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clarenecessities · 3 years

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As my followers may have picked up from my long, spiraling rants, I’ve undertaken a new research project, courtesy of the death grip She-Ra has on my brain. And guess what? It’s finally at Disseminate Information Stage! So I’m going to lay out all of the gods, demigods, and godbeasts of the Masters of the Universe. With sources!

This table is more of a cheat sheet. We’re gonna tackle this god by god, with a section on Actual Lore & a meta section to help you decide how valid you think they are, because frankly some canons are more canon than others.

Asklepia, Benevolent Snake Goddess

Lore: Asklepia is one of two snake goddesses, the benevolent twin sister of Serpentia. We know very little about her abilities, but the Snake Clan (a clan of human warriors) were said to worship her, and they were famed for their architecture and healing. She had the ability to curse and deform people--to what extent is uncertain, but she’s known to have condemned a fallen priest named Ka, whose disfigured likeness now adorns Snake Mountain.

Behind the Scenes: First appearing in the 1987 comic “Il Nero Cristallo Del Potere“, Asklepia remained nameless for over 30 years, until Masters of the Universe Classics (MOTUC) released a few choice bios. For the unfamiliar, MOTUC seeks to reconcile the often contradictory canons into one overarching narrative, which is great in theory, but in practice is kind of like putting ice cream on a hot dog. And calling it a Chilly Dog ® as if that makes it taste better. But I digress. In 2019 they released a bio for the Staff of Ka which finally put a name to the less-evil Snake Goddess, in an obvious nod to Asclepius and the asklepian (that staff+snake icon people put on medical stuff).

Sharella, the Green Goddess and/or “Avatar” of Asklepia

Lore: Contradictory

Long Version: Okay I’ve put avatar in quotes because it is... contentious. Basically, and you’ll see here why I felt the need to make this post instead of relying blindly on the wikis, Sharella was introduced (in the ‘87 licensing guide) as a tribal leader who had joint custody of Gray, the original name of He-Ro’s alter ego, while he was growing up. This was further developed by Emiliano Santalucia’s concept work, wherein she was the leader of the Green Tiger Tribe (GTT) specifically. While the comic concept was not run through licensing & is thus not “canon”, the idea of her leading the GTT persisted. This teeny tiny image of her from Tytus and Megator’s 1987 Italian box art was all we had until 2008, when one of He-Man’s accessories described her as the “warrior woman ally” of Queen Veena, “who had been changed into the immortal green-skinned avatar of the Goddess Asklepia”. In 2009, MOTUC released a figure for The Goddess, apparently forgetting they’d done that shit the year before because the packaging did say “K’yrulla” was her real name. They had to cover it up with a sticker.

So who’s The Goddess? Way back in the days before Mattel solidified any of the lore around MOTU, there were mini-comics released with the toys. Initially, the Goddess served a similar function to the Sorceress in the cartoon, and was in fact sometimes called the Sorceress. She facilitated He-Man’s transformations, gave him missions, was generally magical and mysterious, etc. If you know who the Sorceress is, and you can picture Teela, but green? That’s about it.

Back to Sharella, though. The Third Ultimate Battleground rolled around in 2015, and for the first time since some packaging in the 80s, we saw Sharella in action! She was shot through the heart with a poison arrow. Yeah. But don’t worry, she received a blood transfusion from Moss Man (who we’ll get to later), and was transformed into the Green Goddess! She’s immortal now. How Asklepia figures in here is sort of unclear, which is weird since this is still part of the MOTUC line, but whatever. Whatever! Queen Grayskull (the aforementioned Veena) received a bio in 2015 as well, which described Sharella as her apprentice who became “The Goddess”.

Horokoth, Aspect of the Mother Goddess

Lore: DC went a little batshit (pun intended) with the lore for the Eternity War. Here the Goddess is three combined aspects, “Serpos” (Serpentia) for the Snake Men, Zoar for the human “Eternians”, and a third, invented deity called Horokoth, who represents the Horde. Horokoth is “the coming destroyer. The darkness at the end of days.” and is represented by a bat.

Behind the Scenes: That last link has a clearer picture of her, it just didn’t crop well. Also, I confess I couldn’t bring myself to read Eternity War. As thrilling as the prospect of a cohesive narrative is, if I wanted to see Adora slit her brother’s throat there’s the edgier side of deviantArt to peruse. Therefore I know little of Horokoth outside of a few still images of Hordak. The bat was almost certainly selected for the Horde’s vespertilian emblem.

Hordeous, God-Beast of Horokoth

Lore: A “primordial”, bat-like godbeast of Horokoth, created in response to the god Saz’s feline races. Their face was “forever infused“ on the surface of Horde World by Horde Lord (Hordak and Horde Prime’s father in the MOTUC canon) to grant their family power and immortality.

Behind the Scenes: Yes they’ve used some words wrong, but they’ve got the spirit, right? Hordeous was (allegedly, this is secondhand) an invention of the MOTUC crew in answer to Horokoth. Now, the Horde Supreme bio predates Horokoth’s introduction by about 3 years, but obviously the comics were in production already. There’s an undated sketch of Horokoth Hordak from an undated interview (thanks for nothing you useless website) but in that same gallery there’s an orko sketch labeled 2012 so. We’re good right? That makes sense, timeline-wise. Anyway the comics slam dunked Horde Prime out of existence and combined him with Horde Lord so it’s contradictory anyway. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Serpentia, Malevolent Snake Goddess

Lore: The evil counterpart of Asklepia, Serpentia is the goddess of the Snake Men. The priest Ka of the Snake Clan forsook Asklepia in her favor, destroying Asklepia’s sacred orb and stealing the Serpent Ring (an artefact capable of transforming humans into Snake Men) from the Ophidian Spire with King Hsss. In DC’s triune interpretation of the Goddess, Serpentia (here ‘Serpos’) is blood, passion, and desire. A primal and primordial force appearing to the Snake Men in their own image.

Behind the Scenes: Okay yes I’ve reused the Asklepia pic but in my defense they are twins and this is the easiest one to crop. So here’s the thing about Serpentia: we only got a name for her in 2019. We knew there was a snake goddess, and she was pretty evil, or at least hostile towards mammalian life (see: the source of the pic I chose for her). Where Asklepia references the asklepian, ‘Serpentia’ is a much more heavy-handed snake reference, even though Anguis was right there. Those Masters Mondays came through for us, though, with the shield and staff of Ka, Ssssylph, and of course MOTUC’s Dark Despot Skeletor, which is. something. Though only recently named, Serpentia has been a shadow over Eternia since the Snake Men’s introduction in 1985 (or, depending on how much of the presented backstory you accept, even sooner in the form of Skeletor’s lair, Snake Mountain).

Serpos/Sarcedon, God-Beast of Snake Mountain

Lore: Contradictory, but the gist of it is he’s a very large snake with elemental magic and a grudge, that was turned to stone and became Snake Mountain.

Long Version: Snake Mountain was conceived of towards the end of 1982, but wasn’t revealed to the public until September of 1983, with the debut of the Filmation cartoon. For another year, the snake coiled around its summit was simply a carving, its mouth hollowed out for Skeletor to stand in and loom. But in 1984 the Snake Mountain toy was released, completely discarding the Filmation design in favor of the hewn face of the figure we now call Ka. Instead of a snake carving winding its way up the peak, the Mattel toy featured a ‘striking serpent’, alive and attached to the mountain itself. From there, it was an easy leap to make to ‘this carving comes alive’. So easy, in fact, that they did it twice!

First attempted in 1985 in the newspaper storyline “Vengeance of the Viper King”, the snake was here called Sarcedon, the World Destroyer. At the dawn of time, he was said to crush Eternia within his deadly coils. He burrowed deep into the ground, causing fearsome storms that nearly destroyed the planet. Only a fearless hero (implied to be He-Ro) could defeat and imprison Sarcedon. Using a macguffin called a Mirror of History, He-Man forced Sarcedon to behold his own reflection in a reference to the Medusa myth that kind of missed the point of it being reflective. Sarcedon was sent back in time, Snake Mountain was restored, the good guys win, blah blah blah.

That was the last of it until the MYP cartoon in 2004. Serpos as a name was actually first invoked by Mer-Man in a 1982 minicomic, but like it probably wasn’t about the snake. Anyway in the MYP cartoon the Snake Men get this thing called the Medallion of Serpos that lets them un-petrify the snake around Snake Mountain, grow two more heads, and unleash his godly wrath. He breathes fire, trashes Eternos, beats up He-Man, then turns his attention on Castle Grayskull to consume the Orb of Power (containing the strength and wisdom of the Elders, who had first trapped him in stone). He-Man cuts off Serpos’s extra heads with a sword upgrade, the Elders are somehow magically restored to life, and they re-petrify him. Snake Mountain is restored, the good guys win, blah blah blah.

Zoar, the Fighting Falcon

Lore: Contradictory, but it sure is a bird!

Long Version: While Sharella’s backstory is fraught because of the comics couldn’t decide what they wanted her to be, Zoar was similarly tangled up by the toyline. Initially male, he went through several color schemes, some prettier than others. Though there was a vague association with the Sorceress before the cartoon (recall that pre-Filmation, the Sorceress was just the Goddess), Filmation made them literally inseperable by designating Zoar as the Sorceress’s falcon form, to which she was confined when leaving Castle Grayskull.

Some of the comics and Golden books showed Zoar as being flipping enormous & ridden into battle as a steed by Teela and Man-at-Arms. Pre-Filmation, Zoar was always referred to as male, but post-Filmation, always female, as an incarnation of the Sorceress.

The Eternity Wars comics describe Zoar as the third aspect of the Goddess, the ‘Great Preserver’ whose light would shine through the universe for eternity. They pull off a sort of tripartite priestess thing where it’s Serpos/Zoar/Horokoth represented by Teela-Na (the Sorceress)/Teela/Evil-Lyn.

MOTUC, of course, had to reconcile all of these contradictory canons. How’d they do it? “In the folklore of Eternia, the golden falcon symbolized the godhead Zoar, a powerful deity of Preternia. As a god, Zoar could appear in both male and female guises and while the blue-tipped female falcon was associated with the Sorceress of Grayskull, the golden falcon represented Zoar's masculine nature.” So Zoar is genderfluid now, and the Sorceress is merely borrowing their form when transforming into a falcon. This bio also established that Zoar had anointed the first Sorceress, Veena (Queen Grayskull), which explains why she has wings for no apparent reason.

Also it’s not offically MOTUC but the scultors of the line, Four Horsemen, made a single anthro Zoar for Power-Con 2013. In case you need that for some reason.

Glorybird, Emissary of Zoar

Lore: Many millennia ago, there were three siblings, who were very poor and mistreated by their stepmother, but had hearts filled with kindness and love. Zoar, recognizing their resilience and desire to help people, sent an emissary named Glorybird. Glorybird bestowed upon each sibling a divine gift, but as they used their new powers to fight for good, their stepmother revealed herself to be a Celestial Witch & attempted to sacrifice them to Zoar’s “greatest enemy”, Horokoth.

Backstory: Okay, so the Star Sisters (and Glorybird) were in exactly one episode of She-Ra, primarily to set them up as new toy designs. While prototypes were made for these, the figures weren’t actually produced until MOTUC released figures for them in 2012. Though they were referenced in Princess Prom, and we saw a brief cameo in a background, Glorybird was absent until the introduction of the Star Siblings in Season Five.

That’s right! This bird is a god, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Saz, God of All Felines

Lore: One of the “Gods of the Multiverse” (he is the only member named explicitly), Saz was a blue-furred, feline deity responsible for the creation of all cats, humanoid or otherwise. He transformed himself into an enormous cat-beast to defeat Serpos and Hordeous, whose progenitors created them in envy of his children. Though Serpos was defeated, Hordeous escaped into the cosmos, and Saz himself vanished mysteriously.

Behind the Scenes: “By the whiskers of Saz!” is a fun pseudo-swear made by various cat races throughout MOTU, first in He-Man’s “The Cat and the Spider” and later in She-Ra’s “Magicats”. That was the only real mention of him until... okay, so MOTUC bios aren’t always attached to the product. Starting in 2018, they did this thing called Masters Mondays where they put unposted bios on the org forums. So while we’ve had the sword since 2010, we didn’t get the background on it until March of 2020. And then a couple weeks later, the Cat Mask of Catra bio referred to him as a “mystical being” instead of a god, but the mask was from 2011 so. He may not have been a god yet. It really depends on when the bios were actually written.

Saz wielded a blade probably best described as a falchion, whose quillon & langet formed a vaguely triangular shape around a deep red gem. I want to be clear that while it looks totally rad, this sword would be very impractical and have poor structural integrity were it not made by a literal god. Do not make swords like this. Also it’s almost certainly riffing on the Sword of Omens from Thundercats (affectionate).

Sabe-Or, Son of Saz

Lore: A green-furred, orange-striped paladin, Sabe-Or is one of the only named Ancients. He inherited his father’s blade upon Saz’s mysterious disappearance, and lived for centuries more. Upon his death, he transferred his “heroic essence” into a group of Eternian tigers, forever transforming them into the Green Tiger Tribe, whence both Granger (steed of King Grayskull), and Cringer, steed of Prince Adam.

Behind the Scenes: So “Battle Cat Man” is a concept that’s existed since they decided to make their hero ride a wicked tiger into battle. If you show a kid a superhero, and a supertiger, apparently the natural inclination of most children in the 80s was to combine the two. There are so many custom action figures. So, so many. Sabe-Or is visually a clear reference to this concept, and canonically seems to be the closest we’re going to get outside of the Thundercats crossover, unless you count Cowarros from 4H’s Mythic Legions line (I do, because it means Purrrplor is also canon and I fucking love calling him that).

Moss Man, Ancient Eternian Nature God

Lore: An ally of King Grayskull, Moss Man was something of an Eternian cryptid in the centuries leading up to He-Man Times. He has control over all plant life, the ability to meld with plants, and apparently can imbue sentience to said plants.

Behind the Scenes: Moss Man wasn’t featured in many episodes, because he’s a little... incredibly over-powered. He’s literally Bigfoot from 5000 years ago with magic powers. And like, since I don’t think the writers appreciate how long 5000 years is, you know what happened 5000 years ago? Stonehenge. This bitch is Stonehenge-old. But sure, you can trace a direct line of descent from his contemporary. smh. Anyway according to MOTUC his real name is Kreann’Ot N’Norosh so make of that what you will. Also his toys were pine-scented. I just love that.

Evil Seed, Rebellious Creation of Moss Man

Lore: Created by Moss Man to help fight in the Great Wars, Evil Seed betrayed his master and turned to evil (who could have foreseen this...), finding joy in corrupting all forms of plant life for his own amusement. Moss Man imprisoned him in enchanted chains, keeping him restrained for many millennia.

Behind the Scenes: According to MOTUC, his real name is Sero Malustro, clumsy New Latin for “(to) plant evil-burnt“. Why his name is New Latin and Moss Man’s is... whatever that is, I have no idea. As you can see from the image I included, he originally had an artichoke head, which was upgraded for the Mike Young Productions (MYP) cartoon. Personally I think the artichoke rules.

Volcana, the Fire Goddess

Lore: Canonically, she’s a fire goddess, and the mother of the Volcano Magus. Together, they are a rising force that seeks to conquer Etheria in the wake of Hordak’s defeat.

Backstory: Volcana has taken a long a twisted journey, but was first revealed to fans at Power-Con 2016 in a panel revealing previously unseen concepts and characters. After the first wave of She-Ra toys, a second wave was planned with a snow focus, to bring more attention the Filmation-neglected Frosta. This began with the introduction of a fire villain, an “evil lady that glows with heat” who would attempt to melt Castle Chill. That concept actually refers to a character named Amber (not Ember, as one might assume) who was reworked into a benevolent counterpart, Volcana’s twin sister.

Volcana was later fleshed out to be a Fire Goddess with flame-red hair, x-ray vision, and arms sculpted with flames. Her cape flew up with flame detail that rose up to control the volcano (of Volcanica, a proposed toyset that seems to have been reworked into the Crystal Falls). She was emphasized by Mattel to not start fires, which, honestly, is probably why they scrapped the character. He-Man couldn’t use his sword as a sword; a woman made of fire was basically doomed.

Now, though, we’re several decades in and lines made for collecters that are largely in their 30s and 40s can say whatever they want! So she’s canon, even if Amber isn’t. Yes there’s only one mention of her. Amber technically was mentioned in an unproduced episode titled “Amber Waves of Flame”, but as it was unproduced, it’s noncanonical.

Volcano Magus, Sinister Son of Volcana

Lore: Living within a dormant volcano, the Volcano Magus of the German audio plays was the source of most of Catra’s power and all of her evil intent. He supplied her with magic for spells and schemes with which to assail the Crystal Castle, but neither she nor Clawdeen were aware of the dark influence he held over them.

In the MOTUC canon, he’s specified as the son of Volcana, a demigod from the “Region of Volcanoes” who craved the nature magic of the Whispering Woods. When he learned the Twiggets were inextricably linked to that magic, he used his powers to petrify the former Rebels (this was after the Horde's defeat) and kidnap three Twiggets to drain the magic from their souls. Twiggets, for the uninitiated, are like purple tree-elf things. According to MOTUC, Razz is a Twigget, though the ‘real’ name they assigned her doesn’t fit their naming convention. She is purple, I guess.

Kowl, who avoided petrification, read Razz's spellbooks to find a way to save his friends, and learned of an Entrapment Gem that she hid in a shoe, for some reason. He confronted the Volcano Magus, spoke in the ancient tongue of the First Ones, and sucked him into the Gem.

Backstory: Admittedly this stuff is second hand, as I don’t speak German & they only have transcriptions/translations for the He-Man tapes anyway, but if anybody can find me an audio file I will do my best to verify. The MOTUC stuff at least I can confirm 100% because it’s from 2019 & I do speak English, for better or worse.

Oak, the Jackal God

Lore: Oak was the terrible Jackal God worshiped by the denizens of Zhar, an ancient civilization that once existed in a remote, forested region of Eternia. Long ago, Oak was imprisoned within a statue which could be found within the Temple of the Jackal. When Skeletor removed the statue from the temple, Oak broke free of the enchantment which imprisoned him and wreaked havoc on Eternia. Although the Jackal God was immensely powerful, he could be weakened by the elements of nature and was ultimately foiled by a rainstorm conjured by the combined powers of He-Man's sword and the magic of the temple's guardian priest.

Backstory: I have lifted this from a He-Man guide word for word as I cannot for the life of me find a copy of the Brazilian Editora Abril comic he came from, O Templo Do Chacal (1986). The description is like, suspiciously similar to the plot of the He-Man episode The Cat and the Spider, except the Grimalkin was never described as a god. The rest of it--statue, Skeletor, storm defeat--plays out almost the same. True pity I can’t find the original source, but I do trust this guidebook. You may be interested in Ceres from the UK comics--another dog-slash-statue who frankly might as well be a god himself, but as he’s not called one in canon he’s not going on the list.

The Bitter Rose Goddess

Lore: As Man-at-Arms told the legend, “Every day, a woman climbed Rose Mountain to look for her husband to return from the war. Alas, he never came back. Her tears poured from her cheek and entered the ground. One day she disappeared, but where she stood was a single, solitary rose. It’s the only thing that grows on Rose Mountain.”

The Insect People, who lived at the base of Rose Mountain, believed that the Bitter Rose is all that held the mountain together (and when it was picked, they were proved right). After the flower was restored, it transformed into the Bitter Rose Goddess herself, who explained that she had been a prisoner of her love's sorrow, so bitter that she refused to allow anything else to grow on Rose Mountain. She blessed the surrounding area, blanketing the jagged peaks with roses, and disappeared.

Backstory: She’s kind of... barely a god. She showed up in one episode and no other media & has objectively less power than like, every single demon they ever brought in. I almost didn’t put her on this list.

Mask-Ra, Goddess of Masks

Lore: A goddess who created the magical Masks of Power.

Backstory: Mask-Ra was first mentioned in 2019 and like, look, I’m gonna be real. I don’t respect her. She’s an invention of MOTUC (unless they were drawing on this concept art of Maska-Ra, which I doubt bc he was a Man-E-Faces precursor) and they retconned her into having created Catra’s mask, which is kind of redundant given the entire episode Magicats. This mask did not need two bios. There are no other mentions of her in any canon.

Potential other Masks of Power: The Deemos and Tyrella masks from the He-Man episode “Masks of Power”, lizard and canine masks from the mini-comic “Masks of Power”, Lord Masque’s Demon Mask from the He-Man episode “House of Shokoti, Part 1″, and whatever the hell Red Shadow has going on.

Procrustus, Giant Guardian of Magic

Lore: During the creation of the various dimensions (5 in MOTUC canon but demonstratably higher everywhere else), the gods installed the four-armed, immortal giant Procrustus to guard their secrets at the heart of Eternia. There lay the Starseed, from which the entire dimension was created. It still held immeasurable power, and could be used to conquer entire universes. Hordak, in an attempt to access the Starseed, cracked Eternia in two with the Spell of Separation. Though he was (mostly) thwarted, from then on Procrustus was forced to hold the two halves of Eternia together from within, lest the planet break apart and the Starseed be exposed.

Backstory: First appearing in the mini-comic “The Magic Stealer!”, Procrustus is a lot more tangible than most gods. We know where he is, at all times, and he seems confined to one size. His powers appear to be largely physical, as he had to burrow out of the ground to investigate in the mini-comic instead of teleporting or like, magicking the dirt away. This was his only appearance until MOTUC released a figure for him in 2012. He also showed up in the Subternia map the next year, holding Eternia together.

Standor, Cosmic Creator of Power

Lore: “Before time began, the great Gods of the multiverse convened in the Hall of Power to create all that was and all that will ever be. Head architect of this great task was Standor. A cosmic being of unlimited imagination, Standor helped lead his fellow deities by fueling their energies with raw creative force.”

Backstory: Released for Comikaze 2013 to celebrate the partnership of Mattel and Pow! Entertainment, Standor is literally just Stan Lee But a God. The prototype was called Standar--idk why they changed it, but I think it’s because it’s too easy to confuse with “Standard”. They made a bio for his sunglasses. I don’t want to talk about it.

Bash-Or, Slain Mystic God-Beast

Lore: Very little is known of Bash-Or, the Ram. His last remnant was sealed within the Ram Stone by the ancient sorceror kings of Zalesia, imbuing it with his divine power to overcome any barrier, magical or otherwise.

Backstory: Bash-Or was revealed in the bio for the Ram Stone, September of 2020, but his spirit (previously referred to as ‘the Spirit of the Ram Stone’) was twice utilized by Skeletor in the MYP cartoon, to great effect, before the stone was destroyed.

#she-ra #spop #motu #he-man #clare shares notes #edited to actually include the gd graph

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mybrothershands · 3 years

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MBH/Dumpling Crossover

featuring @diddlesanddoodles lovely characters and edited by @thundering-sussurus

"No," Cairo said blatantly before Ka had a chance.

Farris eyed Cairo with a deadpan expression.

“Luckily, we ain’t so desperate a condition as to be needin’ yer services,” Farris replied, but there was a single vein along his temple that pulsed in repressed irritation. His eyes moved back up to Ka and he asked, “Ye always let that one talk fer ye?”

The man clamped his hand over Cairo's mouth. A lump had formed in Ka's throat, and he swallowed. "Ah... I, that is." He took a deep breath and steadied himself. Something about the man made him anxious, and he could not help but shuffle in place a bit. "No, I thank you very much for... for letting me work."

He glanced over at the men working the enormous pumpkins. It was so odd to see so many halfling giants in one place. They were a far cry from being human, and yet their weathered hands seemed small and delicate as they worked. Somehow they had cultivated larger foodstuffs, and Ka found himself a bit jealous. They did not look as lumbering or stupid as he must. There were so few foods that were to-scale for his kind, and yet these people seemed to have every luxury and more, even if some of the animals were a bit... unorthodox.

He quickly looked away, realizing he must have been staring. Ka's eyes moved to Nenani, still sitting comfortably in Farris's arm. It was then he realized this must be the man who watched her while she was sick. The giant cocked his head ever so slightly. Maybe there was more to this man.

Ka picked his head up, meeting the little giant's eyes for the first time. They were a piercing pale green, and he felt as if they might bore right through him. He cleared his throat, trying not to look away. "Is there anything I can do in the meantime? Anything at all. Decorations hung, moving tables..." he cringed before offering the next suggestion, thinking of what he might be asked to do to those poor birds, "...unloading the wagon?"

Farris did not miss the heavy reluctance in his voice.

“I know a tenderfoot when I see one. So stop lookin’ like a panicked scullery maid,” Farris admonished.

Scullery maid? Still, Ka nodded at the instructions, more than happy to listen in silence. "Yessir, thank you," he said when Farris was done, then eyed Avery. He was not sure how he felt about being called a beanpole, but, in any case, he seemed to have gotten over his shock well enough. Past that, he did not seem as hard as Farris. None of them did.

Cairo, however, was getting testy at constantly having his mouth shut by giant fingers. "You're gonna suffocate me," the human grumbled when he was finally free. His companion ignored him and listened for instructions.

“Avery and Bart will handle the birds. Yer with Saen on pumpkin duty. They need broken down, cut up, and fried so my bakers can get them into the pies and into the ovens for luncheon service.” He turned around to call out towards the black-haired cook sitting among the piles of pumpkins. “Avery. Come and start in on these birds. I want the first batches roastin’ within the hour.”

Avery stood, looking utterly relieved to be taken off pumpkin duty, and marched towards them. His step faltered, however, as he got his first real look at Ka. But he squared his shoulders and continued towards the cart, trying to play off his momentary hesitation.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he said, glancing him up and down as he fished two of the birds from the back of the cart. He held one under each of his burly arms. “Who’s the bean pole?”

“Ka’s helpin’ out today,” Farris replied dismissively. “Now shut yer gob and get to it. The spice mixture is in the green jar on the counter. Should be enough fer all of ‘em, so don’t be too heavy handed.” He turned towards Ka and jerked his head in a clear indication for him to follow. “We move fast down here, understand? Ye have a question? Ask it. And I ain’t no babysitter either. Only child down here is the lil’un.”

Farris led him over to the fire pit. A table had been placed nearby, and on it sat a few knives, a long handled wooden spoon, and two large crocks: one of butter and the other of honey. Farris eyed the knives and then said, “I’ll get a more size appropriate knife fer ye. In the meantime, sit down and Yale will be back with yer breakfast.”

"Thank you," Ka said as he approached the pit. He nodded politely to the one called Saen and noticed how the little giant's hair stuck up in the front. At first glance, he looked a bit puckish, though that was yet to be determined. Ka found and palmed the pumpkin Avery had left behind. There was a patch of the orange skin the skin already shaved off, he noted. Taking a moment to study it, Ka sat down near the table and took one of the small knives, despite Farris's offer.

After a few attempts to work with the little knife that felt like a kid's toy in his hand, he seemed to remember something. "Oh, I actually have... my own." He pulled on the strap of his satchel, then flipped the top open, producing a six-foot blade that was definitely not a kitchen knife. It was blunted and had several nicks in it, however, apparently unloved. He reached out, arm easily closing the distance, and held it into the flames for a moment to burn off any filth.

"I am Ka, by the way," he said, eyeing the man who looked about his age. "He told me your name, but... I'm afraid I've already forgotten."

Putting down his own knife, Saen extended a welcoming hand to Ka.

“I’m Saen,” replied the cook with a wide friendly smile. Ka at first reached out with his left hand to shake, but then realized his error and switched the pumpkin to his other hand and shook with his right. It did not feel too small, as he thought it might have. It was more like shaking a boy's hand, though calloused and firm.

"Saen," he repeated.

“And don’t mind Avery none," Sean continued. "He’s got all the tact of a mule and as much sense as a rusted penny.”

“I heard that!” Avery called as he came back up the steps from having delivered the first two birds to Bart.

“Maybe ye were meant to!” Saen retorted with a cheeky grin. Avery threw up a rude gesture as he went to the cart to collect two more birds. Saen just laughed and said, “Ye should be grateful this one came to rescue from prep work. Yer right shit at peeling.”

Yale appeared then at the top of the steps with the two meat pies, bundled up in a clean tea towel. He stopped to talk to Farris for a moment before continuing on towards Ka and Saen.

Nenani pulled at the kitchen master’s shirt to ask a question. “Fine. Just keep outta the way now and don’t be a pest, eh?” Farris warned before crouching down and releasing Nenani onto the ground.

“I won’t,” she promised and scampered along after Yale. Farris eyed the courtyard and the workers within before turning and taking the steps down into the kitchen.

Careful not to touch the still-hot blade, Ka made quick work of the gourd, peeling the skin away in long, thin ribbons. Both Yale and Saen watched with no small amount of awe at how Ka made such fast work of the gourd. With a wide grin, Saen turned to Yale. “Can we keep him?”

The pumpkin fit like a large potato in his hand, so the task really was not that difficult for him. Still, he bit back a smile and pretended to be too focused on his work to notice. Then two sets of feet approached, one big and one small, and he picked up his head. "Hello again," he greeted Yale. Finding Nenani on the ground, he thought it might be safe to release Cairo and set the pumpkin on the table. He double-tapped his chest as a warning before fishing the man out of his pocket.

Cairo grumbled a bit, but stretched as soon as his feet were on the grass. "Stiff as a board," he groaned, then reached his hand in his britches and scratched his rear.

Meanwhile, Nenani walked up to Cairo but stopped a few feet short. She bounced on her heels, a little bashful and said, “Hello.”

The man frowned, eyeing her with a squint. He looked the girl up and down, then squinted further. He turned his head and spit on the ground. "Can I help you?" he growled.

There weren’t many humans in the castle, and Nenani had wanted to ask the man questions about his life with Ka. But any questions she had died on her tongue as she stared down at the floor where Cairo had spit. She made a face and, looking back up, met his gaze with a disapproving frown. “That’s gross.”

He raised a brow. "So it is," Cairo said, a bit bored. He jerked his thumb back towards the kitchen where Farris had disappeared. "That one there, little man, he take care of you?"

She nodded. “Yeah. Everyone in the kitchen kind of does, but Farris is my actual guardian. See?” She reached into the top of her dress to pull out her marker. It was nothing but a simple leather strap with a struck metal medallion, and she held it up to him, showing off the side with Farris’s seal.

Cairo furrowed his brow and gave a simple grunt. "Collared you, then," he said. Still, it was rare he met one who did not fear the giants. Even Ka she had been kind to. Crossing his arms, he studied the piece, but did not move to touch. "Why?"

“It’s not a collar,” Nenani insisted with a mild glare. “It’s supposed to let everyone know I’m allowed to be here and to leave me alone. Because if you don’t have a marker, you might be trespassing. And not everyone here likes humans and might try to hurt you.”

The man regarded her for a moment. That did not bode well for him; then again, he had not planned to leave Ka's side, either. He thought for a moment longer, then spoke slowly. "We don't have anything like that," Cairo began, "but Ka does have a pocket that lets the regular folk know he's safe."

He had detested the idea of the marker at first, but on second thought, it might be quite nice to silently say that one was protected by a giant. A bit of a trophy in his mind. He then looked back and realized something else. "With protection comes..." He paused, trying to think of the correct word, and then realized what a stupid thought he had had. "I don't think it would be proper for me to wear one. It's my job to keep him safe, not the other way around."

She regarded him with confusion at first, looking back towards Ka and all his towering height and substantial bulk and then back at the much smaller Cairo. She smiled knowingly. “That’s what Jae says about Barnaby and Maevis. That Barnaby is more Maevis’s guardian than he is his.” She tucked her marker back inside her dress. “But don’t be worried about not having a marker of your own. Farris’s permission is good enough. No one will bother you while you’re here in the kitchens. I’ve only had one giant try and hurt me since I came here. I threw a pepperseed in his eye.”

Cairo raised his brow. "Good girl," he lauded. "And what did little man do when he found out?"

“Bart told Keral first,” she replied.

“What’s this about Keral?” Yale asked, having heard only the tail end of their conversation. He had moved to the fire pit and the large flat pan that had been placed atop a thin metal rack of sorts to hold it above the fire.

“I was telling him about Thrist trying to eat me that one time,” Nenani answered matter of factly.

Yale growled darkly at that. “Yeah, that swine-faced fucker ain’t gonna be tryin’ that again. He’s lucky Farris wasn’t around or he’d have had his arse fer curtains, and Keral would be down a scout.”

Cairo made an awkward snort before wiping his nose on his shirt. Eat her? What kind of hellish nightmare was this place?

"Do I put the pieces in there?" Ka asked, indicating the pan. He had finished skinning the pumpkin and rolled up his sleeves before uncorking the gourd. In truth, he had heard the conversation as well, but he was already squeamish at the idea and did not think he wanted to hear the rest of the tale.

"Down a scout?" Cairo asked, oblivious to Ka's discomfort. "You mean he ain't dead?"

“Aye, but first slice ‘em thin-like. They’ll cook faster that way,” Saen told Ka. He looked to Yale. “Lil’ man has a point though. Never did figure out how Keral managed to keep Thrist’s neck out of a noose.”

Yale shrugged, lips pinched into a frown. “I suppose bein’ the king’s favorite has it’s perks. So long he keeps him far away from the lass, I’m content with whatever hell trek Keral sent him on.”

Saen turned to Cairo. “Ye see, Thrist is a blue coat ranger. Ye might ‘a spotted one or two of ‘em here and abouts, but mostly they’re out in the provinces and the wilds, keepin’ an eye on things and reportin’ back to Keral who then reports to the King. He’s the captain of the Blue Rangers. Back when the Blood King was still alive, they were a bunch of murdering thugs. But since Keral took over, he’s been tryin’ to bring the order back to its original purpose.”

“He’s also Farris’s brother,” Nenani added.

"Brother," Ka muttered under his breath. There was a wafer-thin sneer on his face that faded as he shook his head. He hollowed out the pumpkin with a finger, holding the orange guts in his palm for a moment before holding them out. "You keep the seeds?" he spoke up in a kinder tone.

"And Farris would have wrent him limb from limb," Cairo said slowly, watching Yale's face as he said it.

“I’m sure he has his reasons, but I can’t say I wouldn’t have paid good coin to see that,” Yale replied. He sighed in resignation. “But Keral isn’t a bad sort, even if his men are pieces of walking rubbish. Probably the most cheerful man in the whole castle. Until ye make him mad and then he looks a lot more like Farris.”

“And his whiskey is top shelf. Got a bottle of it fer my nameday a few years back. But careful," Saen added. He gave Cairo a wink. "It’s got one hell of a kick.”

Ka adjusted his seat, still unsure what to do with the pumpkin guts in his hand. Finding no better place to put them, he tossed the glob into the fire and went to slicing up the pumpkin on the table.

Meanwhile, Cairo put a hand to his heart. "What! You take me for a drunkard? No, no, no no no," he waved both hands before himself. "Lost my uncle to the devil juice," he declared.

“Apologies,” Saen replied, shamefaced, and he raised his hands to placate the human. “Meant no offense. Sorry fer yer loss there, lad.”

Ka promptly knocked the man over with a knuckle. "Dirty liar."

"Hey!" he spat, brushing the dirt from his person as he got up.

The giant turned to meet Sean's eyes. "He likes mead. Had to carry him home half the time-- hey! Don't kick me! Old fart."

"You didn't let me finish," the human growled, glaring up at him. "I had him right where I wanted, too."

"Saen is nice, you shouldn't do that to him," Ka said plainly. This earned him another kick in the shin.

Saen recovered from his surprise quickly, looking to Yale with a haughty grin. “Ye hear that, Yale? I’m nice.”

Yale had grabbed up some of the sliced pumpkins and tossed them onto the pan with a knob of butter, and they began to sizzle. He waved the wooden spoon at his fellow and retorted, “Only ‘cause he’s never seen ye lose at the pebble toss. Or yer tantrum afterwards.”

“Ah, I don’t lose that often,” Saen replied, suddenly defensive.

“Well, the three shillings I won off ye last month say otherwise,” Yale replied as he turned his attention back to the frying pumpkin. He abruptly turned back to Saen as a memory suddenly resurfaced. “And then there was the time ye bit Kol.

“Oi. He stole my sausage,” Saen replied with a frown. “Fair punishment fer the crime.”

“Well, I think you’re nice,” Nenani said and Saen turned to smile at her.

“Why thank you,” he said.

“Even if you bite people,” she added with a grin.

Saen’s smile drooped and he held his arms out in exasperation. “It was one time, and I was drunk off my arse!”

Had Ka been wrong? Maybe his first impression had been right. They were not being rude, at least not to him, but it reminded him how little he knew. He was just an outsider, after all, so decided to keep his mouth shut for a little while. Since Yale had deemed his sliced pumpkin worthy of the frying pan, he regarded the small pile of gourds and wondered just how many pies they planned on making. He shrugged, taking another pumpkin and tossed end over end a up a couple times before setting to peeling again.

Cairo, however, had no such convictions. "You," he said, hammering a finger at Saen, "I like you." He crossed the lawn towards him, much to Ka's dismay. "So what's this about the king's whiskey," he paused, recollecting, "and what the ripe devil is a nameday, for that matter?"

Saen began slicing up more pumpkins but paused at Cairo’s question, regarding the human with a look of horror.

“Ye mean ye don’t have namedays where yer from?” Saen asked. “To celebrate ye bein’ a year older?”

The human squinted up at him. "It's a birth-day, you fool. Because it was the day you were...?" He shrugged. "Unless you hatched from an egg. I suppose you do look a bit like a lizard, then."

Saen slid his knife through the flesh of the pumpkin and paused, staring off into space as he realized the silly mistake he had made. “Oh. Birthdays...huh. Yeah, those.”

Off to the side, Nenani laughed. Saen sent a brief glare her way, but it left soon as it came and he moved on. “As fer the whiskey, it’s ain’t the king’s. Keral’s a bit famous fer his whiskey round here. He doles it out to those he deems worthy of it every once in a while. Farris may still have a bottle. Ask ‘im nice like and he may give ye a nip.”

“Best wait till end of day though,” Yale advised in good humor. “We ain’t bluffin’ about it havin’ a right kick. And we don’t need ya wanderin’ ‘round only fer ye to lose yer footin’ and fall arse end into the fire.”

Saen snickered. “Yeah, just ask Jae."

"Mmh," Cairo grumbled, waving his hand. "Never been one to ask nicely myself." He knocked twice on Saen's shin.

At the motion, Ka watched the man with round eyes and slowly shook his head back and forth. Still, Cairo did not seem to care, and repeated the motion.

Saen looked down curiously and titled his head. “May I be of assistance?”

By now, Ka was visibly shaking his head, openly nervous. The human either did not notice or simply ignored him. "Up, I said," Cairo laughed. He eyed the orange stains on his hand. "Wipe your grubby hands off first, mind you. I don't want to smell like rotten fruit in an hour."

“Oh. Alright then,” said the cook, pleasantly surprised. He sat his knife down and roughly wiped his hands onto his apron before bending down. There was a moment’s hesitation as Saen tried to think of the best way of picking the man up. Unlike Nenani, Cairo was an adult and therefore taller and with considerably more heft to him. In the end, he used the same technique he employed with the little girl, which was to shove his hands under the human’s arms and lift him up. Perhaps it was simply that he was more accustomed to the weight of a small human child, but Saen was a little taken aback by just how much heavier Cairo was. Though really he shouldn’t have been. He did his best to not let it show on his face as he lifted the man onto a clean spot on the table.

Cairo winced a bit as the giant pinched the old wound in his ribs. Once set down, he let out a puff of air and brushed himself off. "Boy you got little girly hands, don't you?"

"Cairo..." Ka warned, though this time did not bother to look up. His stomach rumbled again, and it was then he remembered the pies Yale had brought. He hurried to finish skinning the pumpkin.

Saen tucked his hands under his armpits and pouted. “...don’t have girly hands...”

From the fire pit, Yale started to laugh.

The human took a bow. "My apologies, Princess. Would you like me to kiss your ring?"

With a sudden devilish smirk, Saen grabbed a piece of sliced pumpkin and pushed his ring finger through it and then shoved it in Cairo’s face. “Go on then.”

Yale turned to Ka. “Sorry about that one. I’d say he’s normally not like this...but I’d be lying.”

The big man shrugged. "Don't apologise to me yet. Mine may do worse," he said as he chopped up the pumpkin on the table. Just as he said it, Cairo pricked up as though offended.

"What!" he growled, scrunching up his face at the slimy vegetable.

The human's mood seemed to change then, and he put on a mask of haughtiness. "Your grace, I was only jesting! I wouldn't dare touch thine ring. Tis too great an honor for a lowlife such as myself... but if you insist--" He then took not the ring finger, but Saen's middle finger, and bowed before it. Cairo then proceeded to stick his tongue out and lick the knuckle.

“Oi now!” Saen snapped loudly, pulling back his hand in disgust, but the force of the movement caused his pumpkin ring to fly off of his hand and up into the air. And when it came back down again, it landed on top of Ka’s head.

The little man roared with laughter, while his giant friend was left with a sticky bit of pumpkin in his hair. Ka sat there a moment, eyes distant and unmoving. At last he drew a deep breath, let it out slow, and deadpanned, "Your highness, I think you have lost your ring."

Nenani covered her mouth with her hands to stifle a giggle, looking back and forth between them. Saen drew a breath to make a retort when a bellow sounded from the archway.

“I’M HEARIN’ A LOT ‘A TALKIN’ AND NOT A LOT ‘A WORKIN!”

Both Saen and Yale, more than accustomed to Farris’s hollering, turned their focus to their work. Nenani, still growing use to the sheer volume her guardian voice could achieve, was startled badly and jumped.

Ka gasped and hunched his shoulders at the sound. "Sorry!" he squeaked, though he knew the man could not hear him. He took the pumpkin from his head and pitched it into the fire. It had been a fairly solid piece, but his hair was still sticky in places from the stuff. Cairo, he noticed, had not budged other than to turn in the direction of the voice and square his shoulders as if to fight.

The giant then caught sight of Nenani still pulling herself together. "Are you okay, little one?" Ka murmured.

She blinked up at him and then nodded with a small sheepish smile. “Yeah. I’m still getting used to how loud Farris gets sometimes.”

“Bit of a wonder we ain’t all deaf,” Yale murmured to Ka with a suppressed grin.

“Do you ever yell like that?” Nenani asked Ka. The question came more from a curiosity about Ka’s height. Farris was one of the taller giants she had met and Ka towered over him. If Ka were to get as angry, she wondered if he was that loud.

Ka glanced from Nenani to Yale and then back again. He shook his head as he reached for one of the pies. He hesitated, remembering Farris's call, and chose to grab another pumpkin instead. "I haven't raised my voice since I was a boy," he admitted. "People get nervous when I use my normal voice, so I try to be quiet."

"Y'ain't that bad," Cairo growled.

Yale gave Ka a strange look. “Nervous? Why would they be nervous? I agree with yer brother. That’s plain stupid. What’s other people’s business if yer voice is a tad loud?” Yale gave Ka an appraising look. “Fer as tall as ye are, ye don’t seem to care fer the attention.”

“I always thought it would be really inconvenient to be really tall,” Nenani mused. She had found a small rock on the ground and had picked it up and was idly passing it between her hands.

Saen laughed and replied, “We could say the same fer ya small folk being so short. Ye get winded just climbin’ the damn stairs.”

Ka shrugged at Yale's question, but found the words strengthened him a bit. Even if the man was a giant in his own respect, it felt good to hear some encouragement on the subject. "You are... much more confident than I," he decided.

The giant shook his head as he peeled. His voice got quiet and apprehensive. "I've scared people before. Humans, mostly. I don't like it." He forced a laugh. "Maybe I worry too much."

Cairo picked his teeth. Upon finding something, he pulled it out on his fingernail, then stuck it back in his mouth. "Sure do," he grumbled. He turned to Sean and curled his lip. "I don't have to climb your stairs, midgey boy."

Saen grinned and poked the human’s middle. “Maybe ye should start,” he quipped.

Near the pit, Yale was considering Ka with a little more of a critical eye. He took the sight of him in and his words and pieced more of the puzzle together. He understood easily the apprehension that came with interacting with humans, though he and the rest of the staff and Farris all made jokes and snarky remarks about popping them into stews and pies. It was all a balm against the festering wounds left behind by the war. It was easy to joke to and make light of it all. It was their morbid way to reconcile with the very real evils they had done. That Farris had done for them. To save them. But Yale held himself just as responsible as Farris. No matter what the kitchen master told him. He too remembered those faces...

He looked to Nenani then, who was watching them with an open curiosity. Innocent. She knew only bits and pieces, and even then, he wasn’t sure she knew anything of the whole truth. If she did, she never let on.

He took the slices of cooked pumpkin and dropped them into a shallow earthenware dish. Staring at the other slices still sizzling along the hot metal pan, he spoke to Ka.

“Didn’t use to be. Confident I mean,” Yale admitted to him. “When I was younger. Durin’ the war and all. Scared a lot of humans in my life. And I'm talkin' real terror. Wasn’t my choice to do it, but I did.”

Ka was silent for a moment, trying to think over Cairo's angry exchange with Saen. The humans here had been foolish enough to wage war with the giants? Behind that, what had they done to deserve their wrath? He shook his head and decided to ignore it. "I... haven't had to kill anyone, fortunately. There was that one, erm, accident with a dragon rider, but..." Ka shrugged as he rolled the pumpkin over in his palm, unsure how to finish his sentence.

He then glanced over to where Nenani stood and recalled how protective Yale had been of her. If so much had happened to him, how had he recovered so well? He himself had been a mess the time he had hurt Cairo. Then again... "I suppose there are bad humans just as there are bad giants," he finished.

Yale nodded with grim understanding at Ka’s words. There was no need for him to say anything else as his meaning was plain as well as his regret. It only served to confirm in Yale’s mind the kind of man he was and it brought forth a feeling of smug contentment. He wasn’t always as good a judge of character as Farris, but he wasn’t bad either. He felt pride in knowing his initial assessment of Ka had been right.

#crossover with doobdles

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bamfdaddio · 3 years

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X-Men Abridged: 1969

The X-Men, those dino-obsessed mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 52 - 63) - written by Arnold Drake, Roy Thomas, Linda Fite and Don Heck, drawn by Werner Roth, Barry Smith, Tom Palmer and Neal Adams.

step aside, Wall-E, these Sentinels have nothing on your range of emotions (X-Men 59)

When we last left our X-Men, they were smack-dab in the middle of a big, convoluted plot! Let me refresh your memory:

The X-Men had to beat a hasty retreat;

Polaris had joined her father Magneto

Magneto was injured;

Iceman had quit the team because he still had faith in Polaris;

Eric the Red appeared, making overtures towards Magneto.

And the whirlwind continues! The X-Men (sans Iceman and Cyclops) sneak back into Magneto’s base! Eric the Red reveals himself to be Cyclops! They set a trap for Mesmero! Which is sprung by the wayward Iceman! But he has pertinent information! Lorna is not Magneto’s daughter, she’s just an orphan! Bobby (hilariously) has the papers to prove it!

magneto has now fucked up the relationships he has with all of his children before any of them knew he was their father. mad props (X-Men 52)

Lorna breathes a sigh or relief, glad that she doesn’t have to be evil anymore. (Because obviously, evil is hereditary. And even though she keeps sensing everyone’s ‘evil vibrations’, she stayed with Magneto out of her own volition. SO.) Without Polaris’ power to back them up, Magneto and Mesmero flee.

After this, the X-Men come back to live at the mansion again. No muss, no fuss. Roy Thomas, who’s returning to the book, wastes very little time undoing some stupid decisions made last year. In fact, 1969 has a pretty strong showing, with plotlines flowing almost naturally into one another, a bigger cast and the introduction of one of my favourite villains. It’s pretty palatable.

The one snag is a superfluous issue where the X-Men fight Blastaar and Jean kills someone. (Never comes up again, don’t sweat it.) I wouldn’t even mention it, were it not for this moment where Jean uses some super duper mind machine:

does this remind you of... anything? no? just me then (X-Men 53)

So, anyway, remember Scott’s beloved brother Alex?

i love that jean is all smiles about scotts terrible and all-encompassing ability to repress everything (X-Men 54)

I can sort of understand why that whole third Summers brother was such a huge secret for so long, considering Alex was not even kept a mystery and it still took SIX YEARS for him to be revealed.

Alex is barely introduced before he gets the old plot-bat to the face, getting mixed up in a fight when some pharaoh claims all mutants are pharaohs, being children of the Sun? Apparently, all of them are powered by cosmic rays i.e. the sunlight. Alex is kidnapped, as is Cyclops, and just as Cyclops ponders how happy he is that Alex is not a mutant despite him having the X-Gene, he is attacked by the pharaoh and Alex saves his brother using newly minted energy powers! Oh, the irony.

when I say that I want Alex to wear his old costume, I obviously mean this sexy Egyptian skirt-ensemble (X-Men 55)

Alex and the pharaoh are apparently two sides of the same coin, being charged by the same cosmic rays: when one waxes, the other wanes. The pharaoh locks Alex away in a tomb, cutting him off from those sweet, sweet sunbeams and taking all the power for himself. Like a Power Ranger villain, he grows in size and becomes… the Living Monolith! The X-Men take him down while Alex accidentally blows up the Living Monolith’s temple.

Alex, afraid of his own power, flees into the desert and is apprehended by… the Sentinels?! Surprise, bitch! Lorna is also abducted by them out of her New York apartment. Their next victim is Iceman, and they deliver him to… Larry Trask! (Son of.)

My favorite thing about Sentinels is that, despite the fact that they are objectively huge, they are still able to sneak up on people. Apparently, these murderous periwinkle toaster ovens are so quiet, you only notice when they rip open a roof to get at you. (X-Men 59)

Larry Trask hates mutants because:

They killed his father;

He’s a racist.

Determined not to repeat the sins of his father, Larry has a helmet with which he can use to take direct control of the sentinels, so hopefully they won’t rise up and rebel this time. Somewhere, Asimov is rolling his eyes.

On live television, Larry Trask baits Iceman into attacking him, trying to smear him and mutantkind in general. In the mean time, the Sentinels strike everywhere, taking Unus, Angel, Banshee, the Living Monolith… Even Wanda and Pietro. It´s a literal who´s who of sixties mutandom! The only exempt ones are the Changeling and Magneto, the latter only because he’s been a robot for a while now. Mesmero is just as shocked by this unnecessary retcon as we are.

Just as Larry orders the Sentinels to kill every mutant in the compound (including Bobby, Lorna and Alex), a family heirloom is ripped off his neck. Apparently, this medallion was some kind of protection: the late Bolivar Trask knew little Larry was a mutant and tried to hide this fact from the Sentinels.

The Sentinels turn on Larry faster than you can say “Is being betrayed by AI a hereditary trait?” The X-Men intervene and, after unleashing the might of Havok, they end up in a debate with the Sentinels, turning their own logic against them:

Protecting humans is more important than killing mutants.

So, to protect humanity, they must destroy the cause of mutation.

The Sentinels promptly launch themselves into the sun. Neat.

On a side note, the relationship between Jean and Scott is shelved for now? It seems like they’re dating, but also not? It’s such weird storytelling, especially because their annoying will they or won’t they has gotten so much focus in the past and the relationship between Lorna and Bobby is crystal clear:

Scott. Jean. Is it really going to take Chris Claremont to DTR you two? Fuck’s sake (X-Men 60)

Because Havok’s powers still threaten to overwhelm him, the X-Men contact a former colleague of Professor X… Professor Lykos.

Let me tell you about the sheer, amazing sixties wonder that is Professor Lykos. Originally, Thomas envisioned him as a vampire, but the Comics Code forbade vampires. So, instead, Lykos ends up a human who was bitten by a magical pterodactyl at a young age and who can only survive by draining other people’s life force. He can also hypnotize people into doing his bidding.

Yes.

Lykos suspects mutants might be the cure to his strange, strange ailment, and begins to drain Alex. But to his (and our) sheer delight, he turns into a pterodactyl!

I just love this damn idiot so much (X-Men 60)

Be like Sauron! Choose evil!

The X-Men barely figure in this plot. Ordinarily, I’d be bothered by the fact that these three issues are more about the villain than the heroes, but given that it’s Sauron, I’ll let it slide.

See, Sauron’s tale is a tragic one. Not only is he a weird pterovampire, he is also in love with a sweet girl whose father forbids him from seeing Dr. Lykos, because he is… poor! Gasp! (Those billionaires, not even a doctor is good enough for their daughters.) Sauron, slightly corrupted by his dino-side, realize that it’s a lot easier to just kill Tanya’s father than to impress him by robbing banks for cash.

When he attacks the man and sees the reaction of his star-crossed lover, Lykos realizes Sauron is far too much in control. Sauron is too evil! Lykos/Sauron promptly flees to a cold, distant region, the same place where he got bitten all those years ago, figuring he’ll stay in isolation and starve himself of the human energy he needs. But, just as he is utterly ravenously out of his mind, Tanya finds him! In order to protect her, Sauron sacrifices himself by throwing himself off the mountain… straight into the Savage Land..

The X-Men (sans Angel) follow him into the Savage Land. (It’s unclear why? To retrieve his corpse? Annoyingly, in the next arc, Sauron is not brought up again.) There, they run into Ka-Zar, who’s embroiled in a fight with… prehistoric mutants?

Angel, meanwhile, follows the X-Men in their footsteps, only to end up on the other side of the fight, with a strange white-haired man named the Creator who claims to be the mentor of these Savage Land mutates. Angel pledges him his wings, gets a snazzy new suit and flies off to fight the X-Men. Only then does the man secretly reveal himself: he’s… Magneto! (The true one, not a robot.) And he wishes to rule the savage land!

Angel and the other X-Men briefly fight, but soon the situation is sorted out and the X-Men go and confront the Creator. Magneto, who is way too hammy to ever hide his true nature for too long, reveals himself and the fact that he created these… mutates, including the creepy Brainchild. (He’ll become important later.) The X-Men defeat Magneto and he seemingly dies again.

Without Magneto there, the mutates revert to just being regular cave(wo)men:

I love that Ka-Zar, WHO HAILS FROM THE SAVAGE LAND HIMSELF, has no scruples othering his own kin. (X-Men 63)

The comic accidentally ends on a sad note: the X-Men confessing that they’d give up on their powers in a heartbeat. Not to nitpick, but while I buy that coming from Beast and Cyclops, this issue is less clear-cut when it comes to Jean and Bobby, who have a much better handle on their powers and, more importantly, present as human. It could potentially be an interesting issue to explore, but instead, it is swept under the rug, presenting the team (once again) as a boring but unified front. It remains one of my critiques of this era: the X-Men barely get fleshed out as individuals, other than the broadest of strokes (Leader; Rich Boy; Joker; Smart Guy; Girl). Pity.

Didn’t you take Art History? One thing that has definitely improved is the overall art-style. Artists experiment with panels and splash pages, stepping out of the traditional 2 by 3-grid that Kirby loved so much. It makes the stories more dynamic and, because the writers get more issues to tell their stories, the artists get more space to do their art.

I mean, check this ish out:

Fuck yeah, mental powers represent. (X-Men 57)

Ugliest Costume: None! I really like Havok’s black bodysuit with white stripes and the Sentinels design looks so much less dorkier than before. A+.

Best new character: Sauron, duh. Does he team-up with Dr. Doom at some point? That would be some ham-to-ham combat.

Most audacious retcon: There’s a second Summers brother?

What to read: 57 to 59, which is the plotline dealing with the much improved Sentinels. 60 and 61 if you have a soft spot for vampiric pterodactyls.

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turmac · 3 years

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if by the time i walk my ass down to ahkten-ka and that place is still blocked after visiting everywhere else and talking to everyone im going to lose my marbles.

edit: holy shit i had to go through 4 guides to realize i had to follow the hermit’s directions specifically or else the 2nd medallion be there to dig up aND THEN i go there jfc

#neoquest 2 #my post #I HAVE DRAGGED MINE ASS OVER EVERY GRAIN OF SAND #IF IT'S STILL BLOCKED IDK WHAT ILL DO #THIS GAME IS A TEST OF PATIENCE #IDK WHAT I'D DO WITHOUT THE GUIDES

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miu-paras · 4 years

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Lvl. 7 ⋮ Julia // Chapter 1

Stage One: Denial ♪ - Hans Zimmer / No Time for Caution (Part 1) | Arca / Time (Part 2)

TW: addiction, trauma, depression, anxiety, death CW: blood, gore, violent images

PART 1

I imagine the sky tore itself asunder that day.

Perhaps I only felt this at the time because it so closely resembled my own circumstance—in the metaphorical sense, at least. Kalar… my beautiful and brilliant tsanagar. Mind of my mind. Losing that connection… it was like losing a limb. Like being ripped in two with no hope of recovery or return.

It was the final day of Urrali. The Process had breached past the barriers of Essa, and rained terror on its people.

And I was—for the first time in my existence—completely and utterly alone.

The deed was done. Kalar pulled me from their neck, stringing me along a thin, silver chain before placing my medallion form in the palm of their successor. I could see nothing, and heard quite little with fingers clasped tightly around me. Only every other word murmured managed to make its way through. The words were instructions. Guidance. A warning.

“Lead them… Find it… You will… Another life…”

Another life…

Rael, typically so collected, responded to their ima’s calm demands with heightened volume and growing hysteria. Doubts. Fears. Things Rael had lived their long life without—or, at the very least, suppressed—now rushing towards the surface, cracking through their usually composed exterior. They were trained to always remain stalwart, to always be prepared no matter the circumstance.

But certain annihilation… it was far out of even their depths.

Regardless, Kalar still manages to soothe the panicked young warrior. I could practically hear the smile on their face as the velvety words passed their lips, cushioning the anxiety that threatened to tear their child apart. So calm, and yet so assured, even as they looked death in the face… I knew—more than anything—that I’d at least miss the sound of their voice.

“Ellar Kalmonerri.”

The shaky grip tightens around my form. There are no more words left to exchange. No goodbyes or protests. But the sadness still ensnared their heart. And as I was whisked away, resting in the palm of another, I felt that last thread of attachment begin to slip from my grasp… until it broke entirely.

Kalar was gone now. And I would never feel them close to me again.

It was unlike me to be so overwhelmed with… emotions—at least, that’s what I reasoned they were at the time. I wanted to cry out. To scream. To protest. To defy my programming entirely. But my cold, metal shell would not allow me. There was no mental bond through which to express myself. I was left alone in this hollow, cavernous tomb I called a body. And now, as I rested in the palm of one desperate for survival, the sound of heavy panting and boots stomping against ornately carved marble floors in a sprint, my only hope was that a new purpose would await me on the other side of this madness.

There needs to be… there had to be a reason why Kalar let me go, rather than die by their side like all tsanista are destined to do with their tsanagar. Kalar was never one for conventions, sure, but… they were never someone to act without intention either.

We neared the end of our sprint; the sound of pounding footfalls and slashing through whatever forces or obstacles blocking our way quickly ceased, replaced now with more voices. One of them rang through more clearly. It was lighter, sweeter, more familiar than the rest.

“I can’t find my ima… I can’t find them… Rael, my love, please, if we can just go back and look once more—”

“There is no going back,” Rael’s words cut through Iannis’ with the sharpness of a blade. Their lover fell silent, to which the Minister’s child responded with a sigh. Obviously, they meant no harm, but their words carried truth. There was no going back now.

“I need to get you out of here. I need you to be safe. That’s… that’s all that matters now.”

A second hand clasped over my metal form, with the other squeezing back in response. A small gesture of comfort, I presumed. There was a moment of stillness between the two of them. Even without my senses, I could still feel the tension building, and it was wrought with sadness, stress, grief. Only minimally pacified by love.

It wasn’t long until the moment is disrupted by the deafening sound of twisted, tearing metal—loud enough to reverberate the walls around us and tremble the very floors they walked on. The two hands that held me squeezed harder, and soon enough we were sprinting once again. Faster than before, as Rael utilized their blinking to gain some distance, but the noises still grew in volume. Whatever was approaching them—whatever beast had devasted their Empire, their home—only grew closer.

The racket soon filled with voices, an entire crowd of them. Many shouted. Many sobbed. Some pleaded with Rael. Some expressed their frustration—more like anger, or fear—towards the newest leader of their people.

But Rael remained focused on another task: getting Iannis to safety first. It was selfish, sure. But putting their loved ones first—even before the fate of the world—was something Rael would never stop doing.

“I will not leave without you!” Iannis protested, gripping the hand in which I was held with all their might. Rael gripped back. They were reluctant to let go, to relinquish that hand in fear that they’d never hold it again.

“I’m right behind you,” They assured, ending it with a kiss. Possibly their last, but I’m certain Rael repressed such a thought.

Lifting me in their palm, my sight finally returned to me as fingers unfurled from around the orb in my center. Staring down at me was Rael, their gaze wrought with worry, but quickly erased and replaced with assurance as they fitted me around their neck.

“Everyone!” Rael barked, commanding the attention of the large hall of survivors, “We will board the escape pods and take Route 85-5W0382. To Terra.” The young Minister raised her finger and pointed towards the expansive window which wrapped around the entire room, out towards the blackened sky, so blanketed in darkness that not a single star could be seen with the naked eye. Not even the light of Ulteria's six moons could peer its way through. An omen of the nothingness that awaited them.

Rael, still doing their best to remain unshaken in the eyes of their people, held their head high, looking back towards the many eyes that gazed up at them, awaiting their guidance. Their leadership. A role Rael once felt all too unprepared for was finally here, thrust upon them in a moment of crisis. And they had no choice but to accept their new fate.

“Ellar vilmussenda kas xiushini!” Rael shouted into the crowd.

“ELLAR KALMONERRI!” The Camerian people shouted back.

The commotion picked up once more as the survivors prepared for evacuation. Around the crowded room, there were lines being formed at each station, escape pods being prepared and deployed into the inky darkness ahead. Iannis stood close by, hand gripping Rael’s tightly as the fear and nerves began to truly set it. Rael squeezes back before leading them towards the front of a line, steering through the crowd of distressed civilians. There are disgruntled rants and angry shouts as Rael pushes them to the front, but the young Minister ignores it. Instead, they are fully focused on Iannis—their safety, their comfort, and getting them free from this new hell.

“I don’t want to leave without you…” Iannis protested, the sadness read clearly in their eyes and written all over their face. They tugged Rael closer, bringing the Minister’s palm up to rest on their cheek. Rael sighed softly in response, leaning inward until their foreheads touched.

“I’m right behind you,” they assured once more, “We’ll be out of this soon. And then… who knows? Maybe we’ll retire in Nuva. Remember that?” Rael reminded—a callback to an old conversation the two had, one about running off together. One Kalar and I had spied on long ago.

Iannis smiled at that, nodding once before releasing their lover. “Yes. I remember.”

There is a glint of want in both of their eyes—a need to embrace, to kiss, before departing for an indeterminate amount of time. But that moment is instead interrupted by the piercing screech of the approaching threat, which now surrounded them in legions. Many covered their ears, wailing from the pain of the cacophonous sound that rang throughout the hall. Even Rael, who was more upset by being forced to push their lover away and towards the prepared ship than they were the painful ringing in their ears.

“GO!”

There is sorrow in Iannis’ eyes, but they are quick to maneuver themselves inside, power up the pod, and eject themselves into the darkened skies of their old home.

Rael’s eyes stay locked with theirs, never breaking that gaze until the door completely shut and Iannis was gone.

There was no time to lament. Not with so many others that needed saving. That needed their guidance.

They instead turned their attention to the frightened mob, not focusing on the quelling pain in their heart, nor the looming threat that now surrounded them in large tendrils that eclipsed their view of the sky. What was most important now was their escape. Their survival.

But that would never come to pass.

The onyx tendrils, now astounding in their size, crashed their way through the takeoff strip and into the massive hall. Gasps and screeches could be heard all around as many began running from the beast. Some were quick to slice away at the flailing ligaments, only for twice as many to grow back in its place. Others were unlucky in their escape and fell prey to its infectious touch, the inky black veins pressing through their pale skin, their screech halting to a pained, soft wail as they fell unconscious to the floor, their corrupted tsanistas following them into darkness.

Now Rael had the impossible task of both fighting this monster and taming a panicked crowd. It was only a few moments ago that such a responsibility didn’t fall on their shoulders. And now it was as if the weight of the world came crashing down.

Fighting turned out to be a fruitless endeavor, as the tendrils would grow back and fight with more ferocity than it did before. Those who fought alongside her fought too cautiously, in fear of the death that awaited them should it come in contact with their skin.

And then there were those that had escaped, their pods buzzing through the air away from the madness on land. Rael and I could see them more clearly as the tendrils pulled away from the windows, following the others through the newly formed entrance. They could see Iannis’ pod. Rael had memorized every aspect about it, from the colors down to the patterns etched along the sides. Iannis was the furthest out—the closest to safety. The closest to being free from the chaos.

That is, until their pod fell.

It was the oddest thing. It was as if the machine itself just… died. Stopped working right there in the sky. No rhyme or reason for it, nothing that could’ve been predicted—a room full of technopaths would have known if the ship was at risk of failure. But there were no such signs. And still, Iannis began freefalling from the sky, down into the mess of wiry limbs and hellish monsters. Ones that all but consumed and tore apart their pod as they crash landed into the heap.

Iannis was gone.

Rael was still. Very still. Practically catatonic. The reaction was unsettling, but expected given they’d just watch their lover die before their eyes. But I could tell something was off—something was worse. It was as if something snapped inside of Rael at that moment. As if they’d just watch the world—their entire world—implode before them in an instant. And nothing, not a single solitary fucking thing, mattered anymore.

Something was off.

Rael leapt away from the ceiling, where they remained perched and away from the black fronds, and blinked towards the expansive window. There was no reason to go for the ships—they were all destroyed, along with their exit. There was no reason for them to go back for their people—they were dead weight; they’d merely slow them down. All Rael needed to do—all Rael wanted to do—was run. Get away from the madness. The trauma. The anguish. The guilt. The loss that now weighed so heavily on them.

Rael needed to run.

Run.

There was protest from behind. The people of Camer—Rael’s people—both angered and bewildered by their actions. The way the young Minister slammed their fist against the thick glass, and when that didn’t work formed their tsanista into a large maul. Bang after bang after bang, until that glass cracked.

They kept going. Any attempt to pull them away was met with violent resistance. They kept going, until that crack grew larger, branching out further along the transparent surface. Until it cracked more and more and more, until… it opened.

The dry, cool air against Rael’s face was cathartic. But it was not enough to deter them. Nor were the cry of their people from behind.

Run.

As soon as the glass shattered away, Rael—face covered in tears and sweat and blood—leapt through, down into the abyss that awaited them.

They could see it… Iannis’ smiling face, waiting for them. Calling out to them. They wept more at the thought.

They could see Aesir. Sula. Kalar and Umvis.

They could see their family, waiting for them.

And with a few more tears shed, Rael shut their eyes, and clutched me with all their might. Their tsanista forms around us, and instead of falling into the darkness below, we skyrocketed up. Out into the open sky. Away from the darkness. Away from their love.

Away from their people. The people they were meant to protect. Soon to be devoured by that very darkness.

Maybe some would survive, I thought to myself. Maybe some would find their way through that human-sized hole in the thick glass and fight their way free. Maybe they wouldn’t be consumed by the onyx beast whose tendrils now flooded the entire room, shattering whatever was left of that window.

But all I could see from behind us, as we escaped with nothing but our lives and the tears falling from Rael’s wide eyes, was death.

I don’t think Rael remembers any of this. There was no mention of it again once we made it to Earth. Not remorse, nor anger or grief. Not even acceptance. Even indifference I could take.

But there was nothing. Nothing at all. As if repressed. Buried. Forgotten.

I don’t think Rael remembers any of this…

I think I’d like to forget it too.

PART 2

February 12th, 2020. 02:30 PM.

I spent several years in therapy as a kid. A part of my prescribed treatment for ADHD and anxiety. I always thought that after it ended things would go back to normal. That I’d be fine. That I’d never have to sit across the room from another shrink again.

And yet here I was, in another pristine, white-walled room, rapidly shaking my leg up and down as I focused more on the sound of the ticking clock than the words coming out of my therapist’s mouth. It wasn’t like it was anything I hadn’t heard before. Another potential update on my medication (increasing my dosage for antidepressants, unsurprisingly), alongside another long monologue on how to deal with “stressful situations…”

What classified as “stressful” in her mind, I wonder? Could it even mildly compare to anything I’d been through over the past two years?

Let’s go down the list…

Vehement harassment, both online and off. Multiple stalkers, one of which assaulted me in my home, and another who shot my girlfriend. Abducted twice. Drugged. Several near-death experiences. Traumatizing “dreams” so vivid it feels like I’m actually living through them. And of course, we can’t forget, stumbling across the remains of my dead relatives after narrowly escaping the entities that destroyed my mother’s entire race. I still have yet to truly unpack the effect that had on my psyche.

Stressful situations…

And this isn’t including the mess I was tangled in now. Most Wanted in Ulteria’s biggest metropolis. Manufacturing weapons for an underground vigilante group. Trying to save the life of my mom’s kidnapped ex-lover, who’s fate was still up in the air. Picking up the pieces of my fumbled career. All while dealing with this newfound pressure to act like everything is fine and none of this is going on…

Not to mention, I made a man explode a couple of months ago…

There’s only so much one person can take. And that threshold is lower for someone who’s mental health is already on the brink.

I was at my limit…

And yet, I still felt like I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t express just how overwhelmed and helpless I was feeling. Even here, a place that was meant precisely for all of that. I was just… frozen. Because who would understand? Who could I burden with any of this? And did I want to burden them? Just to be met with the same disregard? The same spiel about how everyone’s gone through hardships, but they only make us “stronger” people in the end, and that I’m “strong” just for surviving?

…What’s the point of survival if there’s hardly any of me left?

“…Takajima-san? Did you hear me?”

I blinked several times, my head shooting up to face the therapist after breaking out of my trance.

How long had I spaced out for…?

“Mm… I’m sorry…?”

Dr. Ogiwara only blinked twice at me in response, letting out a long sigh as she adjusted her glasses, though her soft smile never left her face. It was almost… disquieting. Her calmness. How at ease she could be even when my life was in disarray. Even when I was being the shittiest patient imaginable, not taking my treatment seriously at all.

“Takajima-san… you need to know that this?” She gestured between herself and me, “Only works if you want it to.”

She uncrossed her legs, resting her journal on her lap as she straightened. Her expression was serious suddenly. Intense. Her gaze was fixated on my own. I responded with tension, eyebrows knitting together slightly as the shaking in my leg suddenly ceased, unable to break eye contact with her.

“You’re constantly late or cancelling sessions. And when you’re here you don’t listen. You hardly ever speak either. Never disclosing too much, omitting details, avoiding difficult conversations… how can I help if you refuse to be open?”

I winced, finally breaking away from her locked-on gaze. The bounce in my leg returned once more, and I bit my lip, staring at my lap being unsure of how to answer. The accusation wasn’t wrong. Far from it. But I wasn’t ready to admit that.

“These sessions aren’t meant to turn into long lectures, Miu. We need to develop healthy coping mechanisms for you. That sort of progress only comes from work, and that can’t be one-sided. I believe in your ability to get better, but you need to believe that too.”

I nodded once, still wordless in my responses. Still focusing on the sound of the ticking clock. I didn’t need to see her face to feel the disappointment radiating off of her and in my direction.

“Our time is up for today. Would you like to meet the same time next week?”

“…Raincheck.” I murmured softly, finally looking up to meet her eyes. Another disappointed look coupled with a single nod. Wordlessly, I gathered my things, giving a polite bow and muttering a quick “thanks” before hurrying out of the room and back onto the street.

I don’t know if I’m capable of changing. I want to be—I desperately want to be. But I’ve had my guard up for so long that breaking them down feels near impossible. It’s hard. It’s scary. It’s…

It’s easier to bury things… or at least, it was easier.

I don’t know if that’s true anymore.

March 1st, 2020. 03:00 AM.

I like distractions. Meaningless, in-the-moment distractions. The more temporarily gratifying, the better. But with how much chaos has entered my life as of recent, I hardly have time for any. No parties. Fewer dates. Hardly any sleep, with me sneaking away in the dead of night to do… this. This work I’ve sworn myself to. Laboring over workbenches cluttered with deconstructed gadgets and half-finished bionics—one of which we were finalizing today.

We had yet another installation to proceed with.

“Xh’ilussen nhxini!” The burly Nuvassi man spat at Vhiska—the young workshop hand—as she continued adjusting the tourniquet around his arm. She matched his scowl with one of her own before securing the device around his bulky bicep and returning to monitoring the readings panning across the tablet screen—an array of numbers and Talurian script as the last of the prosthetic arm’s programming was being installed.

In comparison to V, my approach was far gentler. I offered a soft smile once I noticed the young engineer was preoccupied, inquiring whether the harness was too tight in whatever broken Nuvassi Talurian I knew and adjusting it accordingly. My conversational skills weren’t top tier, but I could still piece together sentences, and I understood enough that small talk didn’t come too hard once he began carrying the conversation. Despite his more taciturn demeanor upon our first meeting, the older gentleman—Vhando, he said his name was—had a surprising amount of information to share. He was originally from the Southern Protectorates. His parents worked as mail carriers, running an independent business that primarily serviced lower income families. Most courier companies were self-reliant at the time. That is, until the Xhinith Corporation began buying out those businesses. One by one, they gathered under a single umbrella. A single conglomerate. Nearly the entire industry in the Protectorates had been monopolized. But his parents didn’t comply.

“They died in a fire…” he said in his rough dialect, sighing as he massaged his stubbled beard, “In our warehouse. A spontaneous one, or so we thought. They… they was thinkin’ they could save the cargo, but… it was too widespread.” He paused, shaking his head. “To this day, I think it’s the most foolish thing they ever done… valuin’ packages over their own lives. And leaving a boy…”

He stopped there, and I frowned. “You don’t have to keep goi—”

“I moved to Gan’em after that,” he continued, “Started working as a scrapper, peelin’ n’ sellin’ whatever parts I could. Until I ran into your bunch of… damn huviarr’xi.” He snickered, his disposition suddenly jovial as he gave a sly wink in Sai’s direction, who replied with a role of his eyes. I mimicked Sai, coupled with a shake of my head as I flickered a glance between the two of them. I continued to draw a band of short, black lines along Vhando’s bicep, not bothering to interrupt their bickering.

It was interesting seeing not just Sai, but the entire team in such a relaxed state. Things were always so serious up until now, with working on gathering supplies, securing connections, and fortifying our little hideout. But now that things were coming together, the team seemed more… at ease. Like they felt safe—right where they wanted to be. I envied that. But at least what I was doing would serve a purpose. I was doing good, helping to fight against oppression. And I was saving the life of someone important to my mother.

At least… I hope.

“Looks like we’re ready to go.” Vhiska turned to me and nodded once, the mechanical prosthetic in her hands. I finished up drawing the dotted lines on Vhando’s arm and walked away from him with a smile, rolling my eyes as the banter between him and Sai continued.

“Everything… looks good…” My eyes scanned over the code on the screen and the cybernetic arm, checking for any discrepancies. I knew there would be none—I designed it after all—but I was stalling. The next part was… gruesome. Installation always was. Usually, I could stomach it until the end, but today… the arm. I don’t know what it is about it, but the very thought caused my stomach to churn violently. With every passing second, I could feel the small beads of sweat form on my already pale face.

{ I don’t think I can do this… }

[ How come? ]

{ I just can’t. }

[ Then express so. I don’t understand why this upsets you so deeply… you’ve done such an operation a dozen times by now. Literally—I have kept count. ]

{ Yeah, but… just not today. I— }

“Miu!” V interjected; an impatient expression was worn on her face. “Is it done? Vhando’s got a locale to hit tomorrow, we gotta have this done—”

“I’m fine.” I responded quickly—a little too quickly. “It’s done. Let’s, um… let’s get this over with.”

[ Are you sure? ]

{ Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just a cold or something, I guess. I can get through this. }

[ Your heart rate and temperature are abnormally high… but with your Camerian biology, human illnesses should not— ]

{ I said I’m fine. } I cut them off. And that was the end of it.

Sai prepared the saw. Vhando extended his arm along the rest while Vhiska prepared the anesthetic, but as soon as the needle came close to his skin, Vhando’s hand quickly reached out to catch V’s wrist, stopping her in her tracks. She looked up at him, confused and shocked.

“Waste of time.” He shook his head. “I’m a big boy. Ion’ need it.”

We all exchanged looks of horror—all except for Sai, who seemed unbelievably calm given the circumstances.

“Maybe you should reconsider,” I piped up, “This isn’t like… being shot or stabbed, this is—”

“I know what it is,” Vhando retorted, his face turned stony. The serious expression is broken slowly, as one side of his lips twitched into a small smirk. “I don’t need it.”

I gulped. Hard. Vhiska still glared at him, worry written all over her face. Sai, still unphased, began lining up the saw.

My hands were shaking now. Every inch of me would be if I hadn’t been trying my absolute hardest to not move an inch.

[ Perhaps you shouldn’t do this… ]

{ I… I… }

I can do this… I can do this…

I can’t.

Like I said. Installation was always gruesome.

As soon as the saw’s loud humming began to fill the room, Sai pulled down with all his might. It was a clean cut, quick and without complication. The only sound filling the room after was Vhando’s cries—a mixture of painful wailing and unsettling laughter—all while Vhiska rushed to hold him down.

It was my turn now. All I needed to do was walk up and attach the new limb… but I couldn’t. I was frozen in place, clutching the arm in my hands, the gears and apparatuses whirring and whizzing as my powers took over, disrupting the device. The shaking that started in my hands now coursed through every muscle of my body. And my breathing, it quickened faster than my heartbeat did.

I was losing control, little by little. Like a disrupted machine, coding and mechanism all jumbled and fried. But all I could do was stare at that arm on the floor, violet blood pooling out of the severed end and spreading across the reflective metal floor.

Vhando’s arm.

No… Pixul’s arm.

Or is it Vhando’s… Pixul’s…

It was hard to differentiate reality from the nightmare inside my head at that moment. I couldn’t hear Vhiska shouting at me, I couldn’t feel Sai shaking me, or Red’s low vibration against my chest. I couldn’t see Vhando lying unconscious on that exam table. I couldn’t see anything… except that arm.

Pixul’s arm. I was convinced now.

And Pixul lying right next to it, clutching the stab wound in her stomach, blood coating the floors.

There was blood dripping on her head. Slowly. Drip, drip, drip… but from where?

I lifted my head even more slowly, trembling as my eyes looked towards the ceiling. Right at the source of that dripping liquid. And my eyes widened at the sight.

It was Iannis, hanging hog-tied from their ankles. Beaten bloody and slashed open. Mutilated, eviscerated, but alive. And trembling more than I was.

“Save me…” they whimpered. “Save… me…”

Now I couldn’t breathe at all.

Suddenly, the prosthetic is wrenched away from my grasp. The vision blurs, then slowly disappears. No more Iannis. No more Pixul. Her arm was gone too, and in its place was Vhando’s. all I could see now was Vhiska rushing to attach the device. All I could feel was Sai’s hands gripping me as he carried me away from the scene and out the room, the sliding door quick the shut behind us.

I’m rushed up the stairs and out of the hideout. The sidewalks were empty—unsurprising at this time of night. The cool air offered some small comfort against my now pale, clammy skin.

“Miu. Breathe,” Sai urged, still maintaining his calm demeanor from before. I was always in awe of just how collected he was. Even through things like this—the illegal trading, the limb chopping, the blood, the violent excursions, the theft, the murder… everything. Through everything, he remained so… serene. I envied him for it.

Eventually my quickened breaths had steadied to a normal rate, no longer in a state of panic. Embarrassed, I pulled away from him, crossing my arms and averting my gaze downward.

“Thanks…” I mumbled, still refusing to meet his gaze. He didn’t respond, however. He only watched in silence. Just for a moment, though.

“Earth treats,” He broke the tension, and I shot my head up to look at him with a quirked brow.

“You promised me some—what’s it called… ice cream?”

I sighed, uncrossing my arms and softening my expression. A small smile returned my face as I finally caught on. He was giving me just what I needed.

Distractions.

March 1st, 2020. 03:44 AM.

There weren’t many ice cream shoppes open at this time of night. Luckily, 7/11 was open 24 hours a day.

I went in alone, grabbing a few pints of ice cream from the freezer—chocolate, cookies n’ crème, matcha, and classic vanilla. There was no way of knowing what Sai’s favorite flavor might be—they don’t really have ice cream where he’s from, after all—so having a few options to work from would be both beneficial for the future, and interesting to observe his reaction when trying the cold dessert for the first time.

I brought the ice cream out to the rooftop of the conbini, being sure that no one was watching before flying up to meet with Sai. I kept the cookies n’ crème for myself, and slid the other three flavors his way. Sitting down, we clinked spoons and dug in.

He hated the matcha. The chocolate he didn’t mind, but I could tell it wasn’t his favorite. I started on my own serving, watching carefully while he tried the final pint of vanilla.

And he adored it.

“Really?!” I eyed him with a shocked expression, “Of all the choices… Well, you can never go wrong with plain old vanilla, I guess.” I shook my head and giggled.

“Is this not a popular choice or something?” He raised a brow towards me, a puzzled look painted on his face.

“Well… it’s just not the most exciting choice, y’know? Vanilla’s nice, but… not the most fun flavor. It’s too plain! Boring! Dull!”

He huffed a dry laugh, shoveling another large scoop into his mouth. “There’s nothing dull about this.” He raised another spoonful towards me in toast before wolfing it down. All I could do was role my eyes and smile.

I hadn’t finished much of my ice cream, only digging into it with my spoon, staring at the specs of chocolate swirled inside. It’s funny; sweets tend to be the thing that always cheered me up, that pulled me away from whatever negative thoughts or feelings ran through my head. I owed that in part to Nami, whose almost addictive love for ice cream I always found endearing. But now was different, and maybe it was because I wasn’t with her. Maybe it was because, instead, Sai was here. Sai. A living representation of all the shit I’ve gotten myself into the past few months. And now my “happy place” wasn’t as effective. Those thoughts still clouded my mind, and I had no way of flushing them out. Eventually, I was gonna drown in them.

“You’re quiet.” Sai broke me away from my thoughts. I shot up to look at him, mouth opening and shutting when the words failed to come out.

“I…umm…” I fell silent again, averting my gaze when I realized I didn’t have an answer. Or at least, I didn’t want to answer. Not honestly, anyway.

“I’m just, y’know… it’s been a long day? Lots of… data proofing and coding and fine tuning and… Just a lot to deal with, yeah? I’m just tired. I’ll be fine. We all have to be eventually.” I finally wolfed down a scoop of ice cream, then looked up to smile at him. His expression was unchanged.

“Uh huh.” He stated, unconvinced. “And what happened down there, that was just you being tired?”

My smile faded, and I stared down at my unfinished ice cream again. My hands were trembling again, thinking about the vision I saw. Was it a vision? A hallucination? How long could I expect my mind to play tricks on me like that…

“It was…” I tried my best to answer, gripping the pint more tightly in hopes it would somehow cease my shaking. It didn’t.

“I don’t know what it was,” I answered finally with a loud sigh, “I think maybe I’m just stressed? With everything going on, I’m just… not used to it? But I don’t know why it happened. Every other installation went fine, but this one… I wasn’t ready for it. How was I supposed to know he wouldn’t take the anesthetic—which we should have given him anyway, by the way. And to see all the blood, and the way her arm lob off so easily like that—”

“Her?” He raised a brow to that, and I fell silent. Stiff. Not realizing my mistake until it was too late.

“U-uhh, his. His arm. Sorry…”

I stared long and hard into that ice cream now. But I could hear Sai’s heavy sigh. I could hear him shuffling as he moved closer to me, resting a hand on my shoulder while his second pair of arms held his ice cream in place.

“I get it. Okay? I’m… I’m not a stranger to that happening. It’s happened to me too.”

There wasn’t anything I could say. I just remained there, unmoving. Listening.

“I just say this because… I know our line of work is… unique. There aren’t a lot of people who understand what we go through. But you’re not alone in this. And I won’t force you to talk about it or confront whatever you’re feeling now. But if you need anything—anything at all… just ask. I got your back.”

We sat there in silence for some time as I let his words sink in. I wanted to say something—anything. To pour out all of my thoughts and feelings. My anxieties, my fears. I wanted to vent about all the things that have been tormenting me. But just like in the shrink’s office, the words never came. Faltering as soon as they formed in my mind.

Instead, I shifted the topic away from me.

“Is Vhando gonna be okay?” I asked softly.

“He should be, yes… you don’t have to worry about that,” Sai smiled, butting his shoulder with mine, “It takes a lot more than a missing arm to kill us. Talurian blood, and all…”

A lot more than a missing arm… a lot more…

“Do you… do you think Pixul’s still alive?” I asked, my voice cracking as I turned to face him. His smile was gone now, replaced with the serious expression I was used to.

“I… I don’t know. Things have been… silent,” he responded after a while, “Either way, we shouldn’t concern ourselves with it now—”

“Shouldn’t concern ourselves?!” My voice raised as I shifted my entire body to face him, knocking my pint of ice cream on its side as I sat it down roughly. “We literally stabbed her in the back and then chopped her arm off! We destroyed her entire club! Her whole operation! Her entire way of life. And to top it all off, robbed her of her weapons vault right after!! If I were her, I’d want our heads on a fucking stake! We can’t afford to ‘not concern ourselves’ when it’s our lives on the line!”

“Miu—” His voice was quiet, but stern—very stern. “Calm. Down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down… I will NOT calm down!” I shot back, “I will NOT—”

“MIU!” He raised his voice finally, glaring right at me as he cut me off. “Lower you damn voice! Now listen… We’ve been doing this for months now. If Pixul was gonna make a move, she would’ve done so by now. So she’s either dead or she doesn’t care. Besides, our HQ is secured and untraceable thanks to Vhiska, and on top of that I’m pretty sure we’ve got the numbers now to take on whatever threat may come our way. She wouldn’t even have the resources to come find us considering how much she’s lost. Either way, it isn’t our problem anymore.”

I still didn’t believe him, but I wasn’t in the mood for arguing either—hell, I was hardly in the mood for ice cream anymore. I didn’t have the energy for it. I was just so… so…

Suddenly the tears began streaming down my face, and the sob I’d been choking back finally broke free. Frantically, I started wiping away tears as they fell, only for more to emerge and replace them. I hid my tear-soaked face in my palms as Sai looked on, surprised by my sudden unraveling.

“I’m so tired…” I whimpered; my voice muffled by the hands that still hid my messy face. “I’m so fucking exhausted… aren’t you tired of all this??”

Sai said nothing this time. Only watched as I continued in my sudden fit.

I was able to collect myself again after a while, face wet with tears and puffy from crying. We both sat in complete silence for what felt like an eternity, the quiet only ever broken by the occasional sniffle.

So much for distractions.

I don’t’ remember the last time I felt genuinely at peace with everything in my life. It seems as though recent years have been a series of small glints of happiness, later to be marred with chaotic situations I could’ve never imagined myself in, that I somehow always stumbled into despite never trying to.

Stressful situations.

But what’s the point in wallowing in it now, right? I was here. It was my choices that got me here, and now I had to deal with it. But that was easier said than done, and my old methods of “dealing with” situations out of my control were to simply not deal with them. To fill my day and my head with whatever I found gratifying in the moment. And that wasn’t working anymore. Not my hobbies, or my job, or my friends… As much as I loved all those things, none of it was helping. Because deep down, I was still hiding this double life from everyone. Holding all my feelings too close to the chest. And now here I was, vying desperately for peace of mind, but it was too late for that now. I was still racked with anxiety more severe than I’ve felt in years with no sign of release.

I just wanted a break from it all. But there seemed to be none in sight.

Unless…

No… no. It was stupid. Reckless. Perhaps the most reckless thought to ever cross my head.

And yet… it couldn’t be any more stupid than the decisions I’ve made in the past. And more than anything, I just wanted… I wanted to feel like myself again. Like Miu again. Or at least, the Miu everyone loves. The Miu that’s easier for me to love.

I just needed a little more help with that.

Sai exhaled softly, his breath forming a fleeting, misty cloud in the cold night air. “We should, um… we should head back soon—”

“Can you do something for me?” I interrupted with the inquiry, shifting so that my whole body faced him now, eyes locked with his and filled with intent.

He raised a brow at me, “Sure… yeah? If it’s within my capabilities I can try…”

“You… you said you’d do anything for me right? Anything at all? I just need to ask?”

His eyes narrowed at me, “What are you getting at here?”

My jaw clenched, the courage to ask for this was still building up within me. I stared down at my hands. Did I really want to do this? Was it worth it? Was there not a better way?

I’m sure there was… but it wouldn’t be the easier way.

And that’s what made it worth it.

“I need…” I lift my head, looking Sai straight in his eye with all the confidence I could muster in that moment.

“I need you to get me something.”

August 25th, 2020. 7:15 AM.

My brother had a gambling addiction years ago. I remember vividly the effect it had on him. The compulsive spending, the borrowed money that somehow vanishing overnight, the constant disappearing acts (which never got better once he stepped into his… new profession). But more than anything, I remember how it warped his perception of the world around him. How it changed him, from his morals to the way we treated his family. The way he treated me.

But at the same time, I understand what got him there, what pushed him into making that choice. It was the thrill of it, a danger you felt somehow in control of. That’s the high-risk-high-reward aspect of it, right? No matter how bad it was, no matter how further down that rabbit hole he fell, he couldn’t let go.

It was easy, I imagine, to get addicted to that sort of euphoria.

But that wasn’t me. No… this wasn’t an over-indulgence by any means. This was self-medicating, which was completely different from what Mitsuo went through. This would be different. I would be different.

Though Sai wasn’t convinced of that initially.

“Mhiconnia?! Really, Miu?!” he protested, “Do you REALLY think that’s the best idea? Like, do you understand what that shit does?? It doesn’t help you the way you’re thinking it will! It will fuck you up.”

“That’s only if you use a lot,” I countered, keeping my voice as calm as I could manage, “Maybe if I just have a little bit at a time—and only when I absolutely need it, of course—I can… I dunno… get back to myself? I won’t, like, abuse it or anything, I promise! I just… I need something to help. Something faster than… what I’m doing now. Whatever that is...”

He shook his head, huffing a dry laugh as he crossed both pairs of arms and began pacing back and forth on the roof. I’d never seen him this angry before. All I could think of while watching him was the face of my third-grade teacher, the time it turned bright red with anger after my friend and I conspired to free our class pet Randy the Turtle. I thought I was doing the right thing in that moment, but the reaction of my superiors, and the indignation on my own mother’s face, painted a different picture; it didn’t match with my reasoning, my reality. And much like my mother, Sai wasn’t having any of it.

But I still tried to reason. Because like with Randy the Turtle, I still felt that I was right. That there was no harm in what I was doing. That my reasoning made sense.

The argument ended there, however. Sai leapt from rooftop to rooftop until disappearing into the night, leaving me with a pile of melted ice cream.

I didn’t see him for a week after that. I spent an entire week regretting everything I said, reevaluating my thought process. The self-loathing burrowed itself deep in my psyche the longer I was left to ponder. Had it been a day longer, maybe it would have devoured me. Maybe I would’ve changed my mind completely, realizing the error in my self-destructive ways and fall victim to the depressive episodes and regular therapy visits. Just one day was all it would’ve taken. One more day…

But Sai came sooner. He had a small vial in his hands and look of disappointed buried deep in his eyes.

“Just. A little.” He repeated my words from the other night. All I could do was nod. And that was the end of it.

At least, it would do for the moment.

And holy fuck, did it work better than expected.

The vial was more than enough, actually. I never took more than I needed—not nearly the amount that Pixul dosed me with during our first encounter. A small dab was enough, sometimes worn on the eyelids or the apples of my cheeks in a way that resembled makeup. Just a small amount to get me through the day. A little more for the more stressful days. And some more when the panic attacks return…

And when I ran out, I asked Sai for more.

I was more than back to myself again. I was… more present in a way. More focused. More productive. Friendlier, bubblier, more excitable. I was back to myself again. The Miu everyone loved, and the Miu I loved to be. I could enjoy my life again, which only cemented in my mind that this was exactly what I needed.

And when I ran out, I asked for more. And more. And more…

It was hard to tell if the vials were getting smaller or the amount in each one lesser, because each delivery seemed to go quicker than the last. Frustration set in when the wait for more seemed to lengthen. Even while everything seemed to be looking up for me—from living with my girlfriend, to my career finding resurgence, to even starting my own business—I was still… fixated. Obsessed with maintaining a happiness I thought seemed unattainable without that magical dust. Fear, a deep-seated fear, that my sadness, loathing, and isolation would come creeping back. That it would come and take everything away from me.

I’m not dependent, I would tell myself. I’m not addicted. I’ll be fine even after this…

But was there an 'after’? Would there ever be? And what did that look like exactly?

Best not to dwell…

It’s been months since that talk on the roof. Months of using Storm’s Tears. Months since Sai and I had a conversation that was longer than three words wasn’t about just work. Months since even Red and I had a heart-to-heart, or any sort of conversation, really…

Months since I last talked to my family.

It seems as though, in an effort to get better, to feel like myself again, I’ve only lost even more. I was starting to wonder if all of this was worth it. Not just the drugs, mind you, but everything—Vitriol, Iannis, Kalar… would any of it amount to anything? There’s been no sign of my mom’s ex-lover since Sai and I escaped that night. And beyond that, any memory that seems to resurface through Red feels like more of a riddle than the last. What was I doing anymore? What was I searching for? What was the purpose? What is—

Too much thinking, I thought. I needed some more. Just to pull myself out of the haze.

It was only a little. Spreading it gently across the eyelids with my ring finger, another smear against my lips. I inhaled once. Exhaled. The thoughts flowed out of me like a tidal wave, being replaced with a sea of bliss. Sweet thoughts. Happy thoughts.

I was fine. We’re all fine. We’re figure it out as we go.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

The sound at the door shook me out my musing. I jolted from my seat at the vanity and rushed to the living room. It was odd—Nami was out with dogs today, taking them on walks and running other errands, so I wasn’t expecting her back so soon. And if it was her, she would’ve just walked right in. Unless her hands were full, that is. Or it could be a friend, here on a surprise visit. Either outcome would have made since, would have been expected.

But what I was not expecting was this.

“…Mom?!” I exclaimed while answering the door.

“Yes.” Julia stated coolly, standing like a statue in the doorway, their icy, stoic glare piercing a hole straight through my skull. Immediately, they breezed past me, and I nearly stumbled over as I rushed out of the way.

“You haven’t called home in quite a while. The last we heard from you was when you told us about your move.” They walked around the room, carefully inspecting every angle of the apartment from floor to ceiling. “Nice place. Where’s that lover of yours?”

“U-uhh—out! She’s out right now…” I blinked trying to maintain my composure, though that was hard. What on earth were they doing here? And unannounced like that? My head was spinning, the shock and confusion trying so hard to cut its way through the sanguine state brought about by the psychoactive drug. Under normal circumstances, that bewilderment would’ve taken over, invading every facet of my senses. But right now, the Storm’s Tears wouldn’t allow for that. Instead, I was too focused on how happy I was to see them, and how nice they looked in their dingy, grey trench coat, and how pretty their hair was, and how—

“Huh.” Their voice interjected, cutting off my train of thought. They began moving into the kitchen, and I quickly followed after. “A shame. I would love to meet them. One of these days. When you decide we’re all worth speaking to again.”

I opened my mouth to say something—a rebuttal, an excuse, anything to clear my name—but quickly shut it once I realized I had nothing of value to say. Nothing to defend myself with. I felt bad—horrible, even. But even now, I was unsure what sort of reaction the truth would garner me. Would it be the genuine concern any mother would have for their self-destructive child, or would it be pure, unbridled fury?

I’m almost certain it’s the last one. It’d be the one I’d deserve anyway.

Their fingers glided across the granite countertops before stopping, leaning against the surface as they eyed me keenly. What were they looking for, I wonder? The truth in my eyes? The guilt? A sign a weakness? It was all there, albeit hidden under and wave of euphoria, but could they still sense it?

The tension… you could cut it with a knife.

Time to lighten the mood, maybe…?

“Stick around and maybe you might!” I laughed—maybe a little too loud—then shrugged playfully as I stumbled into one of the kitchen island chairs. “It’s good that you’re here then, right?! The universe is… is bringing us together! Obaachan always used to say things happen for a reason. Aaand, uhhhhh, this…! Is the reason! You’re welcome.”

Excellent job, I could imagine Red shooting out the sarcasm-drenched words in my head. And they would’ve been more than fair in doing so.

I cupped my face with my hands and stared back into those intense eyes, and the second I did something… shifted. There was a clear change in their demeanor—a darkness that entered their expression. My ima’s eyes began to narrow as they examined me further, the tensing of their jaw ceasing altogether.

Now I was starting to feel unnerved.

“Are you drunk?”

“Wh-what?” I stammered, caught off guard by the question. “N-no… no! No, I am not.”

They straightened and began slowly circling around the island, closing the gap between us. My smile disappeared, and once they were close enough, they leaned in, keeping their voice low. Though that didn’t stop their words from cutting like steel.

“Are you high, Cira?”

I gulped. Loudly.

I hated that name. Not for the reason many would think, mind you—it wasn’t archaic-sounding or harsh on the ears or anything like that. It was a nice name. I hated it because my mother only ever used that name when I was in trouble—deep trouble. It was an easy way of telling just exactly where I landed on the scale of pissing-them-the-fuck-off.

And right now, that scale was reading pretty damn high.

“U-uh, I, uhh…” I floundered with my words again, unable to answer—not truthfully, anyway. But I was definitely in no position to lie convincingly either.

“N-nooo…noooooo. I don’t, umm, do that. Like, ever.” I lied, letting out a soft, nervous laugh as I awkwardly crossed my arms. They remained still, and unconvinced.

“Are you high, Cira?” They asked again.

They could see me folding into myself as they pressed further, and this time they didn’t give me a chance to answer. Instead, they grabbed my face roughly with one hand, the iciness in their piercing white eyes growing colder, threatening to freeze me in place. I was struck with the realization that they knew exactly what was going on.

Then, the words I never wanted to hear left their lips.

“What the fuck is on your face?”

I was petrified. It was as if I lost all ability to formulate a single word or line of thought in that moment.

Too late to lie now…

My mother released my face, rushing out of the kitchen and towards the bathroom. I quickly hopped from my seat and scurried behind my ima, only to find them rummaging through the drawers and pill cabinet. They took out several pill bottles—most vitamins, some painkillers, prescribed medication—and began tossing them at me.

“Where is it? Huh? Can’t be these—” They put a few bottles back, while the thrown ones would hit either me or the wall as they clamored to the floor. I stood there silently, just watching them.

“Where is it? Speak up.” Their voice rose in volume, their tone getting harsher with each passing word, mixing English with their native Camerata. “You didn’t have a problem lying before, why so quiet now?”

I’d wince in response to the shouting, fumbling with my fingers behind my back. It was as if I’d lost all ability to communicate properly. Incapable of neither explanation nor defense. All I could do was take it—stand there as they marched from room to room, rummaging through drawers and beneath blankets and pillows and an onslaught of dog toys in silent fury.

They eventually did find it, however. All without my help. As they entered the bedroom, their eyes landed on it: the small vial of shimmering dust, sitting on the vanity amidst a number of lipsticks and eyeliner pens. Stupid of me to leave it out, and in such an obvious place too. They lifted it with their hands, slowly twisting it between their fingers. Then they turned to me.

“Where the fuck did you get this?”

I couldn’t stay silent anymore, not while they were this angry. And I couldn’t lie either. Not now. Because as I watched my mother hold that vial in their hands, I realized that it wasn’t just the drugs that were the problem. No… it was where they came from. The place of origin. The source of their—no, our—trauma.

“S-so, umm…” I mumbled, fumbling with my words, “A-a lot happened recently that I haven’t been… fully honest about—”

“No shit.” They cut me off again, “Where. Did you. Get. This?”

They approached me, holding the Storm’s Tears to my face. I stood there trembling slightly, trying to avoid eye contact as the guilt washed over me in waves. They knew the answer to their question. They just wanted to hear me say it.

“…I went to Nuva—but wait, hear me out okay? There’s more to it than you think—”

“How?!” They shouted, and my eyes shot immediately to the ground, hands clasped together and held against my chest. It was so easy for them to make me feel so small. Like a child hanging their head as their parent scolds them.

“I, umm… I met a girl… named Pixul.” I looked up to meet their glare now, “She was, uhh… from Gan’em, I think she said? She was able to find me through my… last venture to… you know…”

They pulled away and sighed heavily, pacing angrily back and forth. They were trying to make sense of all of this, how their own child had come so close in contact to the one place they’ve spent their life running from. And how that same child is now somehow involved in the worst it has to offer.

If only they knew just how bad it really was…

I squirmed where I stood, the words leaving me as a squeak. “L-look, I’m—”

“Do you know how much danger you’ve put yourself in? How much danger we could ALL be in? Because of you?!” They were shaking with anger as the shouted, the force of their words strong enough to back me against the wall. “And now this… you’re hooked onto this shit? Do you know what this does? It will fucking kill you! That’s if the cretins that gave you this don’t kill you first!”

They were right… everything they were saying… was right.

Sadness, shame, and anger churned within me like a dark cloud as their words cut into me. It swelled and boiled and spilled over the surface in a caustic brew. And all I could do—all I could muster—was uncontrollable weeping.

The tears fell instantly, overflowing as loud sobbing began to fill the room. I sunk to the floor, back still against the wall as I hid my dampened face behind my hands. The pain, the inner conflict, the frustration and turmoil I kept so tightly bottled inside was now overwhelming, and pouring out right there, on the floor of my bedroom. Right in front of my mom, who’s visceral anger was now replaced with shock, guilt, and deep-seated concern.

Julia softened their features, sighing as they set the vial down on the vanity and kneeled down to my level.

“Miu, I—”

“I DIDN’T WANT TO, OKAY?!” I blurted out, uncovering my puffy, wet face to glare at them. “They came for me, okay? And the only reason I went was because I needed answers about these horrible dreams I keep having. Dreams of all the awful things that your ima did.”

They flinched at the sudden shift in energy, at the accusatory finger I pointed in their direction. Realizing my anger was getting the best of me, I folded into myself more, averting my eyes.

“I needed answers… Red and I did. Because Red didn’t know anything. I thought I’d get something, anything, if I went… even if it was little.” My voice cracked, and the tears began to flow again. “But all I got was thrown into the thick of all the crime and violence of that fucking city and I’m all fucked up now because of it. And I can’t even get out of it if I wanted to… I can’t leave any of this behind. So yeah. I use it because it helps. It’s a distraction—a temporary one, sure, but it’s… it’s all I’ve got.”

Julia’s frown deepened. They were sitting now, legs crossed as they listened.

“I… see…” they began, “Why is it that you can’t leave? And why… why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you trust me?” They held up the vial again. “Because this? This isn’t going to help you the way you think it will. But I can.”

The tension returned in my body. I felt every muscle lock in place at the questions, knowing the answer to both was the same.

“Miu.” Their voice turned stern. “Talk to me.”

“I… I…” I swallowed hard. The words were there, stuck in the back of my throat, and I was fighting to keep them there. To keep it back and away. To hold onto like I have been for so long. It was like I was comfortable here. So used to this pain that the thought of sharing it with someone else felt foreign—felt scary.

I can’t…

[ Miu. ]

I’m so tired…

[ Miu. It’s time. ] Red spoke again. [ Enough of this. ]

I can’t… I can’t…

I have to.

“I met someone.” I said finally. “Someone who… who knows you.”

Julia’s eyes furrowed, their face tense as the shock hit them.

“Who…?” Their voice was lower, softer, than I was used to hearing. I knew this was going to hurt them.

Enough of this…

I sat up, letting the knees I held close to my chest fall. I took a breath—inhale, then exhale.

Then I said it.

“Their name is Iannis.”

Silence.

Still.

That’s the best way I could describe my mother in that moment. Still—completely still. As if made of stone. The expression remained fixed, the muscles locked in place, as the realization settled into them that Iannis—the long-lost lover they thought dead for so many years—was indeed alive.

“I… I went back to save them, but… they were gone. Pixul took them away before I could get to them. But now I’m working with this guy, he says he’ll help me find them. He… he thinks Iannis may be in Vano.”

Their eyes began moving rapidly now, flickering in every which direction as their breath became tapered. Slowly, I began to realize they were trembling. It was a sight I was familiar with—I found myself in their shoes many times.

“M-mom…?” I said softly, hoping to coax them out of their trance. Nothing.

“…Ima?” I tried again, using the familiar title, the one they were used to. This time they did respond, but not in the way I was hoping.

They didn’t even look at me as they stood from their spot on the floor. Not so much as a glance in my direction as they stormed out of the room. Not even a goodbye as the front door slammed behind them.

And once again I was alone. Alone in an apartment I’d certainly have to clean before Nami returned. But for now, I just sat there. I sat and stared at the place where my mother once was. I looked down in my lap and stared at my tear-soaked hands. I lifted my head and turned towards the vanity, right in the spot where the vial stood.

I stared into the clear tube of silver, glittering dust. My source of happiness when my mind was devoid of any. When nothing else seemed to work. When the stress became too overwhelming.

I stared at it hard, and contemplated. Considered. And the longer I looked, the more that deep hunger began to swell inside me, in the deepest, darkest part of my heart.

I stared. And I stared. And I stared.

And I…

December 1st, 2020. 1:39 AM.

The weeks were starting to feel longer. The days blended together as time went on, and my job—both on the surface and beneath—were starting to feel too… mundane. Repetitive.

I tried to fill my day with distractions. Tried to change up my routine at points just to make things feel livelier. But nothing stuck for long. I still found myself feeling empty. Like a giant hole was carved into my chest and all the joy was sucked out, leaving nothing but an empty husk. A robot without a soul.

That isn’t how I presented myself though. On the surface, I was fine. I was still me. And in a way, pretending I was fine helped, even if only a little. I just wish I didn’t have to pretend at all.

I haven’t talked to my mom since that day.

I thought about calling home, seeing how everyone was. To see how they were doing, given what they now knew. I even considered maybe visiting for the holidays. It’d be a good chance for Nami to finally meet everyone. And moreso, it’d be a nice break from everything going on. But every time I reached for the phone, I was instantly hit with the memory of my mother’s anger. The yelling, the glares, the harsh words. I remember the way it twisted into anguish as I told them the truth—the full truth.

And I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Now I was here, tinkering away at the drone on my worktable, knowing that any semblance of a “break” would be a far-off memory for the foreseeable future.

How long could I close myself off, I wonder? How long until the self-sabotage got to an excruciating point? Was I not already there?

So much left to be seen, I suppose.

Vhiska was with me, standing at the other side of the table. She was running diagnostics on a few photomazers that Sai would be picking up later. I could hear her mumble curses under her breath on occasion as she meticulously examined each device.

I guess the mundanity wasn’t always bad. I liked moments like these. Quiet moments. Where it was just me and the many machines I would soon breathe life into. I preferred working with my hands rather than using my powers; the process was slower, but more intimate. More engaging. This way I wasn’t thinking about…

Yeah… no more of that.

The vial was in my pocket. I hadn’t decided yet if I was going to give it back to Sai or keep it. I went back and forth about it in my head, and the conclusion still remained unfounded. But I knew I had to decide soon, especially with Sai being minutes away from popping right into this very room.

“Hey,” Vhiska nodded their head towards me, “Could you hand me the—”

Cut off mid-sentence by the loud, sudden whirring sound from behind, a bright flash of light accompanying it, we both turned our heads to see Sai, clad in all black, entering the premise with each sword equipped and hilted on his hips and back.

Minutes… more like seconds.

“Hey.” He said simply, taking in our faces. He only glanced in my direction, but gave V a quick nod. “Could you, umm… could you give us a minute?”

Vhiska’s eyes flickered between the two of us, reluctant to leave her place at the table. But with a sigh, she placed the photomazer down and made their way towards the back room, rolling her eyes as she went.

“Guess I’ll go… help Barr with inventory.”

And with that, she was out of the room. Or at least, out of earshot. And Sai and I just remained there in silence, eyes awkwardly glancing at and away from each other over and over again. Things were still tense between us. Business took priority, but ever since I essentially forced him into my role as my dealer, the friendship we once had was dissipated. And that shitty feeling was taking over again.

I was the first to chime up, breaking the awkward pause between us. “Listen, Sai… I just wanted to say that, um… I’m really sorry? And I know that’s not enough… I know it wouldn’t be for me, but… I just want you to know that I’m not gonna ask again. I think that… I think that I’ll be okay without. Or at least, I can learn how…”

Sai only looked at me. The expression on his face was hard to read; there was a pang of guilt there, mixed with turmoil, and a small touch of sadness. Inner conflict, perhaps? Or maybe… heartbreak.

He sighed, pulling his hands from his pockets as he approached me, squatting down with his arms rested on his knees. He didn’t say anything for a while, only staring down as the floor. As if searching for the right words to say. I was starting to think my apology wasn’t enough—obviously, it wasn’t. It was hardly adequate considering the gravity of what I’ve done. Maybe I’ve fucked this up beyond repair. Maybe it was time to give up now. Or was it?

“L-look, Sai, I’m—”

“Sector 8.” He cut me off.

I stared down at him, brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you…”

“Sector 8. Environ 169. District 7.”

He lifted his head, staring me right in the eyes. I stared back, disbelief etched into my visage as I finally understood what he was telling me.

“Your friend is indeed in Vano.”

Even seeing it coming didn’t stop the words from hitting me like a truck. It didn’t make the weight of it any lighter either. This was it. This was really it. I had a location. A place, an exact place, pinpointed. The place where Iannis was.

And now all that was left to do was… go get her.

With that sudden realization, I felt that same weight—the weight of the world on my shoulders—threatening to crush me.

“Is there… is there anything else you need?” Sai asked, a look of deep concern in his eyes as he noticed how still I’d become. I wanted to answer—hell, my mind was screaming at me to. But my eyes were directed at the floor. I was still too shaken. Still too hyper-focused on that weight.

And suddenly I was reminded of the weight of a small vial in my pocket.

Sector 8. Environ 169. District 7.

There’s so much to do… I need to think. Need to plan…

Sector 8. Environ 169. District 7.

I don’t know what to do… how to get there, how to go about this…

Sector 8. Environ 169. District 7.

I need a plan. I need help…

Sector 8.

I need… I need…

Sector 8.

I need to relax…

I lifted my head towards Sai.

“Do you have some more?”

#p: julia

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