treat will help with your sore throat, but you'll have to finish the real food first. Only then can you have the ice cream."

Aléjandro nodded and smiled. "Si, Mamá. Gracias!"

Shuriki chuckled. "You're very welcome."

What she didn't tell the child was that she'd be lacing his treat with a medicinal potion to combat his illness. Shuriki had learned early on that the best way to convince a child to take medication was to hide it in their favorite desserts and not tell them it was in there elsewise they wouldn't eat it and she'd have to force it down their throat which was something she didn't enjoy doing.

Esteban knew it was probably a bad idea to make Elizaveta wait, especially given they intended to reschedule, but his son was sick, and he felt like it had been ages since he'd enjoyed a warm meal with his lover and their children.

Esteban even made breakfast. He cooked them guava-cheese empanadas and pão de queijo with atole and avena because they'd do less damage to Alé's sore throat when he ate them. He prayed the fruit he'd put in the oatmeal would strengthen the boy's immune system and speed up his recovery. He also prepared some green tea with honey and lemon in the hopes that it would keep Shuriki safe from the illness while she was caring for their son.

Shuriki was waiting for him when he brought in the food. She'd retrieved four year old Esperanza from her crib so she too could enjoy eating with her parents and siblings.

Esteban blocked young Aléjandro's view of the ice cream bowls so that Shuriki could stir a vial of healing potion into the already half melted treat then feign resignation as she handed the child the bowl.

Aléjandro ate every bit without questioning his mother's motives. If he'd asked, Shuriki would've just fibbed and claimed she'd let him have the sweets first due to him giving her the puppy dog eyes. They couldn't risk him getting too full off the empanadas or the potion would upset his stomach.

The boy was half way through his second empanada when he began yawning and rubbing at his eyes. "Mamá...I'm tired..."

Shuriki bit her lip to suppress a triumphant smirk as she pulled him close and stroked his hair. "I know, child. Close your eyes. I'm here. No harm will come to you."

Alé tucked himself up against her side and buried his face in her shoulder. At first, she thought he'd fallen asleep, but then the boy lifted his head. "I can't sleep, Mamá. Sing for me, por favor?"

Shuriki groaned. She wasn't a fan of music or dancing due to having a problem with sensitivity to noise. She'd gone so far as to ban both from Avalor, but had allowed Esteban to keep a guitar. Shuriki had also let him teach the children how to dance. She'd even sung a lullaby or two back when they were infants in the hopes they'd fall asleep. She'd been in desperate need of rest herself, of course, elsewise Shuriki would've taken a dagger to the throat rather than be heard singing or seen dancing around even if it was for her children who were the only people she loved more than Esteban or herself.

"Why would you want that?" she asked. "My voice sounds terrible when I sing."

"But I like when you sing, Mamá."

She quirked an eyebrow. "You can't be serious."

"It helps me sleep and makes me feel better." He gave her another one of his puppy dog pouts. "Por favor, Mamá?"

Shuriki sighed. "Fine..."

The sorceress closed her eyes trying to gather her thoughts. The Northern islanders didn't have too many lullabies as music, dancing and art were all considered nonsensical frivolities. There was a song she did remember from back when she was a child. Her mother had sung it to her on the rare occasions when she was ill.

Now is the time for the wolves and thrushes, to sing to the moon from the forests and rushes.

Sleep, my love. Sleep my only dear, in the dark.

Fragile and magical shadows will suddenly start to appear, lovely and lyrical, a frightening miracle, within your ear.

Carefully raising their voices, in a chorus loud and gracefully clear,

Over and under, the multi-toned, wonder of dreams endear.

Why are they singing, calling, and braying all night long?

What are they trying so hard to convey with their haunting song?

Sometimes when somebody loves you, they say and do things you don't understand.

And there in the harsh truth lies the proof of a parent's love.

Aléjandro fell asleep midway through the song. Esteban sat and listened to Shuriki sing while she stroked their eldest child's hair.

He tended to forget just how hard her childhood had been. The Northern Islands was a dark, cold place with authoritarian laws and an intolerance for failure of any sort. It was a miracle that she'd survived what with the horrid weather and the unrealistic expectations heaped onto her by her parents, peers, and the royal family she'd once served.

Shuriki laid Alé down beside her and curled herself around him to cuddle and protect the child while he slept.

"Put Esperanza back in her crib, and make sure Llorona gets back to the nursery on your way out, would you, Estéban?"

Esteban nodded. "Si, mi amada."

"But I want to stay with you," Llorona pouted, "I don't want to go back to the nursery. There is no one there for me to play with."

"Nonsense. You've more than enough toys to play with," Shuriki said, "And the last thing I need is for you to catch whatever it is your brother has. Now run along..." Shuriki was only half listening or she would've realized it was the lack of playmates not the quantity or quality of toys upsetting her eldest daughter.

"But, Mamá-"

"I said no," Shuriki snapped.

Shuriki hadn't meant to be so harsh towards the girl, but the damage was done. Llorona recoiled at the sharpness in her tone before retreating over to Esteban who was putting Esperanza down for her midmorning nap. Shuriki wanted to tell Llorona to come back, that she was sorry for having lost her temper, but the girl had bypassed a preoccupied Esteban and already left the room before she had the chance.

Shuriki sighed. "Estéban, would you-"

"I'll check on her on my way back to my office," he promised, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. "You just focus on Esper and Alé right now and leave everything else to me."

"Thank you."

"You're muy welcome, mi corazón."

"I didn't mean to shout at her," Shuriki admitted. "I just...it's so frustrating at times..."

"I understand what you mean," he assured her. "Llorona is going to be fine."

"Are you sure?"

Esteban nodded. "She's always been a resilient child. Give her an hour or two and she'll have forgotten all about it."

[stonecoldsilly]

One More Smoke With You

read on ao3

She steps out of the portal, hopefully somewhere close to where the innkeeper had said Geralt had headed, and is met with a rather warmer welcome than she is used to.

‘Oh, thank the gods, Yennefer, you’re here.’

Bemusedly, she stares at the bard, who is now shoving straight past Geralt in his haste to greet her, and bobs a fussy little bow, fringe flopping all over the place and smiling winningly in her direction.

Geralt looks confused as well, and she turns to raise an eyebrow at him.

‘I don’t suppose I could bother you for some tobacco? It’s just that this brute,’ and he elbows Geralt in the side haughtily, ‘hasn’t let me set foot in town for weeks now and my reserves are running hellishly low.’

A surge of fellow-feeling rises in her, quite unbidden. That eternal creed of the smoker; to never let a fellow enthusiast suffer; stirs enough sympathy for her to relent under those pleading blue eyes.

‘How did you know I smoke?’ She says suspiciously, and then Jaskier flops his hand in Geralt’s direction, who looks gratifyingly guilty.

She lets him simmer, just for a minute, because she has a reputation to uphold, and then nods, a little cautiously.

Jaskier lunges for her and hugs her so quickly she hardly has time to blink, releasing her in an instant and dancing round the clearing, mood clearly jubilant.

Geralt’s mouth falls open, and he frowns, which is marvellous, and instantly bears further experimentation.

‘Not here,’ he grumbles.

‘Yes darling,’ Jaskier says, flapping a hand in his direction, ‘You don’t like the smell, pish-tosh.’  

Geralt just glares at them.

‘Come, my lady, you and I shall enjoy ourselves and let our Witcher fetch us some dinner, hmm?’

Jaskier sidles up to her, and extends the crook of his arm, which she deigns to take, and permits him to lead her a little further into the woods.

‘Blasted man,’ he says, ‘he knows how I get without a smoke, the bastard.’

‘You do seem rather more keen on my company than usual.’ She says, trying not to let her awkwardness show on her face.

It’s been a year since the djinn, and occasionally bumping into Geralt on her travels has also meant bumping into Jaskier, who has thus far treated her with polite friendliness, which seems to be his default.

‘It’ll be nice to have some civilised conversation for once!’ He says, raising his voice loud enough so that Geralt, wherever he’s skulked off to, will hear.

They settle near the riverbank on a dry looking log that she automatically spits a cushioning charm onto, and he blinks up at her gratefully.

Jaskier claps his fussy hands together with glee when she produces her tobacco pouch, and the honest delight on his face is enough for her to lose her head entirely.

‘Keep it.’ She says brusquely, and he presses a swift kiss to her cheek and ducks his head shyly.

‘Yennefer, you are a marvel. Thank you so much, truly.’

‘I can get more.’ She says dismissively, and then gets distracted by watching him roll a neat cigarette, motions practiced so much to be automatic, a flash of his pink little tongue visible as he licks the paper.

He pats his pockets for a flint, and she rolls her eyes and clicks her fingers, a trifle showily, letting a little spark of flame dance over her rings and settle into place by her index finger.

She leans over to light it for him, and he holds still, catching her gaze for a long moment.

The first puff of smoke is accompanied by a deeply relieved sigh, and she can see all his limbs loosening with relaxation.

‘Honestly Yennefer, you are the finest sorceress of my acquaintance. I knew I could rely on you.’

‘Flatterer.’ She says drily, and then occupies herself rolling her own.

Jaskier drapes himself over the log, and watches her, eyes dancing fondly over her face, twirling his cigarette round and tapping the ash insouciantly.

It’s been a long few days, and she had portalled here to get the kind of stress-relief that only comes from a vigorous fuck with a man the size of a bear, but this is pleasant enough in its own way, and she has time to spare for it.

He waits patiently until she has lit her own, and then smiles wickedly.

‘Now, please fill me in on all the gossip. We’ve been chasing this goddamned bruxa for two months, I haven’t been anywhere near decent places in what feels like centuries, and I’m so out of the loop its bloody criminal.’

He leans closer, as though they are intimate friends, not just acquaintances who vaguely tolerate each other’s presence.

Yennefer takes a long drag of her cigarette, and allows herself to humour him.

‘You know the whole saga about the De Winters, over in Temeria?’

‘Last I heard she’d left him for the warmer climes of the Duchy over in Toussaint?’

‘Hah, you really are behind the times. It turns out the Duke everyone thought she was slavering over had a sister, and she was the one behind the first poisoning.’

Jaskier’s gobsmacked expression is awfully amusing, and she settles in to regale him with the best news, enjoying his rapt attention as the light fades through the trees.

…

Another banquet, and though after all these years she wishes she could say they all blurred together, she was trained in the art of politics, and so she knows exactly where she is and who she’s with each time.

She excuses herself politely as she can be bothered to, and makes her way over to the balcony for a well-earned smoke.

As soon as the door creaks open she gets surprised by an armful of tipsy bard, Jaskier immediately kissing her cheeks in greeting and smiling up at her, so obviously pleased with her appearance that she quite forgets to be cross at his over-familiarity.

‘Yennefer darling, I thought it was you. How the devil are you?’

‘Terribly bored.’ She says, honesty wrung out by Jaskier’s fond expression.

‘Come, let me entertain you for a bit. You can tell me all about your latest exploits, and I shall make appropriately awestruck noises at the correct times. Then I can bitch about Geralt, and you can make appropriately sympathetic ones.’

A smile cracks its way through, and they huddle up on a bench together in the gardens, sharing her warming spell and swapping stories.

He leaves her side only for a moment, to fetch her more wine, and the affection she feels for the glimpse of his handsomely trimmed doublet weaving through the crowd is entirely unbidden.

He makes for a very good audience, and an even better story-teller, gesturing extravagantly and waving his hands all over the place, sending her into outright giggles at some of his tales.

They spend most of the night outside together, cackling and drinking increasingly large glasses of wine, the sweet spirals of smoke from their cigarettes rising to dance amongst the stars.

…

They meet at another banquet, and then a ball, and then they start arranging to meet and synchronising their schedules.

Jaskier performs, and Yennefer shows her face and gets the gossip, or some interesting new commissions, or a further thread for her research, and then they find an isolated spot and catch up, skewering the passing nobles and judging their fashion sense together, or fuckability, or ranking them on how many rumours of mistreatment of their people they’ve each heard.

Winter passes swiftly that year, a blur of laughter and blatant wine-thievery that Jaskier always insists on performing himself, even though he’s the least subtle man she’s ever met.

Spring arrives, and she finds herself rather irritated that Geralt’s unpredictable travels will make it harder for them to meet, but Jaskier just tells her to portal straight to him whenever she pleases, as long as she brings the wine, as he can’t promise its abundance on the road.

She sends him off with a little drab locket, quite the most ugly necklace she’s ever seen, and has to stifle her grin at his appalled expression when he sees it.

‘I put a trace on it. I can travel straight to you, as long as you wear it.’

‘That’s quite the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard, but damn and blast it, did it really have to be this hideous?’

She nods solemnly, and he falls over himself to apologise, before he realises she is trying valiantly not to laugh and ends up bellowing the chorus of ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ in revenge before she gives up and sends him flying into the nearest snowbank.

…

A month later, she gives in and portals to Kaedwen, and he nearly bowls her over with joy when she enters the clearing, picking her up dramatically and spinning her round as though it’s been years since they parted, not weeks.

‘Darling Yennefer, you’re finally here, praise the gods, I thought I’d die from missing you. My star amongst sorceresses, most wonderful of witches… please tell me you have wine.’

He beams up at her, and she surprises herself by kissing her cheeks in greeting, and then winks at him.

‘I can do better than wine, little poet.’

She waggles her fingers, and then pulls out three bottles of Est Est for them to share that he crows over most gratifyingly, and then reveals the grand prize, a whole box of Toussaintois cigars. His eyes widen, and he starts stammering sonnets about raven beauty and violet eyes, at which point she has to give him a whack on the ear or he will be stuck like that all evening.

He shakes himself out of it and marvels over the box, and then calls out to Geralt, who is watching them with the most hysterically confused face.

Jaskier notices her delight at puzzling Geralt, and promptly pulls her over to a nearby log and sits her on his knee, making hilariously protective growls when Geralt tries to approach.

‘No, she brought me presents. She’s mine now.’ Geralt stops in his tracks and puts his hands on his hips, glaring down at the poet grumpily.

‘Do you have any need of a bard, Yennefer dearest?’ Jaskier says coyly.

‘I’m sure one can be arranged.’ She says, trying and failing to hide her amusement.

‘Terribly sorry Geralt, but it appears I shall be leaving you for fairer pastures.’ Jaskier says, leaning around her to stick his tongue out at Geralt, who just sighs.

‘He’s very expensive,’ Geralt says drily. ‘And he snores.’

Jaskier’s outraged squawking is enough to tip her over into outright laughter, and she settles herself more comfortably in his lap to watch the show.

‘You can’t just go around telling people that Geralt! As sworn companions there is a goddamned code!’

Geralt grins at them. ‘There’s plenty of other things I could tell her. That time in Novigrad, for example?’

‘You’ll shut up right now, Geralt, if you know what’s good for you!’

‘Will I?’ Geralt says, stepping closer.

‘Yes, I have a heavily armed sorceress sitting on my knee, and she’s on my side!’  

He grabs her hands and holds them out threateningly at Geralt, who just raises an eyebrow.

‘Yennefer, roast him.’ He says imperiously, the little brat.

Yennefer tries to stop laughing long enough to cast a spell, and then Jaskier tickles her ribs, so the ball of fire she’d aimed over Geralt’s head ends up sending him ducking for cover, which just sets them to cackling even harder.

Geralt frowns up at them from where he’s sprawled out on the ground, but his expression swiftly slides into outright fondness.

‘It’s good to see you, Yen.’ He says, and Jaskier nods firmly in agreement.  

She looks at them both, the poet cuddling her closer, and the Witcher sitting crumpled on the forest floor and smiling at them both.

‘It’s good to see you too.’ She manages.

And it is, it really is.

…

[inevitable-anna]

ETN S2 fanfic.

This is for @hessonite-angel-art and the awesome drawing they did for Rosanna in S2. I would like to say that I’m so so so so so so sorry that it took me so long to reply! I spent an 1 hour and a half writing a fic about this, and then when I went to post it, my stupid internet started messing about and I wasn’t able to save this! And then I had problems posting it.

I’m gonna try again with this fic, here we go. (Warning contains a mention of stab wounds, blood, and a slit throat)

[[MORE]]

*

Everyone felt like they were going to collapse once they got back into the Lounge. They had just ran away from The Sorceress... again. As they entered and blocked the door behind them, they all dramatically collapsed onto various pieces of furniture.

Although there was one question on everyone’s mind, which was asked by Joey.

“Why do you have a knife? And where the hell did you get a knife from, Ro?” He exclaimed in slight fear of The Baker, he was the reason Liza went into the challenge after all.

“Like I said, ‘Liza and I will not be dying tonight’ and I swiped it from the Gingerbread Woman’s kitchen, the first time we were there.” Ro answered.

“Did you steal anymore weapons from anywhere? And are you willing to share with me?” Gabbie asked in a comedic tone.

Ro didn’t answer this time, instead she started to fiddle with the skirt of her dress. After a minute, she began to remove several small knives, a few metal quill pens, 3 letter openers, and 2 syringes with a large needles on the ends?

“Damn! I didn’t actually expect you to have anything else in there!” Gabbie exclaimed in shock.

“Where did you even get this stuff?” Liza asked, while fiddling with a letter opener.

“I’ve been swiping anything remotely sharp, or anything that can be used as a weapon all night, in case, we get into more trouble.” She replied.

“Seriously? Are you sure you didn’t just bring this stuff from your house? Because I haven’t seen any of this stuff at all.” Questioned Alex, from his place laying diagonally across one of the sofas, with one leg dangling over the back and one arm splayed out across the floor.

“Yeah, I got the knives from the Gingerbread Woman’s Kitchen. The letter openers and some of the metal quills from the Study, where Jorogumo webbed you up after she kidnapped you. And I found the syringes in the Foyer, while we all thought that the ‘helm of obedience’ was going to make Joey shoot us. I think someone must of dropped them.” Ro listed.

“And I meant what I said Liza and I will not be dying tonight. In fact, none of us are going to die tonight.” Ro stated, whilst holding up one of the knives from the table.

Judging by some of the looks the guests gave her as she help up the blade, Ro guessed that she had just gained lots of allies, and cemented herself as a team player. As well as, scaring the hell out of everyone in the room, including Alison.

*

No one else died that night...

That is, nobody else died, from among the guests ranks... Some of The Sorceress’ lieutenants were not so lucky.

The Ice Guardian very quickly found itself on the wrong end of a blade after it attempted to corner Tana.

It turns out that The Promethian Men weren’t so strong, once they were littered with stab wounds. Cedric was very happy to give the guests his gem... after they promised to let him live.

The werewolves may have been a pack, but even they weren’t a match for 7 angry youtubers, armed to the teeth with make shift weapons, picked up on their way across the various rooms of the Mansion.

The Guardian Of The Dark Dimension did not expect to become the sacrifice that was required to open a portal back to the Mansion, but he could only watch as the guests ran through and his vision began to go black.

*

The Sorceress was outraged, all her meticulously crafted plans were turning to ash before her eyes, all because ‘The Baker’ had chosen to fight back against her lieutenants and save her friends.

‘Just wait until I get my hands on her!’ She thought, while slowly clawing her way up the stairs. ‘I’ll make her wish that she was never born!’

It wasn’t long before The Sorceress’ arms gave out from under her, having no energy left in them. Lying on the stairs was uncomfortable but she just couldn’t move yet. Though she could hear voices approaching, one of which she recognised as ‘the Savant’.

‘Well, if I have to go down, I’ll take one of them with me!’ She thought bitterly, waiting for her time to strike.

“There’s the crown! Damn it! it’s by The Sorceress.” The Vaudevillian yelled in frustration. “Who is gonna get it?”

There was a sudden rush of noise. Each guest was trying to decide who should risk themselves for her crown.

“I’ll do it.” Said a quiet voice, that The Sorceress recognised immediately. ‘The Savant, perfect’ she thought.

There was a chorus of voices saying ‘be careful, Joey’ and she heard his footsteps walking up the stairs and waited for him to get closer.

The noise of the crown being picked up was her signal. With a scream The Sorceress jumped up whilst pulling her knife out of its holster and got ready to stab anyone within arms reach.

Frantic shouts filled the air, overlapping each other, as the guests reacted to her sudden attack.

“Oh my go-“. “What the he-“. “She has a kn-“.

“Joey! Loo-“. “How is she still al-“. “I thought she was de-“

The good news for the guests was that Joey was able to manoeuvre himself out of the daggers path, which was heading towards his chest.

The bad news for the guests was that the dagger was now stuck in his arm instead.

The Sorceress tackled Joey to the floor and pulled her dagger from his arm, raised it above her head to bring it down in a fatal blow to Joey’s heart and...

She felt a hand wrestle the dagger from her clenched fist, while another hand anchored it’s fingers into her hair and sharply yanked her head backwards, before the feeling of cold metal dragged itself across her throat. She had just enough time to turn and see who had slit her throat, before the world went dark.

The Baker.

*

The guests were in shock.

In the span of about a minute or maybe even a minute and a half, Joey had been stabbed in the arm, The Sorceress had proceeded to tackle Joey, attempted to stab him, only for Rosanna to snatch the blade and use it to kill The Sorceress herself, and now Ro was standing with the bloody dagger in hand weeping that she “didn’t mean to kill her.”

Liza quickly walked to Ro to comfort her, while the rest of the group helped Joey sort out his wound.

“It’s okay. Ro, you saved everyone’s lives by doing that. I know that doesn’t make it any better but everyone in this room is alive because of what you just did. Who knows maybe if you hadn’t done it, The Sorceress would be back in a years time with 10 more people to chase around and use for her spell. You saved our lives.” She reassured while pulling the small woman in for a hug.

“Thanks Liza. At least she can’t hurt anyone anymore.” Ro mumbled into her shoulder.

By now the group had finished tying a piece of fabric, that Alex had ripped off of the bottom of The Sorceress’ skirts, around Joey’s stab wound to act as a bandage and stem the flow of blood.

Everyone walked over and joined in on the hug to comfort The Baker, whilst offering her words of thanks and reassurance. After a few minutes in the large group hug The Savant spoke “Shall we get out of here and back home?” There was a chorus of ‘yes’ from around the room.

Joey walked to the front doors that most of the guests had walked through only a few hours ago, when they believed that they were attending a ball and not a dangerous quest against an evil Sorceress, who was hell bent on invading the modern world and ruling over it.

The guests smiled as soon as they saw the sunlight beginning to creep up over the horizon. Ro looked around and walked to the spot where Alison was standing.

“Are you going to come with us?” She asked.

“I’m sorry but no, I’m going to stay and help Riley, Jetpack, and the people still here figure out what to do and where to go. As I said ‘there are other people who want to leave, I’m doing this for them.’ But maybe I’ll come visit you all in the future.” The vampire replied with a small smile.

“Well you’re always welcome to come and visit me any time you like.” Ro said returning the smile, before she walked back to Liza.

“Are we all ready to go?” Alex asked, wanting to leave before anymore tears could start to fall at the thought of leaving the Mansion without Lauren by his side. Everyone said their goodbyes to Alison and welcomed her to come visit them as well. Just like that they were ready to leave this house of nightmares and return to their homes for a well earned rest.

Ro said a quiet goodbye to Lauren, Jesse, and Destorm, promising to never forget them and telling them that she hopes that they are at peace. Linking arms with Liza, they walked to the front doors at the back of the group and sighed at the feeling of the sun on their faces.

Alex, Tyler, and Tana climbed into the first carriage, while Joey, Gabbie, Ro, and Liza sat together in the second. The carriages started to move, beginning the journey home and that’s when it hit Ro...

They had escaped the night.

*

This is my first time writing an ETN fanfic and it ended up so much longer than I expected it too. Again, I’m so so sorry that it took me so long to reply to you, but I hoped you liked this story. (I apologise for any incorrect grammar or an abuse of commas.)

Have a nice day :D

[master-sass-blast]

Whole list for Illyana and Mikhail, pls!!!!

Absolutely!

What is their favourite food: Illyana likes chocolate, and Mikhail likes vodka pirogis.

Do they have a fear of an animal? If so, what animal: Not really. They’re both p fearless in that regards.

What do they wear to bed: Illyana has an entire collection of goth colored pajamas, and Mikhail opts to wear as little as possible lol.

Do they like cuddling: Illyana doesn’t, Mikhail does.

Do they have a secret handshake with anyone: Mikhail makes secret handshakes with each of his niblings.

What do they look like: Pretty much like they do in the comics, except Mikhail doesn’t have the scaring and his hair is wavier, and I like to draw Illyana with a longer/thinner face.

Do they like chocolate: Sure.

What are their good and bad traits: Mikhail is extremely creative and expressive, but he also occasionally just... expresses all over people, if that makes sense. Illyana is cunning and clever, but definitely runs the end of being too ruthless at times.

Do they have any artistic talent: Yes! Mikhail plays guitar, Illyana plays violin, and Mikhail is actually quite gifted with theater and crafting.

What is their favourite room to be in, in the house they live in: The two of them move around a bit, since they can teleport and take jobs almost wherever, provided they speak the language. Illyana prefers anywhere quiet (usually her room), and Mikhail generally likes being in the middle of everything.

Do they believe in luck: Sure, but they’re both ambivalent about it.

Can they do magic: Illyana can do “magic” magic, and Mikhail can do sleight of hand magic.

Do they believe in dragons: Considering Lexie has made several exist, they kind of have to.

What is a pet peeve of theirs: Neither of them like being controlled.

What was the last thing they cried about: Mikhail tends to angry/frustrated cry, but he does it in private. Illyana cries when Nikolai and Alexandra pass away.

What is their sexuality: Mikhail is bisexual and Illyana is asexual.

Do they have a best friend? If so, who, and what makes them their best friend: Illyana is friends/eventual partners with Kitty and Lorna, who accept her for her full Slytherin self, blunt edges and all. Mikhail winds up striking quite the (platonic only) camaraderie with Neena, since they both have similar outlooks on life.

Have they ever been in a romantic relationship: Yep!

What does their relationship with their family look like? Are they close? Distant? Ect: Mikhail kinda runs the end of being a little estranged, due to some of his “less than legal” pastimes and sensitivity. He’s closest with Nikolai, then Illyana, then Alexandra, then Piotr. As he gets older, gets treatment for his bipolar disorder and the support he needs, and becomes more confident in himself, he’s able to repair those relationships. Illyana... is as close as she wants to be with her family.

Do they have a pet: Illyana, Kitty, and Lorna foster cats together.

Do they have a familiar: Still don’t know what that is, so no.

Are they a supernatural being: You could make the argument that Illyana, as the Sorceress Supreme of Limbo and wielder of the Soul Sword, has some supernatural aspects to her. The supernatural thing about Mikhail, though, is his morning breath. #stank

How do they usually wear their hair: Illyana wears hers down most of the time, and Mikhail usually wears his in a man bun.

Can they play an instrument? If so, what instrument and what can they play: Illyana plays the violin and Mikhail plays the guitar, and they play a lot of rock music/covers together.

What type a high schooler are/were they: Illyana was the art student who managed to get good grades, and Mikhail was the kid that lived in detention.

Have they ever been in a physical fight before? If so, with who? Who won: Yep. They’ve had several, wins and losses, whole nine yards.

What is their favourite holiday: Illyana likes, believe it or not, Valentine’s Day. Mikhail like Halloween.

If they could have one wish, what would they wish for: Look, wishes weird me out, so I’m just skipping this one.

Do they wants kids? If they already have kids, do they want more: Neither of them want kids.

Do they have a job: Illyana winds up working as a professional violinist and a music teacher for the Institute, and Mikhail does whatever he feels like, but mostly various “not legal” jobs.

Do they know how to drive: Mikhail does, Illyana doesn’t.

Do they get stressed out easily: Mikhail does, Illyana doesn’t.

Did they ever dye their hair before? If so, to what colour? Did they like it: Mikhail dyed his hair orange on a bet, then shaved it off the next day as a teen. Illyana likes her hair the way it is.

Have they ever broken the law: Yes. Illyana just didn’t get caught and is smart enough to not brag about it.

Do they own a plant: Nope.

Have they ever rode a horse before: Yes.

What is their favorite gif: Pass.

Do they get along with others easily: They both do. For all that Illyana may look unapproachable with her goth/dark aesthetic, she’s a good listener and relatively companionable.

Do they have any tattoos: Yes.

If I wanted to draw them, what would be distinct physical features that I would have to know to draw them correctly: Eh, already mentioned that above.

What is their favourite breed of dog: Mikhail likes Newfoundlands, and Illyana likes cats.

Do they live with anyone? If so, who: Mikhail bounces around from staying with Nikolai and Alexandra, to staying with the Reader and Piotr when they need an extra hand with kids, to hanging out with Wade and Nate, to chilling on his own, to rooming with Neena... he’s a free spirit, to say the least. Illyana winds up sharing a small house with Kitty and Lorna.

Where is their dream vacation: Mikhail’s idea of a dream vacation is throwing a dart at a map and making the most of an experience. Illyana’s idea of a dream vacation is not having to deal with either of her brothers.

Do they know more than one language: Yes. Mikhail is conversational in several languages due to his travels, and speaks Russian fluently (obvs). Illyana picks up English as she gets older, and also speaks Russian.

Are they a quick learner: Depends on what the subject is, but they both do alright.

Have they ever won a contest before? If so, what for? What did they win: They’ve won a few music contests with their duets. Most of it was various cash prizes.

If the world were to end in 24 hours, where would they be and who would they be with: They’d be with their family and friends.

What does their room look like: Mikhail’s is an explosion of all his belongings, and Illyana’s almost pathologically neat.

If they could have an extinct animal for a pet, what would they have: Mikhail would resurrect a T-Rex if he was able, and Illyana would skip the whole deal because she knows better than to get into resurrection magic.

If they got called out by someone, what would they do: Mikhail usually explodes, and Illyana either listens silently or straight up walks away while they’re talking.

Have they ever shot a gun before: Yes.

Have they ever been axe throwing: Mikhail has.

What is something that they want but can’t have: Mikhail wants a T-Rex. Illyana, admittedly would like to be able to go places without hearing people’s thoughts.

Do they know how to fish: Yes.

What is something they always wanted to do but too scared: Mikhail is afraid of commitment, so interpret that however you will. Illyana... doesn’t necessarily know fear as we do lsdkfjklsjflskdf jk jk it’s probably something like skydiving.

Do they own their own baby pictures: No.

What makes them standout among others: Their aesthetics. They both dress in a lot of black.

Do they like to show off: Mikhail does, Illyana doesn’t care one way or the other.

What is their favourite song: They both like “Ride the Lightning” by Metallica.

What would be their dream vehicle: Pass.

What is their favourite book: Mikhail likes “Much Ado About Nothing,” and Illyana likes “Pride and Prejudice.”

Who, in their opinion, makes the best food: Nikolai.

Are they approachable: If you’re willing to get past the mostly black clothes, yeah.

Did they ever change their appearance: Sure. They both like to experiment (though Illyana does stick within her goth bubble once she finds it).

What makes them smile: Family, funny movies, their niblings.

Do they like glowsticks: Sure.

What is something that is simple, but always makes them smile: For Mikhail, getting a hug from one (or both) of his parents. For Illyana, talking (or listening to) Kittty and/or Lorna.

Are they a day or night person: Night people.

Are they allergic to anything: Nope. Though Mikhail likes to joke Illyana’s allergic to silver, the sun, garlic...

What do you, the creator of this OC, like most about them: Okay, I didn’t technically create them, but Marvel basically left them blank and I moved in oops. I do like Mikhail’s passion for life and doing things, and I like Illyana’s easy-going (mostly) temperament.

Who is their ride or die: Each other and Piotr (and later, for Illyana, Kitty and Lorna).

Do they currently have a significant other? If not, are they going to get one later one: Mikhail kinda dates around without settling down, and Illyana winds up in a poly relationship with Kitty Pryde and Lorna Dane.

What attracts them to another person: For Mikhail, creativity, emotional openness, and a nice smile. For Illyana, resiliency of spirit, individuality, and willingness to try things.

Who is one person that can always make them laugh: For Mikhail, his niblings. For Illyana, Kitty or Lorna.

Have they ever partied too hard and their friends had to take them home: Mikhail definitely has, and Illyana doesn’t like parties.

Who would be their cuddle buddy: Mikhail is an open opportunity cuddler, and Illyana only cuddles with Kitty and Lorna.

Who would cheer them up after a long day: Seeing the people they love most.

If they had a nightmare, who would they run to: They talk to each other, actually. Illyana helps Mikhail sort through some of his nightmares triggered by his bipolar disorder, and Mikhail acts as Illyana’s confidant for her nightmares (which usually relate to her magical abilities or random thoughts she picks up from other people).

What object to the care for the most: Mikhail cares about his leather jacket and his guitar, and Illyana cares about her violin.

Do they like other people’s children: Yes.

How would they react if someone broke into their home: Mikhail would shoot the intruder, and Illyana would teleport them to another plane of reality.

Does anyone make them have butterflies in their stomach: Mikhail gets butterflies from anyone he’s interested in, and Illyana gets them only from Kitty and Lorna.

What is something that they are good at: Aside from their innate talents, Mikhail is good at carving wood and Illyana is good at random trivia accumulation.

What is their neutral expression: Mikhail is plain ol’ neutral, and Illyana is either resting nice face or resting bitch face, no in between.

Do they like to cook: They both do.

What is something they can’t leave home without: Illyana doesn’t leave without her keys/phone/etc, and Mikhail usually wears his leather jacket everywhere.

Who is someone that they rely on: Each other. They’re each other’s confidants for the deepest, darkest shit in their heads.

Do they liked to be tickled: Mikhail’s fine with it, Illyana does not.

Have they ever been a sword fight before: Yes.

What is a joke that they would find funny: Illyana likes only really stupid knock knock jokes and the darkest humor to ever exist, and Mikhail... is about the same, but with sex jokes thrown in.

Do they have a place that can go and turn off their brain: Mikhail plays his guitar, and Illyana plays her violin or meditates.

What was their childhood like: Pretty happy. Nikolai and Alexandra did a good job with them.

What are they like as an adult: Mikhail gains equilibrium when his bipolar disorder is treated, but is still very free-spirited and emotional. Illyana is more practical and aloof.

Do they take criticism well: Mikhail does not, and Illyana is selective about who she takes criticism from.

Have they ever jumped out of a plane: Mikhail has, Illyana hasn’t.

Who do they like to make jokes with: Each other. They both get each other’s sense of humor.

Have you ever drawn them before? If you are comfortable with it, would you post a picture: Not yet, but I probably will in the future.

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 19: Hunters and Haunts

It’s time for some proper horror movie monsters, y’all.

Before leaving Mornheim, we ask Aubrey about the scroll in her mother’s writing.  She’s baffled. “I mean, plenty of my ancestors dabbled in magic. The castle had plenty of secret rooms. But…my mom? As far as I knew, she was just a very talented gardener. That’s how my parents met! She was the castle gardener, he was the son of the lord, but she looked past that…”

She laughs nervously. “My mom wasn’t a druid. They don’t live in big fancy houses! They live in the woods and make friends with badgers! I mean, why would there even BE a druid in Mornheim?!”

“That’s a good question,” Gral admits. “Maybe to guard the old tomb in the Trollstones? If I understand correctly, it was a place blessed by one of the woods spirits they revere.”

“So you’re tellin’ me that MY MOM, Rosalind von Mornheim, was the secret mystical druidic guardian of a magic tomb that’s been on family property for, well, longer than it’s been our property?!”

“I mean, maybe? Skelbjor told us there always had to be a troll in Mornheim, maybe it’s like that?”

“I guess? Skelbjor’s been the local troll since Dad was a kid. He knew about all this?”

“Oh, nah, he just knew there’s always supposed to be a troll.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right, he’s a big galoot. Just tell me I don’t have to worry about this immortal troll demigod getting up and causing trouble. I have enough problems.”

“Don’t worry, he didn’t even get up for a direct summons from that dybbuk creep.”

Aubrey shudders. “If you ever wanna figure out a way to kill that guy for good, you have my help.”

Clem grimaces. “Believe me, I’d LOVE to.”

“Anyway. You folks cleaned up the water, stopped my people getting so sick, heck, maybe this’ll even slow down the undead situation. I owe you a lot of thanks. As the ruling lady of Mornheim, I can offer you…a bottle of hard cider or somethin’? I don’t have a lot. It takes all the money we have just to keep this place running. I’m sorry I can’t do more to reward you.”

Valeria smiles, the picture of a chivalrous knight. “I’m just glad to know there won’t be so much sickness. Hopefully things will improve for your people.”

“Thank you, I mean it. And, uh, sorry for glassing you in the face, Shoshana.”

The sorceress shrugs. “It’s water under the trollbridge. We all have family members who we would both hug and cry, and glass in the face. It’s chill.”

To everyone’s surprise, Valeria nods in commiseration.

“You’re welcome to stay if you want – I mean, things are crowded, the food sucks, and every night we get undead and penitents waking everybody up, so I understand if you don’t want to stick around. Can I treat you to breakfast?”  

We get breakfast, though the offerings are meager. Mercedes is cooking, and Aubrey scowls at her. “I’m mad at Mercedes because she’s a morning person. Also she lit me on fire yesterday.”

Shoshana nods. “Okay, I understand lighting people on fire, but being a morning person is a capital offense. I know this, because I live with THIS ONE.” She points at Valeria, who shrugs in acknowledgment.

“As ruling lady of house of Mornheim, I hereby banish 8am from my lands,” Aubrey grumbles. “My house is now renamed Midafternoonsheim. Like, 2pmheim. Especially if I spent the last day and a half chasing some regenerating superghoul through the tunnels.”

Mercedes and Aubrey tell us about taking out the superghoul they fought last night, bickering the whole time. “Okay, you don’t speak Goblin, but if I shout words in Goblin it only ever means one thing. I don’t cast buff spells. It means there is about to be fire, get out of the way.”

“If you ever find a cloak of fire resistance, I could use it,” Aubrey deadpans at us. “I might smother her with it.”

Gral chats with Mercedes – apparently she’s a skilled chef as well as a mage! “Yes, it is part of pyromancer training. To learn to respect the gifts of Brother-in-Flame, all students must take up a fire-related trade. Pottery, blacksmithing, cooking. That way if you wash out of pyromancer school, you have a trade! And you have respect for flame and know how to commune with it. Working with non-magical fire gives a natural guidance toward using Brother-in-Flame’s gifts. I will say, cooking contests at pyromancer school can get rather intense. If you burn the food, you have to burn your jacket.”

“Would you say they get…heated?” Shoshana quips, shooting finger-guns. Mercedes ignores her.

Gral considers. “Did you ever meet an orc who went by Firesong?”

“Oh yeah! Orc bard, wore a mask?”

“Uh, all orc bards wear masks.”

“Yeah, she’s why we can’t have the chili cookoffs anymore. She had to leave the Republics under, uh…circumstances.”

“She told me she has fond memories of her time there.”

“Oh, so do I! Passions were already high, and a professional orcish bard providing background music did not lower the emotional intensity. And, well, we’re pyromancers. We thought we were far enough from the swamp gas wells! If it hadn’t been for that damn bird – oh, one second.” She cuts off what was promising to be an excellent story to open the window and hand a sizable plate of eggs outside to Skulbjor.

“The first time I saw him, I jumped out of my skin,” she confides. “Have you ever met a swamp troll? They’re the reason we’re so good at fire.”

“The pyromancer school was originally founded to defend the Republics against trolls. So it was, you know, a liiiiittle bit awkward. Horrible creatures, swamp trolls. YOU’RE GREAT, SKULBJOR,” she calls out the window. “But I did almost light him on fire, until Aubrey stopped me.”

Gral murmurs an aside to Clem. “Is it just Valdian trolls who are weird, then?”

“I dunno, maybe bridges calm them down?”

After breakfast, we prepare to get on the road. Valeria resummons Aethis, and Skulbjor gives our good chomper some quality scritches. Already, the waters flowing into the town appear clearer, less foreboding somehow. Everything else is still, honestly, super Tim Burton-y, but we’ll work on that.

We head out, traveling the now familiar path to Three Oaks Junction. We’re glad to see the bloody chain banners have been taken down. The locals have even made new banners, featuring a shield with a chunk taken out of it, symbolizing they’re under the protection of Duke Shieldeater!

Business has resumed as normal. Some of the outriders are guarding the gate to provide a more visible presence. Not a lot, but they stand out. It’s more of a visual reminder that more orcs are coming and town has agreed to be under protection.

Gral’s pretty psyched his diplomatic master plan is working. Meanwhile, we’ve got trading to do. We manage to sell our old Aquilian coins to Pierre the furrier, who says they’ll be popular in the Demish court. Valeria keeps one of the coins as a collectible.

We’ve got enough stuff to carry and traveling to do that we decide to buy a cart. Clem, familiar with travel from her drow caravan days, heads over to the Used Cart Lot out behind the cart repair, where a guy named Sal shows her around. Looks like these guys do good repair work, with a line of apprentices and masters dating back to Three Oaks himself. Maaaaybe they might get a lot of business from selling carts which will shortly need to be repaired, but Clem uses her know-how and also her impressive guns to intimidate the guy into showing her the good stuff instead of the junkers.

She picks up a nice solid dark oak cart, secondhand, repaired recently. Clem checks it over and it seems pretty sturdy; seems like scavengers found it at an abandoned farmhouse. We also pool funds to buy two draft horses, a shaggy pair that came as a team package. The chestnut one is named Pierogi, and the bay one is named Chestnut. Shoshana attempts to have a Horse Girl Movie moment, but rolls a nat 1 and gets ignored.

Valeria, of course, buys a map to Hoska.

Clem checks her mail – she’s received a form letter thank you from the embassy in Schotzengrad – and sends 200 gold back home to her caravan, along with an update letter. Valeria writes a letter reporting back to Order of the Rose.

Clem gets busy decorating the cart in drow fashion to make it look presentable. She makes a start; a proper drow cart is decorated and redecorated over years and years. She encourages the rest of us to add our own designs, because in drow culture it’s important to have everyone in the caravan participate. We’re not at all familiar with the symbolic language used in drow art, but we’ll give it a try during a few long rests on the road.

Now we have a cart and horses and money and we bought some potions! We roll a mediocre enough survival check to meet the DC, so we head to Hoeska without issue.

Clem’s heard about Hoeska, which stands high in the collective memory of the czar’s military. During the Kevan occupation, it was said that castle was haunted. It was built 400 years ago by Gottfried von Hoesk, a Valdian warlord who wanted to become the first king of a unified Greatwood. He failed, but his descendants have occasionally tried again, and this is their ancestral seat of power. The elves, knowing its significance, took it as one of their first targets and stationed a garrison of 500 elves there. When the Valdian rebellion kicked into high gear, one of the big things that convinced the elves to leave was that the entire garrison vanished without a trace.

Shoshana, well, she’s heard plenty of stories about Hoeska. Every time a Valdian ghost story needs a mad wizard, or a ghost, or a vampire, or generally anything that lives in a big spooky castle, it takes place in Hoeska. Most of those stories are tall tales and urban legends, but on the other hand, there’s been an awfully long history of vampires and ghosts and mad wizards in Valdia, many of whom originated from or occupied the towering, dark castle on its isolated mountain.

Merchants who have been there say it’s a sprawling fortress; every inhabitant since Gottfried von Hoesk, from his descendants to various nobles to the elves, has added something else to castle, so it’s a big mismatch of styles. Some parts are a grim fortress, some are a luxury palace. The castle’s changed hands, but the von Hoesk family is still around and more often than not they ride in and reclaim their ancestral home. A couple of mad wizards were von Hoesks; when something truly evil goes down, usually a bunch of knights ride in and clear it out and some other von Hoesk descendant moves in. Rinse and repeat.

When the Cursebreakers were founded, their first move was to clear out Hoeska and take it over as their headquarters. It’s the Usual Suspect of spooky stuff in Valdia, but if the Cursebreakers found anything relating to the Curse there, they didn’t tell anyone.

Shoshana tells some ghost stories about it. Valeria eats them up. There’s a long Valdian tradition of “having a cousin” who worked at Hoeska as a servant and totally saw something spooky.

With the cart it takes like a day and a half to get from Three Oaks to the edge of Hoeska territory. As we approach, we see a guard house sitting on the road. Gral can see from a distance that the squat stone building appears to be abandoned. That’s not normal. We consider: should we avoid it because it probably has monsters in it, or should we go clear out the monsters and see if there’s loot? We’re gonna go see if there’s loot.

We get out of the wagon and approach, weapons drawn. The small stone building, just big enough for a couple of guards to keep an eye on the road, looks like it was abandoned in a hurry. We case the place quickly; there’s dried blood on the ground in the back storeroom. Maybe someone was killed here, or injured and brought here to get patched up? There’s not a body or anything. Gral’s keen eyes pick up a recent set of footprints; someone came in, after the guards had left, did something here, and then headed out into the woods.

The woods? In the Cursewood? Near the haunted castle? DEFINITELY full of dangerous monsters. But we’re PCs, so we want go investigate the mystery. Aethis stays behind to guard the cart, mildly weirding out the horses.

We follow the tracks into woods. Clem hears something behind her, and as she turns, a furry something whips out of brush and spears her for minor damage. She looks down and sees a scorpion stinger emerging from her torso. She barely has time to register it’s glistening with poison when she’s accosted by massive slavering jaws. This thing looks like it was once a huge wolf, but now has mutated into something far worse, and its teeth are buried deep in Clem’s armor.

Clem goes pale under her ash-dark skin, and must save against the panic and flood of memories brought up by the sudden sight of an attacking wolf.

How in the HELL did that thing get so close without us noticing?! Hell, we were following humanoid tracks – where did this monstrosity come from?!

Valeria immediately smites the hell out of it, and it does enough extra damage we suspect it’s some kind of fiend. Unfortunately, it’s immune to being Frightened, so Gral’s plan to Dissonant Whispers it past two tanks fizzles.

The wolfbeast uses the same tactic on Valeria as it did on Clem – as Valeria’s distracted by deflecting the stinger, it strikes in with its massive jaws, for a huge amount of damage.

Dammit, it’s resistant to Shoshana’s lightning, too. We’re in trouble.

As we’re barely fending this thing off, we can hear snarling and barking coming toward us from another direction. It sounds like wolves or dogs, smaller than this thing tearing through us. And Gral can faintly hear booted humanoid footsteps hurrying alongside them.

Clem misses on her first panicked swing but catches it on the upswing, Great Weapon Master letting her drive the blade deep. Valeria slices it good too, vines tearing through its corrupted flesh. Gral tries to Phantasmal force and fails) It swings its poisonous tail, and Valeria goes down, unconscious. Then it chomps on Clem. Clem is down – except, hold on, not so fast. She uses Last Gasp to use her Second Wind as she falls, in accordance with the Deal she has made with the Pale King.

Panicking, Shosha deals it thunder damage which it does not resist. BIG BOOM THO. That was dumb of me.

Shoshana, panicking, hits the thing with thunder damage. It doesn’t have resistance, but now everything in the forest knows we’re here. As Valeria passes her first Death Save, Gral shouts a Healing Word to keep her alive.

Three large hounds burst from the trees snarling and howling. A voice in Elven shouts “Alexei! Kill! Go for legs!”

Gral can’t understand Elven, so he goes for the neck with his sickle and draws a nasty gash across its throat. The thing glances around, snarling, furious at being deprived its meal, but it recognizes it’s in danger and withdraws, sprinting away into the forest.

A large wood elf wearing a tattered Cursebreaker coat steps out of woods holding a club and a heavy blunderbuss. He whistles sharply, and the hounds abruptly stop their pursuit. “No further!” He gestures, and the hounds spread out and form a perimeter.

“I do not know you,” he says in Valdian, though with a thick elven accent. “You fought the Shusva.”

“…The what?”

“That thing, the Shusva. At least, I found name in book. Seemed similar to this, yes? I am Ser Boris, of Cursebreaker Knights. What brings you here? Is dangerous territory.”

“Kyr Valeria Argent, at your service! We’ve been working with Ser Quentin Morozov.”

A grin breaks across his thickly bearded face. “Ah, Ser Morozov! I know him. The grumpy one! He talks to people, finds what is in hearts and minds. Goes to towns, finds cultists. As he is to the people, I am to the beasts.”

“Yes, we had information for him and needed to make a report. Also we were trying to meet up with another person headed this way?”

He grimaces. “How recently? This Shusva has been stalking roads.”

“Um, recent?” Shoshana interjects. “But he’s accompanied by two fuckhuge goliaths, so…?”

“Oh, yes, him. He is fine. Oh! You injured it!” Ser Boris cries, distracted. He pulls out a small waxed pouch and grabs a chunk of flesh off Clem’s blade. “Good! With this, we can track its scent! Not today, though, you are wounded. Must get you two to castle.”

“These are Alexei, Sasha, and Xander,” he introduces his hounds, which have heeled obediently.

“You are – ah! A drow!” He greets Clem in Elven. “You are very far from home!”

“Ah, home is where you make it,” she replies in kind.

He laughs. “Indeed, indeed. Come, we must share stories back at castle! I move here during war, think it would be peaceful.”

“Yeah, bit of a mistake, huh?”

“I do well enough. I have my dogs, I receive employment. And coat! Employment with coat is better than employment without coat, da?”

We go back to our cart, and Ser Boris is immediately taken with Aethis. “Oh, my! A wonderful beastie. Is it Celestial? May I see teeth?”

Valeria’s happy to make introductions.

“Have you cared for such a creature before? They are adapted for warm streams, not cold woods like these, you know.”

“Do they need any further care than occasional spellwork? That’s all they told us at the academy,” Valeria says, puzzled.

“Is gift from Rack, no? Then double important you take good care! It does not need it, but you must. Caring for exotic mount in inhospitable climate is difficult task. I will give you literature. You would not believe poor beasts Dr. Galvan had, I am giving him dietary instructions, seeing if I can create sweater for them to keep warm…”

He goes back to cooing over Aethis. “Nice luster on scales, though that is expected. Feets---oh, you’ve been running on hard road, you’ll get used to that. Very well. Castle is this way!”

He whistles, and the three hounds form a triangle around group. “Do not wander too far off, they may try to herd you.”

It’s somewhere around here that the pun finally hits the players. Ser Boris. Three dogs. …Cerberus.

The path winds up to the dramatic gates of castle Hoeska.

“Now if you look there, you will see castle.” A lightning bolt cracks dramatically across the sky, casting the castle in ominous silhouette.

“It always does that. It is very stormy around here. I do not know why. Impossible to get good sunlight. I worry for Alexei, he likes to frolic in sun, in fields of flowers. I am not allowed to let him in garden. How will Alexei frolic without field of flowers?”

There’s a Cursebreaker Knight at the gates, some kind of battlemage with a big staff. Next to him is a grim figure in full plate, holding a halberd and looking distinctly displeased to see us.

“Do not mind them, the castle guards do not appreciate us being here,” Ser Boris tells us cheerfully. “It is okay, we have permission. They do not like that we do their job better than them. Hello friend!” He waves. “These are guests, please open gate!”

The guard glares.

“Pretty please, open gate for Ser Boris and friends? And Alexei and Sacha! Oh, have you met Xander yet?”

The guard silently opens the gate, his withering scowl not diminishing a bit.

“I do not know what problem is. Must have woke up on wrong side of bed,” Boris chatters as we enter. “Maybe should not leave lunch where dogs can get it. Guard knows I am here with dogs! Maybe dogs have done nothing wrong ever in their life and guard should apologize for making such a fuss!”

We’re past the castle walls, in a large courtyard before entering the keep proper. As we pass our carts and horses off to some stablehands, we notice a familiar cart and two draft gatorbeasts in the stables, with quilted blankets thrown over them against the chill.

Parked incongruously among the carts is a looming metal construct in a hulking, vaguely humanoid shape, with buzz-saw arms protruding from the front and a machined metal owl mask affixed to what might charitably be called the face area. Peeling paint on the front reads “Valdian Tree Company,” and it’s chained to a heavy wagon proudly bearing the insignia of the Sturmhearst University College of Engineering.

Ser Boris shrugs. “Many visitors are here now. One shows up with that thing. I do not like. Not natural, so much metal moving on own.”

We step into the grand hallway of castle, past another set of guards and a big statue of a fine-featured man in armor, labeled Gottfried von Hoesk. Ah, Ingborg and Bjorn are there, drinking.

We hear someone clear his throat imperiously, and turn to see Ser Quentin, regarding us with annoyance. “You’re late,” he bites out pointedly.

“Uh, did we make an appointment to see you? Because I was certainly not informed,” Shoshana snarks back.

He doesn’t take the bait. “So. The Pale King.”

“…Yup!”

“That letter and those words are why we’ve been stuck here. You’ve been escalated to the higher ups, who would very much like to hear what you have to report in person. Follow me. The dogs can stay here.”

Ser Boris grumbles. “Is fine, they do not bite! Well, they might bite sandvich. I could go for sandvich. I get us all sandviches, yes?”

We head up grand winding stairs, into the more palatial section of castle, and find ourselves passing through long dark galleries full of portraits of von Hoesk ancestors. The eyes follow us as we walk by, natch.

The path we take is DEFINITELY a little bit Scooby Dooby Doors. Ser Quentin Definitely Does Not Get Lost on the way there, what are you talking about? “This place was built by a succession of mad architects in an intergenerational argument with each other, of course it’s a damn maze,” he huffs.

Eventually, we are taken into a small, elegant drawing room. Two figures sit in comfortable armchairs in front of a roaring fire.

“Allow me to present Ser Brigid Konig,” Ser Quentin states formally, gesturing to the old woman calmly knitting in the chair on the left.

The other chair holds a tall man with sharp cheekbones, a fine black and red outfit, and rather similar features to the statue in the foyer. “Our host, Ludwig von Hoesk,” Quentin introduces stiffly.

“Hello,” the old woman, Ser Brigid, greets us warmly. “Our dear Quentin has told me so very little about you. Quentin, did you offer them anything to eat? It would be quite rude to let our guests go hungry.”

“I am told Ser Boris has arranged for sandwiches,”

“Perfect. Sit down, everyone, pull up a chair.”

Gral unnatch 20s a perception. That Ludwig von Hoesk – maybe Gral’s gotten better at picking up on this sort of thing since we’ve spent so much time in in Mornheim, but there’s something odd about that fella. He’s a little too still when he sits still, his motion a little too deliberate. And his skin is awfully pale. The old lady? Her, he can’t get a read on, even with a 20. Daaaaang.

“If you would, please, tell us of your travels. Ser Morozov tells us you first worked together in Ovruch; why don’t you start there?” Ser Brigid asks.

We take turns describing the entities we’ve seen, how we’ve fought them, and how they seem to categorize themselves. We produce the Eyegis as evidence of the Key, and explain what the Astronomer told us regarding the concept of Prisoners.

Ludwig, though very reserved, seems keenly interested in Clem’s tale of Mornheim. Once we’ve told our tale, he asks us to produce the tapestry we took from the cultists in the manor. He examines the partially-woven image carefully, tracing a thin finger over the crowned, skeletal figure.

“Well, Luddy, does it look familiar?” Ser Brigid asks smugly.

The aristocrat is too dignified to roll his eyes, but just barely. “It does. If we’re just going to-“

“Oh, we’d have to clue them in sooner or later. They’ve done more in a few weeks than half my agents have done in years!”

Ser Quentin grumbles audibly. She ignores him.

“Ludwig, is that the symbol you described to me?”

“Yes.”

“And the name?”

“Yes.”

“Do you consider that independent verification of what I told you?”

“Yes.”

“So I think you owe me something, old friend.”

He lets out a huffy, aristocratic sigh. “Yes, fine. You weren’t lying, and I was right not to kill you. I apologize for doubting you.”

“Thank you. Oh, the sandwiches are here!”

He turns his attention back to the tapestry. “Yes, this is the thing that appeared to me and offered me a position at the head of its armies.”

…oh?!?!

He rolls his eyes at our alarm. “I refused, naturally,” he sniffs.

“I should hope so!” Valeria says, and removes her hand from her sword hilt.

“I have no interest in submitting myself to some power-hungry usurper.”

Ser Brigid winks at us. “Perhaps I should re-introduce us properly. My name is Ser Brigid Konig. I was on my way to Valdshart when the city went dark, to formally retire as the Duke’s chief vampire hunter.”

“And this is Ludwig von Hoesk. His son built this castle! For the past couple hundred years, my office has been dedicated solely to hunting and killing him. Greetings!”

She rolls her eyes at her companion, who looks a bit miffed. “Really. They would have figured it out eventually. And you are not subtle about it. With the spooky castle? And the red and black outfit? C’mon, Luddy.”

“A few years ago, shortly after the curse manifested, I had a dream. This in itself is quite unusual; I do not normally experience dreams. In it, a creature resembling the figure on your tapestry appeared to me, offering a position as general of its armies. As its power grew, it would gain control of all undead in Valdia, and it would like myself and my followers to be the first and most honored of its forces. Naturally I refused. There is only one king in Valdia, and it is not some strange skeletal specter.”

“Wait, we have a king?” Shoshana blurts. “…oh. You mean yourself, don’t you.”

“Yes. It was my son’s idea. And what can I say, I spoiled the boy. Now, I was wondering what to do about this vision when who shows up but a bunch of angry knights with crossbows? Not that we’re not used to such incursions.”

“Oh, I’ve been trying to storm this place for years,” Ser Brigid agrees airily. “Every time we try, a mysterious new von Hoesk heir shows up with money and a whole court of followers! People buy it every time. Wishful thinking, I suppose.”

“She accused me of being behind the Curse,” Ludwig explains dryly. “I argued otherwise, and eventually we came to an agreement. Which is why Brigid Konig, my worst nightmare, HAS BEEN LIVING IN MY HOUSE.”

“Yes!” she agrees, with a beatific granny smile. “This way, if you ARE behind it, I can kill you!” She lifts the blanket she’s knitting just enough to give us a peek at the crossbow hidden underneath. Gral sees runes on the crossbow similar to his heartseeker bolts. “The rules are simple! I get to use his house and money, and his people assist as we try to get to bottom of this thing! And in exchange, I don’t kill him!”

Ludwig sighs. “She removes the monsters. I don’t appreciate monsters in my land, and I genuinely will do anything in my not inconsiderable power to drive out these ruinous Prisoners. Even if it means entertaining a woman who’s been a thorn in my side for the last sixty years.”

“Not a thorn, arrows!” she retorts cheerfully. “And a scythe one time. You got better, you big baby!”

“Of course I got better, I’m a vampire.”

Quentin sighs. “Needless to say, all information disclosed in this room is top secret. Frankly, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t have chosen to divulge even this much.”

Ser Brigid turns her level gaze on him. “Please. The orc would have spotted something and said ‘My goodness, Kyr Argent, I suspect something is up with that handsome and brooding fellow,’ and then she would have Detected Undead, and killed several guards, and the castle would be on fire, and we’d be in the dungeons having this conversation, but it would be far more awkward!” She turns to us. “Have I read the situation right?”

“…yup,” admits Valeria.

“See? Now Quentin, dear, eat your sandwich, you’re far too skinny.”

Ludwig is not eating a sandwich. He has a glass of red wine, of course.

They grill us a bit about the Key, specifically, and the Sturmhearst scholars we met who seem rather susceptible to the whole knowledge-seeking lure.

“Hmm, yes. We have several guests here, two of whom are professors. Professor Galvan, whom you’ve met, and a visitor from Sturmhearst. Professor Bjork, from the College of Engineering. I have some suspicions about things going on there. He’s told us a few concerning stories; you might want to pick his brain and get your take on the situation.”

“Such an august institution,” Ludwig agrees. “I gave some of the money to start the place, I’d hate to see it go bad.”

We wonder if he knows Dr. Wendell. But it’s getting late, and while the party discusses their experiences in great detail, we’re going to cut session and pick back up once they’re ready to go meet some other guests of the von Hoesks.

[sorceressmidnight]

Midnight Sorceress

Chapter: 6/? [1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - ?]

Chapter 6: You’re Not Alone

Words: 2925

Warnings: Some cursing, medication and therapy mentions, a heated argument, relapse mention, choking briefly, fighting

Primarily following the events of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, it revolves around an original character.

Description as posted on ao3:  A member of SHIELD is forced to struggle with her mental stability and keeping her secret as the craziness surrounding the Avengers crashes around her. She ends up befriending Tony and Pepper, who help out her mental health a great deal, but will they be able to help her with her secret? Something that could destroy her if she uses it too much… What will happen when Tony tries to convince her to use it to help the Avengers?

Read on ao3: here

Tags: @txnystarkimagines @h0bsyrup

Hit me up if you want to be tagged in future chapters.

This chapter happens just before and during Age of Ultron.

“Pep’s gonna flip when she finds out you've been tinkering and making suits again.” Tony groaned under his breath, leaning over and pinching the tip of her nose lightly. “You know it helps with my anxiety.” “So would some pills, or maybe therapy,” Kiana retorted, pushing his hand away and rubbing her nose. “You know I don't have time for that,” he grumbled, going back to his work. “Besides, I'm close to finishing your suit. Would you prefer a whole head mask, just over the eyes, or goggles?” “I'm sure she'd be against that too, only because she probably wouldn't want me fighting either. I guess it doesn't matter… as long as I can see? I guess?” “You're so indecisive,” he pinched her cheeks softly, pouting. “I'm hoping to have it ready by the next time we go on a mission.” “I… I can't go with you guys… I'm not an avenger! Plus!! All superheroes have cool backstories! I'm just… I'm just me!” “...  That's what you're concerned about? Seriously? You can spar with both Nat and Clint, you have pretty decent endurance from your martial arts and swimming, and you can literally make a pile of dirt fight for you. But… you're not capable of being a superhero. Right.” The sarcasm in his voice was thick by the end of his little speech. It was an attempt to rile her up, knowing she hated it when he gave her that tone. “I could die, Tony!” “That's what the suit’s for.” “I could still die…” she pouted, crossing her arms. “That's what we're here for. We help keep each other safe. You already have three people who care about you on the team. We wouldn't let anything serious happen. You’d be a huge help to the team… Okay, how about this. Lemme finish up with the suit, and we’ll go from there. Sound fair?” She sighed finally, pinching his cheek. “Fine, but when I say I’m uncomfortable, you back down.” “Don’t worry. I’d never try to push you further than you could go. Besides, most of the stuff I’d be taking you on would be raids, so we’d have an advantage anyway. C’mon, though. Pep wanted to go out for food.”

Kiana pulled the curtain and walked out from the makeshift changing room, standing in front of Tony, Bruce, and Sammy with her arms crossed. She was wearing the suit Tony had made for her, now with a pair of goggles that covered her eyes and wrapped around her the back of her head, an earpiece connected so she could stay in contact with everyone. The goggles were black with the glass tinted a light blue. “Okay. Gavin, tell her about the specs.” “Sure. Would you prefer Miss Mariveil or Kiana?” “Kiki’s fine. You can simplify it. I’ve got a headache and I’m not in the mood for lengthy explanations.” “I can tell. I have been programmed to monitor your health as to make sure nothing is to go wrong during fights. Mr. Stark designed it with leather to be sturdy for fighting with the added technology of increasing the percentage of your powers by roughly fifty percent. In case of emergencies, I can increase the percentage which will allow me to channel your power to create a safer situation for you. This is mostly if you become unconscious or are severely wounded. Your goggles are used to keep communication with the others while out on a mission. I am also able to assist you with how best to maneuver.” “Okay, Gavin, was it? I have a question.” “Of course, what is it?” “Can I call you Ethan? I think that fits your voice better.” “If that’s what you wish, then you can address me as Ethan.” “Whoa! Hey,” Tony butted in, crossing his arms. “I made him. You can’t just go and change his name.” “Sir, I was created for Miss Mariveil. I believe it is up to her to decide what to call me.” “I like him,” Kiana smirked, putting her hands on her hips. “So, I’m guessing we’re going to do one last test run? Since this should be the ‘final’ version?” “I do have a question,” Sammy piped up, “why is limited in the first place?” “After several tests and examination of everything, it has been determined that fifty percent is high enough to use her powers for an extended time with no major repercussions. However, any higher than about fifty-five to sixty percent would make it difficult for Kiki to keep control of her powers. It also is harder to scan the stress on her body the higher the percentage.” “Now we can work on testing this baby out,” Kiana smirked as she looked towards the machine she had been testing her powers on since Tony first made the suit. She lifted her arms and gestured her hands to begin lifting the machine, watching as it started lifting off of the floor until it was about halfway from the floor and the ceiling. She grinned to herself, giving out a happy laugh as she slowly brought it back down. The others quietly stared, waiting to see what she had to say. “I didn’t feel anything, Tony! It felt no different than lifting a pencil!” she shouted, jumping up to hug him. He held her tightly and swung her around, joining her in happy laughter. “That’s great!” he finally let her down, smiling, “Gav--Ethan, stress levels?” “Everything is normal, Mr. Stark.”

“Tony!” Kiana called out as she watched Tony stare into space, making her way down to him. He was staring blankly forward towards what was formerly Loki’s scepter. He shook his head, seeming to come to before reaching his arm out, the glove of his armor coming before he grabbed it. “Are you okay?” she asked, brows raised as she saw something in the corner of her eye. She tried to see what it was, but nothing was there once she did look. He finally turned and faced her, brows knitted together. “I’m fine. Are you?” He ushered her up the stairs and out of the area.

“Hey, Pep! Tony’s throwing a party in a couple of days, are you coming?” Kiki asked, pressing the a button on the side of her goggles as they collapsed down into one ear piece. Pepper raised a brow as she watched the goggles collapse, concern growing on her face. “What is that?” “Huh? Oh, uh… It’s my suit. It’s so I can use my powers without putting too much strain on myself.” “Use?! For what?! Did-” she stopped and grabbed her arms, gesturing over some cuts and scrapes she had received when they went on their mission, “Did Tony make this?! He should know better than to take you out on a mission!” “I-It’s not that bad…” she tried to retort, feeling Pepper grabbing her hand and pulling her towards where she would find Tony. “I don’t care! That’s not the point!” It took a minute or two before they found him, Pepper more furious the longer it took to get to him. He smiled at the two, about to say something before he was cut off. “What the hell is this about?! How could you let her go out on a mission?! She could die, Tony!” “W-whoa, Pep… She was great! She was never alone, I had an eye on her all the time! I would never let anything happen to her!” he tried to reassure her. “That’s not what I’m talking about! She did get hurt! Do you see her arms?! What if this causes her to relapse?!” Her brows furrowed, forcing him to look over the cuts and scrapes. “Pepper,” Tony gently rubbed her shoulders, “nothing happened. How about this? I won’t take her out on another mission.” “You said you wouldn’t be making anymore suits!” she hissed, pushing his hands off of her shoulders. “I’m not going to let you risk Kiki’s life, too!” She grabbed Kiana’s hand, brows knitted together as she turned to walk off. He grabbed her hand before she left out the door, frowning. “Don’t you think isolating her and taking her from her friends will worsen her depression?! Besides, she’s an adult, I think she should be given the chance to choose what she gets to do!” “Ugh! Fine! I’m leaving!” she hissed at Tony, gently holding Kiana’s hands. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me, okay? I’m available any time,” she gave her a tight hug before a soft kiss on her forehead, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind her. Kiana frowned, staring at the floor. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, soft tears forming in her eyes. “Hey, hey… It’s not your fault, okay? You didn’t make Pep leave. It’ll be alright,” he pulled her into a hug, calming her down from the previous tension.

The party began as planned, most showing up around the start of it while others straggled into the tower. Most of them chatting with one another, others at the bar getting a drink, some others just watching the excitement from the comfort of their own little zone. Sammy and Kiana were sitting on a couch together, watching the party go on from off in the corner. “I plan on taking pictures. Everyone’s probably going to act stupid, so I want as much proof as possible to make fun of them with later on,” Kiana smirked, scrolling on her phone as glanced around to see if there was anything picture worthy. “I’m glad you’re here. I barely know anyone and I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone either,” Sammy murmured, taking a sip of her drink. The two chatted as they watched the others, taking pictures and laughing at some of the antics of the others. Tony strolled his way over to the corner, staring down at the two with a brow arched. “What’re you two up to?” “Avoiding social interaction.” “Makes sense for you, but what about you? Are you still upset about what happened with Pep?” His voice softened by his second question. Kiana gave a quick flash of a half-smile and a shrug of her shoulders. “I’m just not fully feeling up for partying. I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed, I guess.” “Hey… it’ll be alright. I’ll make sure of it. If you want to talk, just grab me, okay?” He asked, receiving a nod in response before he rejoined the majority of the party. The party started to slow and eventually ended with just the members of the Avengers, Maria, Rhodey, Helen Cho, Sammy, and Kiana. There became a challenge with some of them in trying to pick up Thor’s Mjolnir, Kiana recording in short bursts as each person tried to lift it, laughter filling the room during the struggles. After Thor saying ‘You’re all not worthy’ and some bickering among everyone, there was a loud screeching that forced everyone to wince and cover their ears, looking around in attempts to find what made the noise.

“Tony, I-... I’m sorry about Jarvis... “ Kiana gently wrapped her arms around Tony’s shoulders, leaning over him slightly as he sat on his chair, hands in his lap. She squeezed softly as she hugged him, knowing how upset he must be. “I…” he balled his hands, nails lightly digging into his fists. “I have to stop him.” “You won’t have to do it alone,” she spoke softly, leaning her head against his gently. He sighed, lifting his arms to hug her back, feeling vulnerable and weak yet comforted by the simple action.

“Just be careful, okay?” came Kiana’s voice to Tony, brows knitted together as she looked around, watching as Tony intercepted Ultron. She watched as the fight began, working to stop the bullets from hitting the others and disarming some of the men that were brought in. She helped from the sidelines, staying out of sight and making it easier for the others to take down the enemies. A hand found its way around her throat, squeezing as she was lifted into the air, being face to face with Ultron now. “Why is it I can’t find any files on you? I would assume Stark would want to keep something on you and that little suit he made, but I can’t find anything,” he spaced the last four words out as he spoke. “Kiki,” she heard Ethan through the earpiece, struggling to keep breathing, “since he’s not human, you can directly use your powers on him. Take advantage of that to get him off of you, then use the railing behind you to get down to the others.” Her brows knitted together, moving her hands and using her powers to pry his hand off of her throat, landing on the walkway below the two. After inhaling deeply for the first time in about thirty seconds, she then threw him through the nearest wall before grabbing onto the railing and bending it to get down onto the lower floor. “Oh jeez,” she murmured, seeing everyone except Clint down. “You can say that again.” “Natasha, I could really use a lullaby.” came Tony’s voice through the headset, causing the two to look at one another. “Well, that’s not gonna happen. Not for a while. The whole team is down, you got no back up here.” Clint responded. “I’m not down! I’m on my way,” Kiana stood up swiftly, ready to rush out. “No, you stay with Barton. He’ll need help getting everybody back to the jet. I’ll meet up with you when I’ve gotten Bruce back.” “He’s right, we should work on that before anyone else shows up. I can carry one person, do you think you could use your powers?” “Yeah. Let’s just get them on something that I can lift.” The two worked together to get two of their teammates on a large sheet of metal they found lying around before taking them back to the jet together. Tony and Bruce eventually rejoined them as they left the area, headed towards a safe house in attempts to stay underground for a while.

[hexusproductions]

Art and Snark

Title: Art and Snark Summary: Bruce runs into a familiar face at an art gallery. Jesus... Author’s Notes: I’ve wanted to do this one for a while now, actually. Enjoy!

The art gallery seems to have repaired quite well following Crazy Quilt’s last attack. Even if the people around him had known about the former blue paint and the liquid that had been red but definitely had not been paint strewn across the walls, they wouldn’t be able to tell where it had been. Unlike him, of course.

“Bruce!” Claire sauntered up to him, drunk off of praise and a little bit of champagne, “Liking the exhibition so far?”

“It’s wonderful, Claire. You truly are a gifted artist.” He chuckled, flashing a smile. Claire beamed and released her grip on his arm, no doubt trying to hide that she had been using him as a support, and went off to another group of admirers. Bruce turned his attention back to the piece in front of him, a mix of browns and greens and reminiscent of a forest.

He was happy for Claire, he really was. She’d come a long way since the last time he’d seen her, struggling to make ends meet and get an idea onto the canvas. The only problem was that he felt like he had been invited merely to attract attention to the exhibition, like a lantern in an air full of moths.

Bruce’s lips twisted into a faint smile, more genuine this time.

Still, he was happy to be here if it meant supporting a former friend.

Bruce was brought back to Earth as an athletic-looking brunette stepped beside him, wearing a short, modest, and fairly loose-fitting red dress. A silver chain hung around her neck, hair pulled up in a high ponytail, and a pair of dark sunglasses hiding her eyes.

All of this registered in the short glance up and down that Bruce gave to the woman, and he frowned slightly.

It couldn’t be, could it?

“Enjoying the exhibition?” Bruce questioned, keeping his tone conversational, and the brunette shrugged.

“Not really my kind of thing, to be honest.”

The accent was a dead giveaway, and Bruce glanced around quickly. When he looked back with a scowl, the brunette was smiling widely.

“Hiya Bruce.”

He turned his attention back to the painted canvas, making sure any passers-by would think they were discussing the art.

“What are you doing here?” Bruce hissed.

“No hello? Rude. And it’s been so long since we last saw each other.” Sorceress grinned, acting casual herself.

“Because last time you and your power-hungry partner tried to take over the theatre district.”

“First of all, he’s not hungry, he just likes it. Just like you and stormy rooftops.” Sorceress corrected, cocky all the while, “And second, it wasn’t the entire theatre district. Just a block or two.”

“So why are you here now?”

“Thought I’d come and appreciate the art. Is that a crime?”

“No, but theft is.” Bruce replied flatly, and Sorceress looked at him, nothing but that smile showing with the sunglasses still on her face.

“Compared to, what, breaking and entering? Assault? Vigilantism?”

Bruce was quiet for a moment, and Sorceress chuckled.

“Got ya, didn’t-“

“You used to enjoy it too.”

Sorceress blinked, or at least she seemed to.

“Excuse me?”

“You used to enjoy it too. Helping to stop them. Helping to stop crime.” Bruce continued, and Sorceress crossed her arms casually but with hints of a familiar defiance.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I enjoyed the thrill.”

“Now why do I have trouble believing you?”

Sorceress didn’t reply, staring at Bruce for a few minutes until just after he mentally decided that he was a little uncomfortable.

“Seeing you shift from Bruce voice to Batman voice to Bruce again is extremely unnerving.” Sorceress remarked. They both fell into silence as an overweight man passed behind them, nodding towards the artwork appreciatively. The silence continued after he was gone.

“So do you miss me?” Sorceress spoke eventually, smiling again. Bruce didn’t answer, and Sorceress frowned.

“You’re such a killjoy.”

“As you’ve said. Repeatedly.” Bruce replied, and Sorceress quickly pulled a face at him before looking forward again. Her arms were still crossed, but tenser than before.

“You never really liked me did you?”

Bruce didn’t answer. He could see that Sorceress was getting restless, and that could easily mean that she was about to flare up. He couldn’t let anyone get hurt.

“You know I’m not exactly the friendly type.” Bruce remarked casually.

“Yeah no kidding.” Sorceress chuckled. She paused, and Bruce looked at her.

“You didn’t do anything.” She sighed, sounding exasperated, “I left ‘cause I wasn’t happy.”

“Were you ever really capable of such a thing.”

“Oh ha ha ha, detective.” Sorceress pulled another face before shrugging, “It was mostly all the rules. You and the other heroes expected a certain mould, and I just didn’t fit.” Bruce looked at her, an eyebrow raised slightly. Sorceress saw the look, and turned her head back to the painting.

“There’s always been this,” She waved her hand, an unnoticeable gesture by itself, “And the thrill-seeking, and the adrenaline addiction.”

Bruce looked at her in surprise.

“You mean…?“

“Yep. Hopefully only a minor one, early diagnosis and everythin’.” Sorceress shrugged, before continuing, “Plus there’s a lot, a lot of anger and aggression. But again, you’d know something about that wouldn’t you?” She smiled teasingly. Bruce was admittedly a little shocked. It wasn’t surprising, but…

“You know what you’re doing isn’t right.”

“You’ve always been so stubborn.” Sorceress smiled, turning to him, “You’re thinkin’ of someone like Crane or Edward. But I don’t hurt innocent people, and my biggest crime is probably the occasional bank break in.”

“And jewellery stores.”

“That was a phase.” Sorceress retorted, “The whole new villain thing was exciting and I got a little too hyped.”

“Oh so you’ll be returning the priceless twin sapphires you stole.”

“Can’t. We sold them to Two-Face.” Sorceress said simply, then continued, “Bottom line, Bruce, I feel happier. It’s stupid and illegal, but I’m not being towed behind anyone anymore. Feels good on the soul.” Sorceress emphasized the last sentence by holding a hand over her heart. The two of them looked at each other and chuckled. Bruce rolled his eyes. She was always going to stay the same.

A man walked towards the two of them, dressed in a dark suit with a smile just as sharp. Bruce recognized him immediately and his smile faded.

“Hello, beautiful.” Music Meister put his arm around Sorceress’s waist, smile widening to a grin, “I hope Mr Wayne here hasn’t been trying to sweep you off your feet while I’ve been gone.”

The thought shared between Bruce and Sorceress was almost telepathic.

He doesn’t know. Keep it that way.

“Oh I couldn’t if I tried.” Bruce laughed, shifting back into the usual persona, “Morgan here is certainly a witty young woman, but she’s too smart to be tricked.”

“Well,” Meister chuckled, tilting her chin up towards him with a more devilish smile, “I wouldn’t know about that.”

“You’re embarrassing sometimes, y’know that?” Sorceress told him before stepping away, and Michel raised an eyebrow.

“Time to go, Morgan?” He questioned, and Bruce saw the mischievous look that passed between them. They were definitely planning something.

“Yes.” Sorceress agreed before gesturing, “You go and I’ll catch up, I still gotta say goodbye to Bruce.” Meister nodded, smiled towards Bruce, and walked away with a casual, unhurried stride. Sorceress and Bruce shook hands like they were old friends who wanted to meet at another, less formal time, before Sorceress suddenly hugged him.

“’Witty young woman’?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Yeah well now you’ve got Claire the art bimbo to look forward to. You know she-“

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Then shut up and enjoy the show.”

“You know I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“This is so fucking weird.”

Sorceress released him, quickly hiding her discomfort. She fixed the glasses on her face and grinned before waving and walking away. Bruce watched her leave, then walked quickly through the gallery. He brushed by people and gently pushed a few more on his path towards the back exit. By the time he got to the door, a loud shout of surprise came from close by, followed by a few gasps.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves!”

Bruce quickly darted through the door.