#Seagulls may be my mortal enemy

[shortsighted-owl]

[my-fanfic-library]

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [2]

Masterlist

~^*^~

His wicked eyes were set on your form. You were trying hard not to quiver under his heated gaze. How had he managed to get out? Did he have to rip his way out of that cell or was he allowed to walk free for some unknown reason? Not that the answer to those questions even mattered. A 6’4” vampire who had openly discussed your influence on his appetite was standing before you.

Should you flee? How does one overpower a vampire, anyhow? You had read in the account and heard it right from his mouth that Dracula could turn into certain creatures. It would take one shift of him into the black, beastly wolf for him to hunt you down with ease. You’d never even make it back up the slipway.

Your mind pounded and the indication that your heart was doing summersalts came to your attention as Dracula audibly took in a breath. He hummed in satisfaction as he released your scent. He knew he had managed to catch you completely off guard.

Within your bag, your phone began to vibrate and Dracula looked accusingly down at it. You bit your lip, fingers delving in to grab the decode and quickly answer.

“[First]?” Zoe’s voice rang through your ear.

“Zo-Zoe...” your lips trembled and it had nothing to do with the cool sea breeze.

“They let him out. They let Dracula out!” Her voice was in a similar state of panic and you knew it was because she was one of the only other people in the world who knew of his capabilities.

“Zoe, I-“

“Apparently he has a lawyer! Can you believe it?! Anyway, you need to be careful. He seemed to take a liking to you during the time you spent with him today. Promise me you’ll look after yourself.”

“Zoe-“

“Promise me, [First]-“

“It’s a little bit too late for that...” you trailed off, eyes locking with the man’s towering above you.

“How do you-... Where are you?!”

You had no chance to reply as cool fingers brushed against your own. You watched in horror as Dracula snatched the device from you and lifted it to his own ear.

“Dr. Van Helsing, how nice to get into contact... yes I know... trust me, I know... I suppose you could say it is a curiosity of sorts. It’s mere curiosity... what am I doing it for? Something different. Don’t bother us again, we’re busy.”

You could hear Zoe’s desperate pleas on the other end of the phone but Dracula had already figured out how to end a phone call and that was that.

“Absolutely amazing...” he breathed, turning your phone through his fingers as he inspected it, “they gave me a larger one in the Foundation. Did you know you can do practically anything on these little things? And it must be enchanted, considering it can deliver your voice to someone else so far away.” The wonder held in his eyes as he spoke made him seem almost human. Almost.

“Yes, I knew that...” you began, voice slow and as steady as possible, “but it’s not enchanted, it’s electric.”

“Electric...? How curious...”

“What is it that you wanted, and don’t just repeat your answer.” You folded you arms, trying to remain composed but your mind was whirring with the thought that this may be your last moment or two alive. If he really had decided to choose you as his next meal...

He sighed, an agitation growing deep in his chest. One of the only things he had ever craved so deeply was company. Most humans that he had interacted with were dull, cardboard cutouts of one another. Over 500 years of the same specimen got old and fast. There had only ever been a handful of humans that satisfied his thirst for something other than blood - good company. And Jonathan Harker, Sister Agatha Van Helsing and her descendant Dr. Zoe Van Helsing had been the only ones to peak his curiosity. But hours ago, when you had come in with a front of iron, and a poorly hidden core nothing short of anxiety-ridden, you had peaked this curiosity once more.

The sea groaned away in the distance and the seagulls had decided on steering well away from the undead figure on the sand. It was much more quiet, much more intimate and grew much more darker with every passing moment. Dracula’s eyes seemed locked on you, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to read between the lines of your stoic gaze up at him.

“What would you like my answer to be, [First]?” He inquired softly.

“Truthful, for starters.”

“Alright. You see, after 5 centuries of the same old types of people, one becomes accustomed to those who flee and quiver at the mere sight of a beast such as myself. I will never forget the day I made my entrance at the nunery Sister Agatha resided at.” At the mention of this woman’s name, you noticed a tenderness fill his voice and a small smile threatened the corners of his lips. A spark of wonder lit up in your chest. Had a cold, ancient, blood drinking beast grown a soft spot for one of the only people to put him in his place? His eyes glazed over momentarily and he seemed to look right through you.

“You still haven’t answered the question and you’re about to drool at the thought of this Sister Agatha.” You rolled your eyes. He immediately snapped out of it and there was a low rumble emitting from his chest for a split second.

“I like good company. Sister Agatha was good company. She was inquisitive and intrusive of my routine. While she lost our personal battle, she most certainly won my attention.” He looked down at you and noticed goosebumps rising on your skin. The sky was darkening even more and the navy had stretched out and was almost kissing the horizon, “goodness it’s late for a mortal, isn’t it?” His eyes glossed over the North Sea that expanded far into the horizon.

“Count Dracula?” You spoke, “are you going to kill me - or are you waiting for me to submit myself to you?” You has to ask. You needed to know if your life had reached its expiration date.

“Hm? Oh, not at all.” He looked down and then back towards you, a most wicked and mischievous grin taking hold over his features, “whilst I do enjoy a little food play every now and again,” he stepped forward and his right hand came up to cup your face delicately, “I have no intention of feasting upon you. Not yet, at least. Your scent alone is intoxicating. But your wit, your strength and your character are making me so very interested in you, Miss [First].” He stepped forwards, beginning to close the already small gap between you, “no, I think I’m going to have to keep an eye on you, young lady.” He spoke gently, eyes now boring down into your own. His orbs glistened in the moonlight, “I want to see just what you’re capable of.” He whispered.

“Maybe another time.” You suggested. Your eyes flitted up to the moon and back to him, “if all of this vampire lore is real, surely you should be off to your Transylvanian Earth to protect yourself?”

“And why would I do that?” He scoffed.

“Because it’s a full moon and that means werewolves.”

At the mere notion, the Count could no suppress the deep and hearty chuckle that bubbled up from his stomach. His eyes crinkled and his laughter caused him to bare his white teeth, currently blunt and of no means a weapon brandished to hurt you. For a moment, disbelief struck you as his laughs echoed along the beach and he let go of your face to smooth over his jacket. It took another moment for him to gain composure.

“Werewolves - now you’re being ridiculous.” He smirked down at you. He shoved one hand into his pocket.

“So a 523 year old vampire from Transylvania who wants to befriend a human because they’re using scientifically proved tactics to not die as prey and wants to know if there is any more substance to that is totally just mormal but you draw the line at warewolves? The supposed arch-enemy of vampires?”

“It’s ridiculous, I mean, how on Earth would the first warewolf even be created?”

“Well how were you created?” You challenged.

“Well, when a man loves a woman-“ he smirked.

“If you continue to speak, I really will drive a stake right through your chest.” He groaned inwardly at your response.

“I must admit, I do like your flare. You are very much lively, aren’t you?” He cocked his head.

“Livelier than you.”

~^*^~

When you awoke the next morning, you knew that you were in for some serious trouble. Zoe had left you over 30 missed calls, along with a plethora of concerned text messages inquiring about your and Dracula’s whereabouts. Although you could no longer answer for the Count, you found yourself sending a snarky reply that you were currently in bed. This turned out to be a mistake as within 10 minutes, your front door had burst open and Zoe, along with five armed men appeared at the foot of your bed.

You should have known that Zoe of all people would have freaked out over your contact with Dracula - she had been chasing him her entire life. Now he had been found. Not only had he been found, he had somewhat been resurrected and was on the prowl again for food and destruction. And you were a prime target.

After checking your body for bite marks, she began to harass you for every single detail about your encounter with Dracula the previous evening. You told her about him finding warewolf lore ridiculous, the obvious obsession he seemed to have with Sister Agatha, and how he had most likely revealed just a little too much to you about his true intentions. He wanted good company and anyone who rose to challenge him or stand out from the usual screaming meals he usually dealt with was a possible target for his attention.

“I don’t get it... I mean, I kind of do, it must be lonely to have everyone be afraid of- no I don’t get it.” Zoe sighed, “he’s an unnatural predator. Everyone is meant to be scared of him. A lion would never go for a snake because the snake would never be afraid of a lion. It wouldn’t even pay the snake any attention whatsoever! It would go after a zebra or something. So why is Dracula so focused on the snakes...”

“Thank you for insinuating that I am a snake, Zo.” You rolled your eyes.

“Not just you, but it seemed Jonathan Harker was a snake in Dracula’s hunting ground as well as Sister Agatha... I am said to look just like her, and I take no bull crap from him either...” You could tell she was losing you as she drifted off into a train of thought, “you’re going to have to cater to Dracula. We need to know what makes him tick.”

“What? So you’re going to use me as bait to do your little experiments on him?” You frowned.

“You said yourself he doesn’t intend on harming you.”

“Yeah, because a vampire never lies, huh, Zoe?”

“Please, [First]. I promise you we will do everything to keep you safe.”

“You better have a whole S.W.A.T. styled team on my ass at all times, Zo.”

“Only the best for my favourite assosicate.” Your ease to obey her wishes and commands caused a smile to break out on her features.

~^*^~

Walking along the pier, you allowed the hot summer breeze to ruffle your hair and cool your hot skin a little. Looking to your right was the Abbey perched high on the cliffs. You could make out some forms of the last tourists enjoying their visit. The sun had yet again sunken well below the horizon and your heart thumped in your chest. You anticipated a certain undead male’s arrival at any moment. It wasn’t that you had invited him out, but you knew that if he had become attached to your scent, he’d find you.

It was only a matter of time before he did find you. And you dreaded that moment.

[johaerys-writes]

Dorian Pavus/ Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 27: White-Speckled Dove

Tristan gets trapped in a nightmare. A friend comes to help.

Read here or on AO3! | Read from the beginning

(art is by @le-mooon​)

*******************************

“He saw her clear face lighten on his face

Unwittingly, with unenamoured eyes

For the last time. A live man in such wise

Looks in the deadly face of his fixed hour

And laughs with lips wherein he hath no power

To keep the life yet some five minutes' space.

So Tristan looked on Ethelwyn face to face

and knew not, and she knew not. The last time —

The last that should be told in any rhyme

Heard anywhere on mouths of singing men

That ever should sing praise of them again;

The last that sorrow far from them should sit,

This last was with them, and they knew not it. ”

The soft murmur of the waves as they crashed against the shore and the distant squawks of seagulls melded with the spoken words, whirled about him before they were carried away on a sharp gale. The sand was warm where Tristan lay, warm from the sun that had been beating down on the beach all day. With his arm tucked under his head, he watched the fluffy white clouds drift along the untroubled summer sky while Tilly read from the small leather bound book in her hands.

“Isn’t it romantic?” she said, sighing longingly, closing the book and bringing it to her heart. “They were gazing at each other for the last time before Ethelwyn would be taken, yet neither of them knew it. Oh, what pain would Ethelwyn feel, if only she knew!”

Tristan wrinkled his nose, making a disgusted sound. “Forget Ethelwyn,” he replied tartly. “Think about Tristan. He is the one that will have to travel all the way to Ferelden to pry her from King Brayburn. Ethelwyn will just sit there braiding her hair, waiting to be rescued.”

“My, my, what a cynic,” Tilly rolled her eyes. “Have you no heart?”

“I do have a heart. And a brain, apparently.” He yelped when Tilly smacked him on the head with the book.

“I declare that you have neither.” She grinned at him when he shot her a disgruntled glare. “Now, which part shall I read next? I think Tristan and Ethelwyn’s reunion is in order.”

“Not a chance. Enough with the romance. Read the part where Tristan challenges King Brayburn to a duel.”

“Not that again! It’s boring,” Tilly complained.

“What do you mean ‘again’? We haven’t read that in days!” Tristan said, sitting up. “And it’s not boring. That’s the best part.”

Tilly rolled her eyes again and scoffed. “It’s very, very boring.”

“No, it’s not. I’ll prove it to you.” Tristan hopped up on his feet, picking up a piece of driftwood that had been lying beside him. “King Brayburn of Ferelden,” he declared in an exaggerated Orlesian accent, his body melting into the starting fencing position. “I am Tristan de Lydes. I have come to claim my bride. Prepare to die. En guard !” He lunged forward, slashing at the air before him. His makeshift sabre whistled as he moved through a quinte , then spun around to slash at his imagined enemy with a sixte. “Take this! And that!” he said, piercing his opponent with a septime, then attacking again with an octave . “Know the wrath of a true Chevalier, you fetid Fereldan fleabag!” Tilly giggled as she watched him move through the various fencing moves, laughing outright when he lunged forward theatrically, stabbing his opponent. “There!” he exclaimed in triumph. “Right through your stone cold heart! Tristan de Lydes is victorious once more.”

“What if King Brayburn has a dagger hidden under his cloak? That should be interesting.”

Tristan blinked at his sister, then sniffed, tossing his head back in defiance. “Brayburn doesn’t stand a chance against Tristan.”

Tilly smirked, tapping her nose. “Not if Brayburn takes him by surprise.”

Tristan paused for a moment, then returned her smile with a wink. With an exaggerated flurry, he shoved the piece of wood under his arm, as if he had been stabbed in the chest. “Oh! Whence comes this blade, the one that now my breast transfixes? Though I scarcely believe it so, ‘tis true; my heart is in mortal throes. Woe is me! Death is upon me!” Tilly’s laughter rang along the beach, empty save for them. Tristan staggered back, clutching his chest. “Ethelwyn, my love, my white-speckled dove, forgive me, for I have been defeated.”

“If Sir Tristan were such a pompous fool, I think Ethelwyn would be too busy laughing herself to death to forgive him,” Tilly said, wiping mirth from her eyes.

Tristan didn’t respond as he fell on one knee, putting on an expression of grave distress. “And wilt thou weep when I am low? Sweet lady! Speak those words again: yet if they grieve thee say not so- I would not give thy bosom pain.” He bit back a grin, watching Tilly howl with laughter, tapping her feet on the sand. He took a deep breath, raising his arm in a plea towards the heavens. “My heart is sad, my hopes are gone, my blood runs coldly through my breast; and when I perish thou alone wilt sigh above my place of rest. Oh lady! Blessd be that tear - it falls for one who cannot weep; Such precious drops are doubly dear, To those whose eyes no tear may steep.” Brushing the back of his hand dramatically over his brow, he let himself collapse on the ground while Tilly wheezed beside him.

“Oh, brother,” Tilly said, breathless amidst her sobs of laughter, “you’re a right dafty.”

Tristan smiled, keeping his eyes closed. “I’m no dafty,” he murmured. “I’m Sir Tristan the Brave.”

“He speaks!” Tilly exclaimed, clapping her hand over her mouth. “The dead man speaks!” She turned to him, deft fingers digging in his neck to tickle. “Witchcraft! I sense witchcraft!”

Tristan tried to swat the fingers on his neck away, but it was no use. “Stop it! S-s-stop! Ah! Let me go, you tyrant,” he panted, cackling with the unexpected attack. He rolled away from her, safely out of her grasp. He lay from a moment on the warm sand, catching his breath. “That was cheap,” he said, still panting. “You know how much it-”

He turned around to look at her, only to have his words die on his lips. Empty. The beach was empty, empty space where his sister used to be. Even her footprints on the sand had disappeared. As if she never were. As if the tide had rushed in and washed everything away.

“Tilly?” Tristan stood up slowly, glancing around him. A lone seagull’s cry and the waves crushing on the shore were the only replies he received. He took a few steps forward, scanning the beach around him. He thought he caught a glimpse of something, someone moving at the edges of his vision. “Till?” he called again, but there was no one there. No one save but him. He paused, rubbing his temples as a faint tightness settled about his skull. It didn’t make sense. She was there only a moment before. Maybe she’d gone back home, or…

He glanced towards the path that led back up the cliff. There was no way she could have climbed it so swiftly, but there was no other way she could have gone. There was nothing but rocks and sand everywhere around him. He shook his head, brushing away the pressure that seemed to swell behind his eyes with every second. Home. Yes. That’s where she would be. That’s where he would go. He would walk back home and find her, and if she wasn’t there, he would tell Nelly and they would find her together. Nelly would know what to do.

The old path up the crag was always a struggle to climb, but Tristan knew it like the back of his hand. He knew where to step, which rocks to avoid, where to hop and where to tread carefully. He reached the top just as a red and swollen sun was dipping slowly behind the eastern mountain range. The tall grasses on the cliff edge bent and shivered with the wind, the silver edges of their blades glinting in the waning light. Their calm movement drew him in, hypnotising him. He blinked, blinked again, trying to tear his gaze away, just as the edges of his vision blurred with sudden motion.

The cliff melted away, the beach and the endless stretch of sea beyond it disappeared. A small clearing in a meadow sprung in its place, the same golden sun casting its rays on the soft grass beneath his feet. The leaves of the apple trees above him stirred languidly in the wind, the white petals of their blossoms falling around him like snowflakes. He knew this clearing. He had sat there with Tilly countless times. He would take Sea Spray and she would take Prancer and they would ride all the way there to sit under the trees. A hiding place, of sorts.

A quick shuffling of feet, the susurrus of fabric, drowned out by the sighing of the wind. Tristan spun on his heel, following the sound. Blonde hair, so pale it looked white; a flash of yellow fabric, catching the light as it flitted behind a tree trunk. That bright yellow dress, the one that Tilly loved best, the one she always used to wear in the summer. He chased after it, that bright spark amidst the rain of whirling apple blossoms- and found himself staring into a pair of dark blue eyes, gleaming violet in the setting sun.

“Tilly,” he panted. “I’ve been looking for you.”

His sister grinned up at him, as if she had never been gone at all. “Let’s go back to town,” she said, taking his hand. The everite band on her finger felt cool against his skin. “We’ll miss the fireworks.”

“The fireworks?” he asked, and only then remembered. Yes, it was Summerday. Ostwick would be filled with people, every street packed to watch the procession of young boys and girls wearing their finest tunics and gowns. They would be making their way through the winding cobblestone lanes to the Chantry to get Andraste’s blessing before they came of age. There would be jugglers and musicians on every street corner, and merchants selling corn on the cob and Antivan spiced cakes, and after the procession was over everyone would gather in the grand square to watch the fireworks. It was Tilly’s favourite day. She loved the way the fireworks crackled and fizzled in the air, exploding in a multitude of glimmering shapes. Tristan had promised he would go with her. A promise he intended to keep.

But the clearing was quiet and peaceful. He was oddly drawn to it, and the thought of leaving it filled him with sadness, a dark wave that curled and gripped him, pulling him under like there were stones tied to his feet. He let Tilly drag him forward a few steps before he stopped. “Tilly, wait.”

“What’s wrong, Tris?”

He blinked at her for a moment, the waves within him rising, soaring until he could scarcely breathe. “Let’s stay here a little bit longer,” he whispered through the knot in his throat. “Just you and me.”

Tilly regarded him quizzically, her brows furrowed in confusion before she shook her head. Her blonde tresses rippled with the movement. “We’re late already. Come on, it’ll be fun!” She shot him a bright smile over her shoulder as she ran ahead. “I’ll race you to the horses.”

“Wait, don’t-” he started, but the words wouldn’t come out. His heart clenched as he watched her draw further away, her form disappearing through the trees. Don’t go. Stay with me. Don’t go.

**

The tavern was almost empty. The last patrons remaining were either mumbling to themselves or sleeping with their heads on the tables, their shiny surfaces sticky with dried ale. Tristan took a long draught from his brandy, wincing as he swallowed. It was bad, burning its way down his throat, but it was good enough. The best he could hope for in that sort of place. He idly watched the crackling of the flames in the hearth, brushing his thumb over the ring on his finger. It glided over the letters etched on its dark surface, smooth and continuous save for a band of fresh everite where he had had it taken out. It irked him to see it marred like that, the inscription interrupted, but there was no way it would fit on his finger otherwise. And on his finger it had to be; on his finger it had to stay, until the time came for him to give it back to its rightful owner.

He took a shallow breath, giving the ring a small twist. That was the only thing he could do as he waited. And waited.

The door opened slowly, screeching on its hinges. Tristan glanced at the newcomers from the corner of his eye. A short fellow, dark hair cropped short and beady eyes that seemed to examine the room, taking in every detail even as he pretended not to look in any particular direction. He and the men that came after him took a table at the far end of the tavern. The minstrel, who had been dozing off in one of the booths, sprang to his feet, scrambling to the makeshift stage close to the hearth. His lute let out a pitiful whine as he tuned it hastily, plucking the strings on by one. His voice was just a tad hoarse when he started singing an old song, a bothy ballad from Starkhaven, one that Tristan hadn’t expected to hear there.

The bartender had started preparing mugs of ale before the men had even sat down. Tristan reached for his coin purse, sliding a sovereign to the bartender. “Four glasses of your finest whiskey. For the gentlemen at the back.” The man shot him a sideways glance, his eyes sweeping over Tristan where he sat. A couple seconds passed before he nodded guardedly, picking up the sovereign from the counter. The drinks were served. Tristan waited with bated breath for the men to raise their glasses to him in acknowledgement before walking over to their table.

“Who’s our mysterious benefactor?” the man with the beady eyes said, a heavy Starkhaven lilt to his voice.

“Remy.” Tristan couldn’t risk giving his name to these people, not before he was sure of their intentions. His middle name would have to do. He never used it anyway. It was a stupid name his mother had chosen for him. He hated it. The man nodded towards the seat across from him and Tristan took it, never looking away. “Glad to make your acquaintance.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “No last name, Remy?”

“In time,” he replied. “I’m sure you understand.”

The other men exchanged a glance, but the dark haired man’s gaze remained fixed on him. “Of course. I assume you already know our names?”

Tristan nodded slowly. He knew all their names, had taken care to learn them beforehand. The man with the beady eyes was Vala Norden. The blonde to his right was Herriot, the man with the scar down his face was Hooks and the tall Antivan man at the edge of the booth was Andris. Fake names certainly, but notorious among the Ostwick underworld.

“Very well, Remy. How can we help?” Norden flashed him a smile, the edges curled in a smirk that was vaguely mocking. “I expect you need something from us.”

Tristan didn’t like that smile. It spoke volumes about what the man had already gathered about him; that he was wealthy, probably. Even though he’d taken care to wear his most inconspicuous clothes, the fabric of his doublet was far richer than anyone in that part of town would wear, his coat clean, his shirt freshly pressed. And there was not much he could do about the absence of scars on his face, or the paleness of his skin. Norden had possibly also gathered that he was a young heir, and he might have even guessed which part of Ostwick he was coming from from the way he held himself.

He resisted the urge to bite his lip. He should have given him an entirely assumed name. He cleared his throat, forcing a placid expression on his face. “I have a quest for you.”

“What quest?”

“A jailbreak. Of sorts.”

“A jailbreak?” Norden echoed. “The Ostwick prison has become notoriously tough to get out of recently. Those bastards have tripled their security over the last year. It will cost you.”

“Not the prison.” Norden’s eyebrow quirked with interest. Tristan’s heart was ready to beat out of his throat. He could leave just then, he knew. Just tell them that he had changed his mind, walk out the door and never come back. But he was determined. He had been trying to track this man down for weeks. There was no one else that could do what he wanted them to do. And they had to do it. Someone had to.

From the tales he’d heard, the situation in the Circles all around Ferelden and the Marches was getting from bad to worse. Imprisonments, torture, rapes, executions; anything could happen to a mage that simply glanced at a Templar the wrong way, or so he heard. It had already been five years since Tilly was taken, two since he had spoken to her last. The Ostwick Circle had been the last to ban visitations, but it’d been a full year since it had forbidden letters from family and friends as well. Keeping mages under lock and key, allowing them no contact with the outside world, leaving them prey to whatever madness was happening behind their closed doors. Tristan couldn’t sleep at night, couldn’t eat, could hardly breathe for his worry for her.

He clenched his fist in his lap. All or nothing, he reminded himself. All or nothing.  

“The Circle of Magi.”

Norden’s beady eyes widened so much, Tristan thought they would pop out of their sockets. “The Circle of Magi?” he scoffed. “It seems to me you’ve lost your mind, Remy. Perhaps you should have another drink. To clear your head.”

Tristan curled his fingers around his mug, his lips tightening in a line. “I know how it sounds. It’s difficult, yes, but not impossible. I’ve heard of a way in.” He paused, lowering his voice to a half whisper. “I’ll make it worth your while.”  

Norden’s smirk belied his interest, but his gaze was still hard as stone, and as unyielding as one. “Oh, I don’t think you would have near enough gold to finance such a venture. We would need men, resources, new weapons...” He let his words trail off as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“How much?”

“... information about the Templar’s patrols, about possible ways in and out… That sort of knowledge comes at a price. Not to mention buying the guards’ silence. Just with my brief calculations you’ve gathered yourself quite a hefty sum-”

“I said; how much?” Tristan’s fist was wrapped so tightly about his mug his knuckles were white, and he forced himself to release it. He had to keep his composure. He couldn’t let these men realise he was desperate, or they would feast upon him like scavengers upon a carcass.

“One hundred thousand sovereigns.”

Tristan’s blood froze in his veins. That was… that was… he never thought he had heard of such a sum before. It was certainly much, much higher than what he’d heard Norden charging for a job. Other than his own monthly allowance, his mother gave him no access to the family fortune. If he sold every item in the Trevelyan manor that wasn’t lodged firmly in place, he might be able to gather about two thirds of that amount. If he sold a few of the horses, some of the rare ones they kept in the stables, he might be able to cover the rest. His own horse, Sea Spray, would have to go. Imperial Warmbloods sold well in the Ostwick markets. His stomach tightened at the thought of selling their horses, but he had to. They might be enough to make up the amount that Norden asked. Maybe. If he were able to get a good price for them, and Maker knew he was terrible at bartering.

Just as he was trying to wrap his mind around Norden’s demands, the man spoke again, sending Tristan’s stomach plummeting even further.

“We’re also going to be needing equipment. And horses. And food for the horses.”

Tristan clenched his jaw, returning Norden’s gaze levelly. As levelly as he could while his guts were coiling like eels under his skin. “Fifty thousand sovereigns,” he said in what he hoped was an icy tone. “And five horses.”

Norden blinked at him for a moment, then let out a quiet harrumph. “I don’t think you’re in a position to barter with me. In fact, I don’t even think you’re in a position to barter with anyone. Do you even have that amount of gold?”

“I do,” Tristan said quickly. “I will.”

“You will?” There was a mocking glint in Norden’s eyes before they narrowed, focusing on him like well sharpened blades. “Perhaps I should double it, then. Since you sound so certain. Two hundred thousand? That sounds reasonable, doesn’t it, lads?” His crawlies nodded, sneering.

“No!” Tristan said quickly, and flinched inwardly at his hastiness. He cleared his throat, suppressing the wild beating of his heart. “No. One hundred. I’ll give you one hundred. You’ll have it.”

Norden’s grin widened, revealing a row of crooked teeth. “Very well. One hundred. And twenty horses. Ten pack horses, five destriers, five coursers.”

Twenty horses. Void take him. The Trevelyan manor stables were amongst the largest in Ostwick, and they only held thirty four horses. Perhaps if he was careful, at night, perhaps… He swallowed thickly, nodding. “Alright. Twenty horses. You’ll have them.”

“Oh. And one more thing.” Tristan held his breath, preparing himself for whatever outrageous thing Norden was going to ask next. Norden leaned forward on the table. His eyes flashed oddly in the half light. “You’ll let my boy Andris here do whatever he wants to you for a night.”

Tristan gaped at him. Bile rose in his throat, choking him. He was going to be sick. Surely, he was. The men around him erupted in raucous laughter, banging their mugs on the table.

“You should make it two nights boss,” the man with the scar on his face said. “There might be some left over for us after Andris is finished with him.”

“I say we keep him for three nights.”

“How about a week? A week’s fair.”

“More than fair.”

Tristan could only stare as Norden and his crawlies laughed and jeered, discussing among themselves like he wasn’t even there. It took significant effort to work some saliva into his mouth and speak. “What is the meaning of this?” he said, hoping his voice didn’t sound as meek as he felt. “I’ve been told that you’re a man that one can make a reasonable deal with. Seems I was mistaken.”

The laughter died down. Norden and his men glared at him. Silence stretched long amongst them, the minstrel’s lute that had gone slightly out of tune the only sound in the room. After what felt like minutes, Norden settled back on his chair, gesturing to his men. “Toss him out.”

“What?” Tristan breathed, eyeing the men that had stood up, looming over him. He fumbled for words as he saw his only chance slipping between his fingers. “No- wait- I-I told you I’d bring the gold. And the horses. I told you-”

“Told me?” Norden laughed, the sound sending chills down Tristan’s spine. “No. You come into my bar, buying me and my men drinks and asking us to storm the Circle of Magi for you. I wouldn’t go into that shithole even if they offered me Queen Anora on a silver platter. This has been amusing, but Vala Norden doesn’t make deals with madmen. Remember that.” He nodded to his men. “Show him out, boys. Rough him up a little on the way, will you? That’ll teach him to come around here again.”

Two pairs of hands, their grip strong like iron, tightened around Tristan’s arms. The minstrel’s tune got louder as Tristan was hauled to his feet. He kicked and grunted swears while Norden’s thugs dragged him bodily across the tavern, to no avail. They were far stronger than he was. Norden raised his drink, downing it in one go just before his men pushed him out the door. “Thanks for the whiskey, by the way,” he called out to him. “A fine choice.”

A heavy autumn drizzle had started to fall, the droplets dampening the top of his head when he was shoved out into the street. Hooks’s fist landed on his cheek before he could regain his footing. His head snapped to the side, ears ringing with the force of the impact. Tristan staggered back, tasting blood in his mouth, just as another fist flew his way. This time he ducked to avoid the blow, shoving his knee into Hooks’s stomach instead. It was almost instinctual, the way his body moved before he could even think to ward off his attackers. The man groaned, doubling over. Andris took a threatening step towards him, pressing his fist to his palm.

“Wanted to make a deal with Vala, did you?” he said, baring his teeth in a snarl. “Came all the way down here from your fancy mansion to take the piss?”

Tristan’s anger flared hot and bright. He dabbed the cut on his lip with his tongue, the strong taste of copper mingling with his saliva. “Fuck you,” he spat, stepping back when Andris swung for his head. He dodged behind him, shoving the flat of his palm to the base of his thick skull, then following it with a good kick at his knee joint. The man groaned in pain, swinging around wildly in his effort to get to him. Tristan almost smiled when he saw him limping. He idly wondered what his Chevalier-trained fencing tutor would say if he saw him attacking someone from behind in a brawl. He edged back when Andris staggered his way, avoiding his fist and landing a hard punch under his chin instead, taking just a tiny bit of satisfaction when he heard the definitive sound of teeth cracking.

He was about to land a finishing strike on Andris’s face when the sound of gravel under heavy boots behind him stopped him. He spun around, ready to pounce on Hooks and release all his frustration on his ugly, disfigured face, when the flash of steel made him freeze in his tracks.

“Like playing it tough, do you, sweetheart?” the man hissed, taking a step closer. His lips widened in a grin when he noticed Tristan’s apprehension. “Will you act as tough after I cut you open and hand you your guts like a fucking Satinalia gift?”

Tristan swallowed, his gaze flicking between the well sharpened blade before him and the man’s face. He looked deranged, eyes gleaming in the dark. He stepped back carefully, his pulse buzzing in his ears like bees in a jar. A buzz that turned into a high pitched ringing when he bumped against Andris’s chest. Trapped. He was trapped. Backed in a corner, between a blade and Andris’s fists waiting to crush him.

“You noble shits walking about like you own the place,” Hooks continued, voice thick with vehemence. His grin got even wider, twisting his features. “I’ll teach you a lesson, duckling. Oh, I’ll teach you. What if I slice that pretty face of yours down the middle? That should scare the ladies away.” He took another step, when Andris’s grunt stopped him.

“No blades.”

Hooks’s eyes snapped to Andris’s, the white in them glimmering threateningly. “Are you joking?”

Andris shook his head. “Don’t want a noble bleeding to death on our fucking doorstep.” The tall man shoved Tristan back, sending him tumbling on the muddy ground. His large booted foot crashed against his stomach, knocking his breath right out of him. A guttural, pitiful groan escaped him as he tried to scramble away, when Andris’s boot dug into him again. And again. The Antivan stared down at him like he was an ant, grinning. “He can squirm on our doorstep, though.”

The pain was blinding. Tristan coughed and wheezed, trying to get some air back into his lungs. Every breath sent his ribs and stomach muscles screaming in agony. He dug his nails in the gravel, slowly clawing his way away from the sneering men. His heart was beating frantically in his chest, banging against his ribcage.

He flinched in terror when Hooks squatted down, grabbing a fistful of his hair and forcing Tristan’s gaze to his. He was an ugly bastard, his face so close to him, his breath stinking of booze and smoke. Tristan bit his bleeding lip, mustering all his courage in an effort to stifle the urge to plead for his life. To beg for mercy. He wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction. Not if he could help it.

As if he could read his thoughts, Hooks gave him a wide smile. “Goodnight, little dove,” he said sweetly before his fist collided with Tristan’s face, sending his head bouncing on the hard packed ground beneath him. He groaned with the pain that exploded behind his eyelids, winced as a thin stream of warm liquid trickled down his scalp. Hooks stood up, chuckling under his breath as he clapped Andris on the shoulder. The street was bathed in the soft orange light from the inside of the tavern for a moment before the door clicked shut behind them, engulfing the world in darkness once more.

Tristan lay on the ground for a long while. Minutes. Hours, for all he could tell. He lay as still as he could, gasping and sputtering blood, willing the contents of his stomach to stay where they were. It took more out of him than he would have thought to slowly, shakily press himself up into all fours. He crawled to a nearby wall, clawing at the gaps between the bricks to haul himself up. His head was swimming as he leaned heavily against it, panting. There was no other light save for the light flickering from the tavern’s closed windows, and the full moon that was staring him down from its place atop the sky’s velvet canopy. Tristan let out a tremulous breath, pressing his eyes shut in hopes of abating the burn that had built up behind them.

Gone. One more glimmer of hope of getting Tilly out gone, snuffed out like the flame of a candle, one more plan crushed like a butterfly under an anvil. It had taken him weeks to find out how to approach Norden, weeks of asking and begging and gathering information and bribing, all for nothing. All to get beaten up in a back alley. Spat upon. Humiliated. He’d been in bar fights before, but this was… this was different. These men wanted to hurt him. They’d taken pleasure from hurting him. They would have done worse, if it hadn’t been so inconvenient for them. Even if they had, he would only have himself to blame.  

He blinked, angrily scrubbing hot tears mingled with dust and blood from his face. A fool, a damned fool was what he was. He had let those men sniff his desperation, and they had pounced on it like hounds on blood. Never again, he promised himself. Never again.

He peeled himself off the wall, groaning when the world spun around him. The night was still dark and thick, not a soul passing by the quiet street. He had to move. He had to leave that place. If someone saw him there, in the state he was in now, they would probably not hesitate for a breath before finishing what the others had started. No one in their right minds walked about this part of town after sundown. At least not those that didn’t belong there. It’d been a mistake to come there from the start. A mistake, or naivety, or utter madness - Tristan wasn’t sure what it was that drove him anymore. Mad. He was probably mad. Mad, for fighting to get his sister out, when there was no way of getting her out. Mad, for trying again and again, even though every time he failed worse than the last. Mad, for clinging on to hope that he could change things, fix things, make everything the way it was before. Mad. Mad. Mad.

His palm, when he dragged it over his face again, came away wet and bloody. Useless. Stupid and mad and useless. There was no changing things. No fixing things. No hope. He wasn’t a hero, or a brave Chevalier of legend, a knight in shining armour. He wasn’t Tristan de bloody Lydes. He was alone. All alone. And somewhere, in a cold cell in the Circle Tower, she was alone, too.

Despair rose in him in a wave. It was all too much, far too much. His breath came in short and shallow pants as the world closed in around him. Everything was spinning, whirling out of his control. He reached out for something, anything to stop his fall-

His fingers closed about an outstretched hand. He looked up, blinking at the young man before him. Pale blue eyes staring at him through a curtain of light blonde hair, falling messily about a pale face. His features obscured by a wide brim hat.

Those features tugged at Tristan’s memory. He squinted at the man through his haze. “What… who-”

“I’m Cole,” the man said softly. “I’m here to help.”

[bates--boy]

ABOUT:

FULL NAME:   Peter Timothy Kirkland NICKNAME(S):   Pete, Sea, Petey, Squirt (even though he’s fucking 5′11″) Hey You!, Stop!, He’s Stealing That Puppy! AGE:   physically 20, chronologically 77 BIRTHDAY: September 2, 1942 [shrugs]

SPECIES:  micronation personification  NATIONALITY:  English  Sealandic/Swedish/Sometimes Finnish if he feels like it. GENDER:   male PREFERRED PRONOUN(S):   he / him ORIENTATION:   a very loud bi RELIGION:   None/atheist OCCUPATION:  Animal caretaker and performer at the Karlstad Animal Conservatory and Aquarium STATUS:   Hmmmmm he constantly feels like the edge of the cliff is always following him, right at his heels, waiting for that one slip-up, that one trip, that one mistake, and he’ll fall

                                         fall                                              fall                                                   fall

and be so completely broken that there is no way to come back up, but it’s maybe he’s just tired. Otherwise, he’s doing well!

FANDOM:  The hell that haunts my nightmares -- Hetalia. FACE CLAIM:   William Moseley (I keep seeking out new potential face claims, but it looks like Will’s too perfect as my Older Sealand for me to change up.)

                 RELATIONSHIPS:

PARENTS:   I usually go with canon and say Sweden and maybe Finland.  SIBLINGS: England, the N.A. countries, Ladonia, @ask-fennoswede‘s Siffreya SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S):  None, though he falls in love easily and quickly due to his pursuit of the movie romance (he’s working on that with his therapist). (In a human AU, he’s in a relationship with @asktheirelandtwins‘s Erie!)

CHILDREN: All the micronations that are younger than him. He is Brother. He is Father. He is Life. ENEMIES:  Sometimes England; his former boss at the city hall, and I think he’s currently working on @pvremichigan (?)

                PHYSICAL TRAITS:

EYE COLOR(S):  sky blue HAIR COLOR(S):   sandy blond HEIGHT:  5′11″ BODY BUILD:  It depends on his current diet (which is mostly sweets and canned goods) and his level of activity; he’s getting his swimmer’s body back from working as an aquatics performer at the animal center. NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS:   A belly button piercing he once got from a Magic Anon (it carried over from the first ever ask blog, because it was just too good to let go)

currently, his hair is growing past his armpits (yaaaay depression era!)

he has a tattoo all along his back to cover the burn from the 2006 fire (which he is thinking about changing)

The perkiest booty ever

An industrial piercing in each ear

Long legs (like 95% of his body... 2D/Damon proportions...)

             PHOBIAS AND DISEASES:

PHOBIA(S):  Thanatophobia. It’s worse when he witnesses the death of a mortal because there’s no coming back for them. It’s tied to his first ever exposure of it in WWII, when he was just chosen as a representation at the physical age of 4. Athazagoraphobia. Although it may be partially due to his mental illness, I blame England. Because why not?

MENTAL DISEASE(S): Cyclothymia and alcoholism.

PHYSICAL DISEASE(S):   Well, he gets this thing in his knees whenever a thunderstorm occurs...

                   PERSONALITY:

USUAL MOOD/EXPRESSION: Positive - Chipper, adventurous, affable, affectionate, humorous Negative - ridiculously clingy, hopeless, drunk/high, explosive, restless

                        MISC:

SKILLS:   swimming, teaching, animal care, demolition (as in if he takes it apart, god bless him if he tries to put it back together again); shooting, street fighting, boat steering, navigation, marine research, singing HOBBIES:   music, dancing (of the hip-hop/waltz/pole/pop/freestyle varieties), reading, watching television, earning gifts, pestering pets ANIMAL:   Seagull

                        STATS:

COMPASSION:  10/10 EMPATHY:  9/10 CREATIVITY:  7/10 MENTAL FLEXIBILITY:  8/10 PASSION/MOTIVATION: 10/10 EDUCATION:  9/10 STAMINA:  8/10 PHYSICAL STRENGTH:  9/10 BATTLE SKILL:  9/10 INITIATIVE:  9/10 RESTRAINT: 3/10 AGILITY:  7/10 STRATEGY:  8/10 TEAMWORK:  8/10

tagged by @paralianprince  (Me: wow, this looks fun! I can’t wait to do it! John Mulaney voice: And then I didn’t!)

TAGGING : @asktheirelandtwins @ask-fennoswede@ourfairdominion @insolxntprince​ @yesfxckyxu​

[mittensmorgul]

I’m currently rewatching s11 (hello to everyone else on the tnt loop!) and looking at some interesting parallels with s14...

I’m effectively past the point where it becomes obvious that Dabb has taken the wheel as showrunner, and into the territory where he and Bobo are pretty heavily laying out the heavy character stuff that will drive the emotional narrative going forward.

What makes a monster, using the wrong words, what we’re willing to do for the people we love, and all of these people truly beginning to wonder who they want to be and what their real place is in the whole cosmic order. What is their real purpose and value as individuals.

And this is a journey that Sam, Dean, and Cas have been on during Dabb era, with the narrative textually telling us to remember the past but not to wallow in it, not to let their future be defined only by regret.

So this notion that the exact same plotline is now playing out with Michael “pretending” to be Dean for some inexplicable reason... I think Bobo probably remembers his own episode with Lucifer pulling that deception with Cas (11.14):

Lucifer: Mmm, I feel a burden lifted. You know, this whole 'deep cover' thing, it just wasn't, it wasn't terribly well thought out. Donning this-this Cas mask? This grim face of angelic constipation? Just ugh. And then teaming up with you two. I mean, I thought you boys were insufferable as mortal enemies. But, working with you? Ugh, that's the soul crusher. Why the faces, boys? You should be cheering. We have a common enemy, and with this she will be no problem. I mean, I will have killed you both by then, but still, come on.

I mean I guess nothing is stopping Michael from being as shiftless and directionless as Lucifer-- even when Luci did have a stated mission to defeat the Darkness, he knew it was a bluff at best the entire time, and even admitted that in plain words in 11.22:

CHUCK: Amara’s been caged for billions of years, but y’know, she was always there. She had to be there. Y’know, yin and yang. Dark and light. DEAN: English, Chuck. CHUCK: There’s a harmony, a balance, in the universe. Light needs dark. Dark needs light. If you blow one of them up, then, I mean— LUCIFER: It wouldn’t be a good thing. CHUCK: It’d be really not a good thing. Like ‘end of reality’ not good. SAM: Okay, so we gift-wrap Amara. I mean, we got the team back together, so— CHUCK: Not quite. We’re still a few members short of the original line-up. LUCIFER: Yeah, first time it took the combined strength of me and my brothers to weaken Amara before Daddy-O finished her off. CHUCK: Even then it was close. Now with just the two of us, we’ll lose.

So what was all that with his promises to Cas that he alone could defeat the Darkness? I think he just wanted out of that cage and seized what was likely to be his only opportunity to do so. And then rather than rallying his forces to actually accomplish... anything... he did what he’s always done. Which was “whatever struck his fancy.”

Michael? Yeah, he’s on a mission. He hasn’t been standing in parks tossing breadcrumbs at seagulls. He hasn’t been lounging around on the throne of hell (or heaven, for that matter) idly passing the time until the lights went out. Michael’s not up against an adversary like Amara, he’s not hoping God will return and put things right, he’s not even looking to vanquish a specific enemy standing in his way (like Lucifer) to reshaping the world in his own desired image.

Michael is a doer. He’s out there doing.

Sure, he’s probably worried the Winchesters might prove to be an annoyance, like the organized resistance hunters proved to be in the AU, especially seeing as he doesn’t have an organized angel army at his command here. But he has effectively learned everything he believes possible from Dean. As he said, he owns Dean. He’s proven he has the power to force Dean to do whatever he wants, and we don’t yet know just how much he’s let Dean see of his own plans. How much of a trojan horse he’s implanted in Dean’s own memories of his time possessed.

My guess is that Bobo hasn’t forgotten the past. Nor has Dabb, with the overall direction of the show and not just this specific plotline.

Information can be a weapon, but disinformation can also be a weapon. Rather than wondering if Michael is all squished up hiding out inside Dean waiting to pop out and yell AHA! ‘TWAS I ALL ALONG! YOU CAN CALL ME DINKLE AND DESPAIRRRRRR! I think it’s going to be the specific memories Michael left Dean with, and the specific memories Michael may have excluded from Dean’s memories that will be at the heart of Dean’s actual trauma going forward.

I mean, unless they want the entire season to read like the most regrettable plot arc in the history of the show (ie  You have chanced upon a lineage with a long and proud tradition . . . And some unwanted notoriety. One of Europe's oldest families. The house of . . . Frankenstein. MUAHAHAHAHAHAH!) (yes I added the MUAHAHAHAHAHA! because seriously, wtf even) And I think Dabb is just as spiteful about all that bs as I am, based on how he’s been steering the show since he got his grubby little mitts on it.

Yes, Michael owns Dean. He demonstrated that nicely, planted the bait he wanted, and then flapped off to let Dean spin in circles over his loss of agency. Let the mind games begin, essentially. He knows he doesn’t need to keep a hand in Dean for the time being. He’s wound Dean up, pushed all the right buttons, and left him to flounder. Because he THINKS he knows Dean. He knows what Dean thinks of himself, the mindset he still had post 13.20:

Dean: You remember what happened the last time we had front row tickets to the Lucifer/Michael show? 'Cause I do. You died... and went to Hell. But see, this time, the apocalypse isn't looking for us. We're actually looking for it. I don't care what happens to me. I never really have. But I do care about what happens to my brother.

Dean doesn’t care what happens to him, which he proved when he said yes to Michael in the first place. I can only imagine that now Michael is COUNTING on this holding true, for whatever nugget of information he’s left Dean with now to play out.

So where is Michael right now? What is he doing that he felt he didn’t need his “Sword” for? I don’t even know that it’s relevant yet. Because right now our focus is back on Dean, and TFW trying to figure out what the hell is even going on right now.

[shade-without-color]

God of War Stolen Chapter 3: Ship to wreck

Note: Well not to be mistaken for the amazing Florence + The Machine song, we have a new chapter for Stolen which we will peel on how Atreus met Sif and how they took the famous ship Skidbladnir xD, anyway sorry for the slowness as I am working it eventually with a coda in mind between Sigyn and Atreus. So as usual, feedback and comments will be ensured.

The middle-aged Norm looked at the dangling head and squatted to his level "The council of the Aesir gods become a reanimated head.." Mimir nodded quietly "...Yes m'lady.. but I choose this at my own free will.." giving a resigned

"The smartest man alive..."  

Slowly the room becomes hushed "Now slung upon a mortal's hip.." as she watched over Atreus and slowly she slid unto Sigyn's side, flickering her hair back and forth "An Aesir Goddess who feared that she will betray her mistress.." Mimir puffed his cheeks about her cruel comments, but he resigned to that fact- he is in fact worried for Kratos' safely, as he could hear thumps and screams from Kratos as he swung the Blades of Chaos to nearby enemies. "No offence, all-seeing one, but you did not see what the lad is capable of..." He could recall the showdown of Baldur and the duo, in fact, that Atreus could summon The World Serpent was, in fact, incredible, as he could feel the heady breath of the serpent devouring. There is no denying of his budding powers.

"Come by trickster..." a haunting voice rippled through the walls, and somehow the older Norn weaved the cut locks of Atreus into a shimmering bracelet. At that moment he has seen flashes of his father falling back and forth in the spaces of realms. Another in a flash, he fought the waves of draugers and hel-walkers in lighting speed. His breath all haggard from the fight.

The youngest norm spun both of the locks together into the tumultuous sea, and suddenly it morphed into crashing waves and suddenly a ship came over the mirage."Capable.." Atreus saw a small boy holding the front, tiding through the never-ending sea. Mimir gasped "A ship lad..." seagulls cawed in the air and at that moment he saw fishermen pulling fish from their nets. However, the set is gone, as she folded it into an origami. "Not just any ship Mimir, goddess, and trickster.. one that fits in a pocket.."

The Norn took a broken root from the World Tree and tossed it unto the air at one of Odin's ravens. Somehow the caw of the raven dying cause Atreus shivers down his spine. "A spear that could hit at ever target, no matter if the user throws it inaccurately..”

Mimir teased slightly “Well anything else..”

“Not your concern head, for the trickster will know its secrets..” The Norm looked at Sigyn quietly, as she cut a lock from her long tresses, and there she saw herself running into the lake, noticing a drifting body swaying back and forth. “He will figure, after all, he slips under your hands..” Quietly she spun the string which she watched herself dropping down her spear to the calling of one of the maidens.

“Hurry we found a body floating by a stream.." Without hesitation, she took off her thin dress and jumped unto the lake. She heaved, watching the hands nearly clawing that body to the depths. There she rose the lands shouting frantically “She needs the lady... She needs the lady…” A myriad of sounds and images blurred Atreus’ mind.Atreus focused on a soft expression of the lady “Sigyn leave us..” slowly soft hymns came over him and slowly he fell asleep, whilst looking at Sigyn panting frantically.

“Will she be well..”

“I am sure of it, these lands are blessed to heal her…”

It sounded like Mother, as she hushed the figure “You are about to wake him..”

“Sigyn get her some clothes, she will be modest in our lands…”

“You slept well..” That firmer voice came by. Atreus groaned a little as he tried to rise up in his female form. For that moment he could hear his teeth shattering back and forth “Take it easy my love..” as she wrapped her in a tunic. Somehow she wrapped her golden hair unto him and sang a soft song "May I know what is your name.."

Sigyn glanced at another flashback, her watching Sif get her hair combed by her new ‘companion’, which she named the stranger Ase. How her feet kicked at the edge of the lake back and forth, Sif giggled quietly as she watched Sigyn wrung her hair “Well that is your hero, she swam over after one of my handmaidens called out in a panic..” His fingers barely buried over her locks, there is something beautiful about it. Sigyn bit her tongue angrily “So it was you, Ase... I can’t... I won’t forgive you…” The norm smiled pensively “All this time, a kind act become savage, are you willing to be on the trickster’s side..” Sigyn heaved slightly as she looked at Atreus holding the ship “I do not know, all-seeing m’lady…”

“I do what is righteous..”

“You follow the path of the trickster, to seek what is lost..” The Norn cackled quietly, as she twisted her cut lock into the bracelet. “And now you will be bounded for him in all eternity, in many lifetimes... you can not deny it..”

Atreus watched her gaze softened slightly “Well I apologize whatever happens to your friend..” Sigyn held her breath slightly “We better move to find your ship…” Mimir glanced at both pensively “I sense that m’lady you may have some beef with the lad, but we are running out of time…”

“For what…” Sigyn protested slightly “I suppose…it is something selfish…” Atreus could feel his bile piling up to his stomach “It is something grave…Mimir…” as he pointed to the head “wait for I, mostly, my father..” Sigyn recalled a burly man fighting off all the evils of the realms “So be it..”  

“Come this way..”Quickly Atreus and Mimir ran with Sigyn, and they watched Sigyn shouted a spell similar to Freya to unveil the roots from the room. “By now I can see we sorta settle our differences m’lady.." Sigyn planted the Bifrost quietly, whilst Atreus watched the branches grow sinuously back and forth “You should have taken the dwarves’ path come to think about it..”

It was all but wishful thinking, Mimir thought quietly. His concern is where to find a ship to get the Norns’ telling about Kratos. Atreus glanced at the towers, and somehow he grinned quietly “I think I know where..” Atreus turned the wheel to Niflheim. Sigyn raised an eyebrow “You have been there..” watching the colours changed slightly to an olive colour “Mostly with father, apparently I heard from Sindri that Ivaldi tried to harness its power of the mist, but Odin was not happy about that, hence it is cursed with poison..”

Soon a rush of energy came over them. “I think I might be sick..”

Once it landed onto the right tower, roots slowly formed the path, which Mimir shudder slightly as Atreus pushed the door out to be greeted by a pungent aroma “I hate this damn realm..” Sigyn covered her mouth with a shawl “No surprise at all..” as she could feel her skin nearly burn in this land. Atreus quickly passed Mimir’s head to Sigyn “What are you going to do lad…”

“Leaving you under Sigyn…” Atreus ran over to the mist, calling out his name, as he transformed into a falcon.

“Be careful Atreus..”

Sigyn rolled her tongue slightly “A..Atreu…sss.." That is an unusual name, but she felt a strange strength in his Mimir watched her reaction of Sigyn softening slightly "That is the lad’s name… I know, not of this world” Mimir mummer pensively, watching the speckle slowly receded to the fogs. "Apparently the lad... I mean Atreus told me a story why his father named him after ..." Mimir swallowed his words pensively "Never mind, we must keep vigilant, after all, Odin's eyes not only follow us but also your lady's fellows, what you did is risky..." Sigyn nodded slightly, for she could only hear muffled screams in the distance. "We can only be watchers over the realm."

"Will Atreus be back.."

"I am sure he will.."

Before they could reassure each other on Atreus' safety, Mimir heaved calmly "I think we have company.." as he glanced the drawer cawing at the others. "Get ready m'lady.."

Atreus indeed brought over the chaos to Niflheim onto the world

Atreus slowly landed on the grounds, with his claws becoming feet grounded to the grass, and his arms tensed as he held his bow calmly. He swallowed quietly. Stay focused Loki stay focused.  He was then afraid of the fog, without his father's guidance, only flexing his bow under his cue. A guttural howl and a ghostly figure from the shadows breathed over his neck. He took a shimmering blue arrow and shot it calmly.

A wave of enemies came over Atreus, and he quickly plucked his arrows.

Without hesitation, he shot them one by one.

At that moment light seems to bathe the ground, lighting up the sea of corpses. Atreus' body ached, as he held the side of his stomach tightly, as he dragged himself into the shinning chest. Atreus pulled up his shoulders and lifted the case. Blood from his mouth dripped onto the treasures, where he grappled a small ship figurine. He smiled happily, recalling his happy childhood days, playing with the toys carved gently by his father's hands, imaging stories of mighty battles between the gods and heroes. And soon he fell into the weariness until his mind flashed on Mimir and Sigyn. Sigyn screaming loudly as she sliced the heads of the enemies and Mimir shouting warnings to Sigyn of the dangers ahead.  His father screaming his lungs off, his face splattered with the sizzling poison from the tazlewyrm, and the drauger soon arching over the shoulder blade. The Norns mumming him about his dwindling life.

Atreus woke up slightly to the scream of the drauger, quietly he transformed himself into a crow and gouged its eyes and quickly took the ship and hid it in his pocket. The mist indeed caused him some trouble.

"Hello" A voice echoed over the distance as Sigyn wiped her mouth from stabbing the monsters. And Mimir panting slightly "Well I said you must have learnt from Lady Sif in fighting, you are ferocious as the Valkyries themselves including a certain.." Sigyn hissed slightly "Shut up Mimir.." Atreus fumbled quietly to the ground, his voice beaming with joy "We are done with the first task.." His words, out of breath. and slowly he glanced over Sigyn who bit her mouth slightly. His gaze drifted to her Sigyn's calmness.  Sigyn stared at him coldly and gave him a slap "I suppose you and Mimir liked to face danger.."

"To a certain extent, yes, you should see his father, I mean he will beat the bollocks out of..." Atreus hushed him angrily "Shut up Mimir, I cannot tell about you know.." Mimir held back slightly "Sorry little brother...we better hurry" He understood Atreus' fear over Sigyn knowing his true heritage. Quickly the moved over to the realm travel room. And somehow Atreus planted Sigyn's Bifrost over the keyhole "Anyway, I suppose we could bring it to the Norns to help you out.."

Sigyn pouted as she took "Maybe we should check if it is legitimate with.."  as she felt the carvings of the ship with her fingers. "I think I know a pair of dwarves who would know such things like that and at most verify them.."

"Are you referring to Sindri and Brok.." Atreus' eyes widened slightly " they can help!" Mimir held his tongue out slightly "That can be possible but in that circumstances, they will never...

"Welcome an Aesir goddess" Sigyn added quietly "I know, we did bad on our part but please.." Atreus held Sigyn's hand for reassurance and it eased her heart. "Trust us, Brok and Sindri are families to us..."

Sigyn withhold her tears. What is that drive for Atreus to do something so drastic, as to steal her mistress' locks? and yet smile amidst adversity. "I promise to beseech you Sigyn." and quietly he opened the door, to hear the fires crackling, and the pounding of Brok's hammer. A rough voice came over the distance "Have any luck finding your pop!"

"Not much Brok.." as Atreus took out a small ship from his tunic "Long story..but it may be the key to finding my father.."

Tag List

@atreus-kratos-mythology

@seapandaftw

@space-lesbo

@hexxous

@iidrils

@toffeetheimmortalmonster

@whifflewaffles

@slightlyobessedwith-ships

@9imagine-warlock9

[lilacmoon83]

Dreaming Out Loud

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 61: Welcome to Storybrooke, Pt 2

After leaving the lake the night before, Hades surveyed for the richest neighborhood in Storybrooke, which naturally brought him to Mifflin Street. Since Deimos had been imprisoned, his mansion was vacant, so the God of the Underworld decided to take up residence. He had already magically redecorated to his liking and had spoken little to Hermes since the confrontation with Persephone and her family just hours ago. Or non-confrontation rather. Hermes was still extremely puzzled by Hades attitude and actions. And the God of the Underworld didn't seem to feel the need to share his reasons. Which annoyed and frustrated Hermes, obviously.

He had taken big risks in going down this path. Zeus likely knew of his betrayal by now and he was certain that if he stepped foot anywhere near Olympus right now, he'd be struck with one of the superior God's infamous thunderbolts.

"I suppose you are wondering about my actions at the lake," Hades finally said, interrupting his internal thought process.

"Now that you mention it...why did you let them live? I thought the whole point of making Persephone pay was to kill that which she loves most," Hermes answered. He smirked.

"I could have chosen to strike last night and together, we might have even overpowered Persephone and killed that precious little Charming family. But where is the fun in that?" Hades questioned.

"Then you do plan to make them pay?" Hermes questioned with a smirk.

"Depends on your definition of pay," Hades retorted vaguely, as he gazed out the window of the home. It was so good to be in the world of the living again.

"Did you really revive Persephone's mortal Prince?" Hermes asked. He smirked.

"I did," he answered.

"Why?" Hermes questioned.

"For the fun of it," Hades answered.

"I...I don't understand," Hermes replied.

"Therein lies the beauty of it. You see, Persephone doesn't understand either and she will labor over why I did it or if I even did it. And when she eventually comes face to face with him again, she may be surprised at what she finds," Hades said cryptically.

"Still lost," Hermes said, as the King of the Underworld chuckled.

"Let's just say that her precious Elijah has been in the river a very long time and that has an effect on a person, even just the soul of a person. We'll leave it at that for now," Hades stated. Hermes mulled that over, as Hades continued to gaze out the window at the little gem known as Storybrooke.

~*~

Regina gazed out Henry's bedroom window, as the town went about it's normal routine that morning. She hadn't slept at all since the confrontation at the lake with Hades. It hadn't been much of a confrontation at all though and certainly had not ended as she had envisioned. In her mind, it was supposed to end with her enemies swept away and her bringing Henry home to sleep in his own bed. But none of that had transpired and worse, Henry had arrived to witness her part in Hades arrival in town. She would never forget the look in his eyes when she was forced to tell him she was involved in Snow's kidnapping. She clutched one of his pillows to her chest and inhaled his scent from it.

If only he could understand why she had done all of it. But he was just too young to understand that she just wanted him to be happy and she was doing all this for him, even if he couldn't see it. Her own mother had once done the same for her and she hadn't been able to see it either at the time. But Cora had been right about power. It was the only way she could have everything. But without Hades making her enemies pay, she had no idea how to get that power back, short of outright killing her enemies. Even with a sneak attack, she'd likely never successfully pull anything like that off. She sighed and decided to get dressed, before going to her vault. All of her mother's things were there and it was time to face the painful task of going through them.

~*~

"What was the call about?" David asked, once they were outside the diner.

"Someone said they spotted Hook down at the Harbor," Emma replied.

"So he made it back here from New York...without his ship?" David asked. She nodded.

"Yeah...and I'd like to know how. He doesn't strike me as the type that navigates land as well as he does sea," Emma replied. He looked at her.

"Do you think he had help?" he asked. She shrugged.

"Possibly and I have some other questions for him," she replied.

"Yeah, he has a pair of handcuffs with his name on them," he agreed, as Snow exited the diner and caught up to them.

"Hey...are you okay?" he asked, as she put her arms around him.

"I am...I was just wondering if maybe you'd be okay with the Mayor coming along on this call?" she questioned. He smiled and kissed her hair.

"You did say you didn't want to let me out of your sight," she added, as she bit her bottom lip. He grinned.

"I did say that. It's definitely okay with me. What about you, Sheriff?" he asked. Emma smiled.

"Of course," she replied, but then turned to them.

"But can you guys like promise not to make out and stuff?" she asked. He chuckled.

"We'll try," he said, as he gazed at Snow fondly. Emma rolled her eyes playfully at them, before she continued on, with them following, hand in hand.

~*~

Over at the Inn, they entered the common room and Tamara took a look around.

"Wow...it looks like this place hasn't been redecorated since 1980," she commented, taking in the dated wallpaper and furniture.

"Yeah...you're closer than you think," Neal quipped. She turned and looked at him.

"Okay Neal...what's going on? And what was all that at breakfast?" she questioned, as Henry watched his father shift nervously. He thought about telling her himself, but he figured she'd just laugh and think it was cute. He had gotten a lot of that from people before the curse was broken.

"Okay yeah...there's something I need to tell you. Here's the thing. I'm not from here. I'm from a place called the Enchanted Forest," he said. He decide maybe just ripping off the band-aid would be the way to go and expected her laugh when it came.

"I'm being serious," he said, silencing her, as he grabbed the book from Henry's bag.

"Here...go ahead," he said, as they sat down. She gave him a disbelieving look and then opened the book with an annoyed expression.

"These are fairy tales," she replied.

"And they're real, all right? They're more than real...they're history. They're my history...basically the history of everyone in this town," he said, as he flipped through the pages.

"See this little boy?" he asked, as he pointed to the book.

"That's me," he added.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tamara questioned with an angry edge in her tone.

"I'm trying to be honest with you," he replied. She closed the book and stood up.

"If you wanted to be honest, you would just tell me what this is really about," she shot back.

"What the hell does that mean?" he asked, as he stood up.

"Oh I don't know, cute blondes? Mother of your child?" she replied.

"Emma?" he asked in disbelief.

"I'm not a fool, Neal. I saw the way you two look at each other, even if you try to hide it. That other couple was looking at each other like that all through breakfast, except that it was to a level that was purely nauseating," she complained.

"Grams and Gramps are just like that though. They're true love," Henry chimed in.

"Grams and Gramps…" she snorted, as she took Neal by the arm and pulled him out of earshot.

"Those people can't be his grandparents!" she hissed.

"I know it looks impossible…" Neal started to say, but she cut him off.

"No Neal...it is impossible! But your kid believes it and obviously his Mom encourages it!" she said.

"Hold on...Emma is a good Mom. And I know all of this is a mess, but if you let me explain, I can," he pleaded. But she shook her head.

"You just defended her! That's what this is about!" she accused.

"It's not like that," he refuted.

"Really? Because I think it is. If you want to be with her, Neal, you could've just told me instead of making up crap to force me away," she hissed.

"I don't want to force you away! That's why I'm telling you all this! I'm trying to be one hundred percent honest with you about my past," he argued. But she shook her head.

"No...you still have feelings for Emma and you are even indulging your son's fantasies about that couple being his fairy tale grandparents. Hell, Emma introduced them as her parents, which makes her delusional," Tamara spat.

"Hey...it's not like that," Neal defended and she shook her head.

"I'm sure...but here's the thing. When you're ready to be honest with me about yourself, your feelings, then come find me," Tamara said, glancing at Henry.

"And when you're ready to get your son out of this obviously unhealthy situation, I'll be ready to help you find a good family attorney," she added, as she stormed out. Neal blew out a breath and rubbed the back of his head with his hand.

"That didn't go very well," Henry commented. He sighed.

"No...it didn't. I think the only way she's gonna believe in all this is if she sees it with her own eyes," he replied.

"That's it! We can show her magic and then she has to believe!" Henry exclaimed.

"Whoa...not yet. There is no way she's ready for that. I need to talk to her again first, but right now, I think it's best if we let her cool off for a while," he said. Henry shrugged and they went back over to the diner side.

~*~

Emma arrived at the Harbor with Snow and David behind her. But they didn't see the Jolly Roger docked anywhere.

"Did he leave?" David wondered, but Snow looked up into the sky and saw seagulls circling peculiarly above them.

"No...I don't think so," she said, as she grabbed some sand from a bucket on the dock and tossed it seemingly into the water. Except it didn't hit the water first and rather something solid they couldn't see before them.

"Captain Hook has a cloaking device for his ship?" Emma asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Probably something Cora gave him, but I bet you could remove it," David replied.

"Me? I'm not even sure how to begin to do something like that," she said. Snow and David exchanged a glance and then looked back at their daughter.

"You just need to feel it...like you did when we fought Cora. You put up that protection spell and you can break through this cloak," David stated.

"He's right...we believe in you, Emma. Now believe in yourself," Snow added. Emma took a deep breath and stretched her hands out, as she concentrated her magic. A burst of white light erupted from her hands and hit the shield in front of them. It rippled and burst, suddenly revealing the Jolly Roger before them. Hook looked startled, as the three of them boarded the ship.

"Hello Hook…" Emma greeted. He smirked.

"Swan," he leered, as he let his eyes roam appreciatively over her.

"Oh this guy is going to get under my skin really fast, isn't he?" David murmured to his wife and she winced.

"Probably," she agreed, as they followed their daughter. As per usual, Snow had her hand hooked on his elbow and his hand rested on her hip opposite him. It was not unusual for them, but after what they had been through lately, the need to be touching always was almost as necessary as breathing for them now.

"To what do I owe this...pleasure?" he asked, as his eyes raked over her.

"How'd you get back?" Emma asked bluntly.

"I'm a pirate...I find my way around," he replied.

"Yeah...at sea, but there's no boats that are unaccounted for, which means you got here on land. You can't drive and no buses come here. It's not exactly easy to find," she said. She was still miffed about that. Neal would have had to give Tamara pretty good directions for her to find her way on the winding back roads of Maine or so she assumed. Come to think of it, even if Greg Mendell's claims that he veered off course, because he was drunk, didn't really add up all that well either. And she hated when things didn't add up. There was more going on here, but she had little proof. If she could just find that one loose thread though, she knew that one pull, and everything would unravel. But that loose thread wasn't obvious at the time, so she was bound and determined to find it.

"Buses?" Hook asked in bewilderment. Emma rolled her eyes.

"See, you don't even know what a bus is and I know you can't drive. So start talking now," she ordered.

"Or what?" he goaded.

"Or you can go to jail," Emma replied.

"And what crime have I committed?" Hook questioned. She looked at him incredulously.

"Well, stabbing Gold with your poisoned Hook comes to mind," David interjected. The pirate smirked.

"Oh, I rather believe I was doing all the realms a great service by ridding us of the Crocodile. Pity it didn't stick," Hook retorted.

"The bigger question is why would Prince Charming befriend such a being? Doesn't he operate askew to your strong moral compass?" the pirate goaded.

"Perhaps Prince Charming is farcical title, after all. Maybe you are no better than him...or me," he leered. Emma was about to retort, but shouldn't have been surprised when her mother beat her to it.

"Oh, I can assure you, Captain, that my husband is so much better than you. The fact that you even have the gall to suggest that he's on your lowly level is laughable," Snow interjected.

"And trust me...there is nothing farcical about his title. If Prince Charming really is a concept, as this world suggests, then he is the embodiment of that title," she continued defensively. Hook smirked, letting his eyes rake over the raven haired beauty this time.

"I see where your daughter gets her...gumption," he leered, as his tongue poked out on his lower lip. David clenched his fist, wanting nothing more than to deck this smarmy pirate.

"Okay...that's enough, Hook. You're under arrest and you'll thank me for it, because the other option is to just let Dad tear you apart," Emma replied.

"Worried Charming? I've had many a man's wife, you know," Hook boasted, as Emma cuffed him. He chuckled.

"I knew it...you just can't wait to tie me up, can you love?" he leered.

"How about it...shall we go below deck and have some fun?" Hook leered and then hissed in pain, as Emma made sure the handcuffs pinched him. He chuckled.

"Our daughter isn't going anywhere with you," Snow said and he looked at her.

"I knew it...you'd rather have me all to yourself, right love?" he leered. But he wasn't expecting Snow to laugh at him.

"Are you so deluded by your own ego that you think I could be swayed away from my husband by the likes of you?" she shot back.

"Many a married woman has, love," he leered.

"I am not your love. I'm his love," she snapped back.

"I take my marriage vows very seriously, Captain and the true love I share with my husband is obviously something far beyond your comprehension. There is no man, least of all you, that could lure me from his arms and your attempts are disgusting," she continued. The look on David's face was as smug as any Emma had ever seen and she smirked at the pirate.

"Congratulations, you pissed off my Mom. Probably the sweetest, kindest, most forgiving woman I know. That's quite a feat," Emma goaded, as she marched him off the ship.

"Ugh...it's beyond me how any woman would fall for any of those lines or that smarmy smirk," Snow complained, as they followed their daughter. But he stopped her when they stepped back onto the dock.

"So...level with me. You don't find him even a little aesthetically pleasing?" David asked. She smirked and smoothed her hands inside his open leather jacket, along his chest.

"Why would I when all this is mine?" she asked, as her eyes looked him up and down. He grinned.

"Are you flirting with me, Mrs. Nolan?" he purred. She grinned back and tugged him closer by his collar.

"What do you think, handsome?" she purred back, as their lips met passionately.

"Guys...you promised not to make out," Emma whined. Their lips parted and they chuckled together.

"I think we promised that we'd try," Snow corrected. Emma huffed and rolled her eyes, before prodding Hook into the back seat of the patrol car.

"Twenty-eight and she still rolls her eyes at us like she did when she was a teenager," he joked. She smiled and kissed him quickly again. She then frowned at the prospect of sitting in back with Hook. He sighed.

"Take the front with Em. I'll sit in back with his smarminess," David relented. She smirked and kissed his cheek.

"I'll make it up to later," she promised with a sultry look. He smirked.

"Can't wait for that," he said, as they got in the car and Emma drove off for the station.

~*~

"Well, Mr. Mendell, I'd say your recovery is nothing short of miraculous, considering the internal bleeding you came in with," Whale stated, as he scribbled on the patient's chart.

"So I can go?" he asked.

"I don't see any reason you can't be discharged later today. Physically you check out fine, though I need you to take it easy. But if your blood tests come back okay, then you can be on your way," Whale replied encouragingly.

"Thank you Doctor," Greg replied, as the doctor hung his chart back up and left. Greg waited to make sure he was gone and then dialed "her".

"Hey...it's me. Are you here yet?" he asked.

"I just got here this morning. When are you going to be released?" Tamara asked.

"Later today...so I'll be getting a room at the Inn. Then I can finally search this town properly for my father," he whispered into the phone.

"Good...I met the boy and his family. The stories that we were told are apparently true," Tamara responded.

"Yes...I've been getting the same thing and more than just fairy tales that are supposedly real," Greg mentioned.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I'll explain more later, but there is definitely strange things going on in this town and I'm going to find proof," he replied.

"We both are. I went off on Neal and acted like his entire story was bogus. Now I'm sure he'll make the mistake of showing me what I want to see and then we'll have the proof that this town is diseased with magic," she said.

"When are you going to break it off with him? Now that we're here, we don't need him anymore," Greg hissed.

"Yes, we do. I promise it will be soon though," she refuted. He sighed.

"Fine...can I at least see you tonight?" Greg asked.

"Neal will probably be spending time with the kid. Come to my room around dinner time. I'll tell Neal that I need some time to think and opt out of dinner with him and the Nolans," she said.

"Great, see you then and we can go over the next step...among other things," he leered, as their call ended.

~*~

Zelena was a few weeks into her stint as Kelly West, a nobody citizen of Storybrooke and she had bided her time, watching and waiting in the shadows. She was getting a bit impatient, but for all she knew, Snow White was already with child and just in the early days. Soon enough, she was certain the Princess would be sporting a baby bump that would be her key to getting everything she wanted.

"Is this seat taken?" a voice asked and she looked up from her place on the park bench. Her mouth was slightly ajar, as she was surprised to see none other than Hades himself standing there. But then she smirked.

"So...you found a way here," she stated.

"No thanks to you," he replied, as he sat down next to her.

"Well, you were going to stand in my way of getting what I want and I'm not going let anyone do that, even the God of the Underworld," she spat in return.

"So it seems. Because of your betrayal, I had to rely on my minion to use the blood of my step-daughter to get me here," he replied.

"And yet she still lives. I thought you'd try to murder the poor thing the moment you had the chance," Zelena stated. He chuckled.

"Why Zelena...don't tell me you care about the well being of Snow White?" he questioned. She scoffed.

"Of course not...I just need her alive, until she spawns another brat, that is," she refuted.

"Then you haven't given up your foolhardy plan to travel back in time?" he questioned.

"It's not foolhardy! It's the only way I can have everything!" Zelena refuted.

"Really? You'd actually want to be raised by the likes of your mother Cora and King Leopold. To me, it sounds like you dodged a bullet there," Hades quipped.

"If it means that my sister won't exist and mother will give me everything, then yes! At least I will be appreciative of her efforts, unlike Regina," Zelena spat.

"And yet...you don't seem overly sad about your mother's passing," he said. She scoffed.

"Helping Regina got her that fate. It will be different for her with me," Zelena responded.

"Zelena...I encourage you to give up this conquest and think of a new one. One where we can rule together and sweep away all our enemies," he tempted. She smirked.

"Sorry...I have no interest in being your Queen. Besides, I thought that title was still taken?" she questioned.

"Persephone can barely stand the sight of me and she's far too absorbed with her Charming little family to be my proper Queen," he replied.

"Well...that's your problem. No one is standing my way and it will not be long until Snow White is with child, considering that she and the Prince can't keep their hands off each other," she said. He smirked.

"Yes...giving her that potion to nullify her birth control was a nice touch. But I still must warn against this path, my dear Zelena," he said.

"And why is that?" she asked.

"Quite simply, it is one offense that my brother will not stand for or let go unpunished," he warned. She gave him a skeptical look.

"Zeus may have broken most of his own rules and sleeps with anything that moves, but this is one aspect of magic even he hasn't tampered with. It's expressly forbidden in the most severe sense," Hades warned.

"Is that supposed to scare me?" she questioned.

"It should," he snapped.

"What if I could promise you a better life?" she questioned.

"Not even time travel can change my banishment to the Underworld," he refuted.

"Perhaps not...but it would give you a chance to do things differently. As much as you express your love for me, I know that you will always hold a torch for Persephone. What if you could go back and with a kinder hand...you might earn her love in return," she tempted. He looked at her, but shook his head.

"I'm not sure that's possible," he refused.

"Oh, I don't know...think about it. What if you had spared her mortal Prince that day and forgave her indiscretion? What if you promised to help her raise her lover's child and even let her be with her mortal lover half the year?" Zelena asked.

"And why would I do that?" he asked. She smirked.

"Think about it...what do you Eva and the northern Kingdom would think if they had to deal with the scandal of their Prince having Persephone as his consort?" she asked. He smirked.

"They would cast him out...unless he agreed to marry for the good of his Kingdom," Hades realized.

"Which would most certainly sour any love between them. And what do you think would be their opinion of dear little Snow White?" Zelena questioned.

"She'd be labeled a bastard child in the royal court...she'd be lucky if she was allowed to be a servant in her father's Kingdom. And since she's a girl...she'd be more of a slave than anything," Hades said. She smirked.

"And then you could provide salvation for her beloved child. She would adore you for it...and eventually love you. You might even be able to eventually convince her that all the strife in her life is Zeus' fault. Persephone would easily sway the other Gods to her cause and then...you would rule Olympus with her by your side," Zelena replied. He chuckled.

"Oh Zelena...I almost forgot how devious your mind is," he said. She smirked.

"Then you'll help me?" she asked. He smirked.

"Time Travel...Zeus will hate that," he mused and then looked at her.

"You have yourself a partner in crime, my dear," he agreed. She smirked.

"Good...I'll even play the villain so you can pretend to disapprove of my plans and side with the heroes. That will win points with Persephone too. All we need now is...for Snow White and Prince Charming to conceive another product of true love," she stated.

"Well, like you said, I doubt it will be long with the way those two look at each other, if it hasn't already happened," he replied, as they shared a devious smiled. So far, his visit to Storybrooke had yielded unexpected, but very interesting results. If they could pull it off...then perhaps time travel was the answer to him getting everything he truly wanted as well…

[sigilseer]

A Weirdling Bestiary: Part 1- Beasts of City and Suburbia

Some notes to start off with-

This is all a part of my personal UPG and world-view, which is a culmination of my individual experiences, upbringing, influences, and research. Although much of this personal mythology is based off of the biology and behaviors of the creatures in question, you may have different associations and feelings about these animals, and that’s totally ok. 

There are some animals commonly found in cities and suburban areas which have been left out of this section (like foxes, bats, deer, rabbits, snakes, toads, and all insects) because I’ll be covering them later in other chapters.   

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

~Birds~

Blue Jay- Blue jays are fierce, clever and have complex social lives. They have deep ties with oak trees, which are regarded in several cultures as the Tree of Life, the king of trees, and sacred to many gods of thunder, lightning, and sky. They are excellent communicators, both vocally and physically, and can imitate the calls of other birds. 

Even though they’re quite common, blue jay behavior remains a bit of a mystery to those who study them. The beautiful blue color for which they are known is not a true pigment, but in fact an optical effect of light scattering within the cell structure of their feathers. They are birds of magic, illusion, mystery, and complex familial ties, and are emblematic of the element air and the realm of the sky as well as bright, lively daytime energy. For offerings, give them acorns. 

Canada Goose- Geese are the mortal enemies of business people and all Suits. They travel in formation and are loyal to their mates and comrades. As such, they are good animal guides for anyone who identifies strongly as part of a group or community and those who function as a team. Goose magic is great for sticking it to The Man. As they migrate in spring and fall, they also represent transitions and cycles. Admire them from afar and stay the fuck away from their babies if you don’t want to die a very painful death.

Crow- If you are outside, it is unlikely you are out of sight of a crow. Fittingly, insight and observation are among their primary associations. Crows are smart, mischievous, and extremely common. Because they’re ubiquitous pretty much everywhere, they’re a reminder of the constant presence of magic in the world. 

Although each crow is very much an individual, they live in family groups and cooperate with and look out for those within their groups. At the same time, they regularly engage in bitter rivalries and battles with crows from other families. In spite of that, multiple families will come together and roost at night outside of the breeding season to socialize, network, and learn. Theirs is an entire society that exists alongside our own- both Other and familiar.

Do not take the presence of crows for granted. They are the little bits of the Other-realm that fly about by day. They are wonderful sources of magic, wisdom, and humor, and should be treated with respect. They’ll remember if you wrong them. They’ll remember those who were good to them. They are always watching. Crows are favored familiars among practitioners of the occult and any who seek to understand and manipulate reality at a higher level, as well as any interested in death magic or hedge witchery. 

Duck- Although their primary elemental association is water, ducks unite the elemental realms of water, earth, and air due to their ability to move through each. Ducks represent family (particularly parent/child relationships), adaptability, cheerfulness, emotional connections with others and at times- obliviousness. 

If you are having difficulty adapting to change and embracing new circumstances, or if you’re having trouble with family, ducks are helpful guides. They spend much of their time floating along on streams, totally comfortable half-submerged in that state of continuous change and renewal. They can help you learn to go with the flow.

If you wish to give offerings to ducks, choose cut up grapes, corn, peas, seeds, and oats- bread is bad for them and their environment and therefor bad for you and your workings.

House Sparrow- Although wild animals, these are birds whose natural habitat is outside of, on, and around man-made environments. They are ever-present wherever there are people, and tend to be quite tame. Their energy is significant because it’s so closely tied to our own, these birds having spread with us and our civilization as we’ve advanced across the world. 

If you wish to gain a connection to nature by feeding a wild bird from your hands, this species is a good place to start. Due to their intrinsic and obvious ties to the home, they can be regarded as home-guardians and fitting familiars to hearth and cottage witches. House sparrows are social, enjoy singing to one another, and will flock with other types of birds, and so embody a spirit of friendship, acceptance and joy.

Hummingbird- Hummingbirds are largely solitary and territorial little creatures. They’re highly intelligent and have exceptional memories, and the largest brain-to-body ratio of any bird. They are insanely fast and are able to hover in place and  maneuver almost instantaneously in any direction. They groom themselves meticulously, build exquisite, tiny nests of lichen and moss, and feed mostly on sugary nectar. They come in a dizzying array of beautiful and jewel-like colors and will  fearlessly defend what’s theirs. 

Hummingbird energy is fiery, valiant, joyous, vibrant, individualistic, and creative. As an autistic witch, I relate strongly to hummingbirds. They make great animal guides for creative people, introverts, bold individualists, a range of people on the spectrum of neurodiversity, and anyone who wants to bring some flash and vibrancy to their lives. 

Mourning Dove- Mourning doves are fairy birds. With their muted pastel and iridescent feathers, melancholy calls, and lifelong partnerships, they embody magic, romance and devotion. They have strong ties with Aphrodite and love goddess archetypes in general, and their feathers are excellent for use in love and beauty spells. You may be blessed in love if a pair nests close to your home. If you wish to bring their energies into your life, offer them seeds, soft words, and safe places to build their nests.  

Pigeon- Pigeons are place guardians, observers, and navigators. Pigeons Know The Way. Seek out locations where pigeons gather (those which are not obvious sources of food), for you can be assured there’s magic to those places. The gratitude of pigeons is a wellspring of magical power to be drawn from, so be both respectful and wary of Pigeon People. Pigeon magic is of finding things, of home, love, and attuning with the spirits of places. If you wish to bond with the spirit of your city or town, carry pigeon offerings like seeds or other morsels, and be especially kind to any one-footed pigeons, should you spot them.

Seagull- Gulls are bold, opportunistic, and equally comfortable in sky, sea, or urban sprawl.They’ll snatch food from the mouths of larger animals, grab it from the hands of humans, and are even known to steal milk from lactating seals. In spite of many unflattering nicknames, they’re graceful and adaptive creatures. They are most iconic when pictured in the liminal space of the horizon- between sea and sky. 

From gulls, one can learn to make the most of what they have and to take nothing for granted. They can teach us to soar above all limitations and to fly along the currents of life’s events and emotions with ease, transcending all worldly concerns. They make good animal guides for beach bums, dreamy sea witches, and cerebral literary folk.  

Starling- Starlings are gregarious, social, communicative, and can imitate human speech and a variety of other sounds. They live in huge flocks and defend their nests fiercely. They represent the power of social ties and group identities and the safety in numbers. 

Interestingly, starlings wouldn’t even exist in North America if it weren’t for a group of Shakespeare enthusiasts who released a flock of a hundred in New York, with the desire for America to have every species of bird ever mentioned by their beloved playwright. In a way, they can be seen as representations of the power of dreams and fantasy to reshape the real world. Their feathers have a multicolored sheen and their eggs are a vivid, beautiful blue. Starlings are fitting animal guides for outgoing, sociable, extroverted, and theatrical types.  

Tufted titmouse- These cute, inquisitive little mohawked birds are known to remain in their territory in pairs and small family groups throughout the year, hoard food to prepare for the harsher seasons, and to curiously look in on human habitations through windows. They make comfortable homes for themselves in tree holes, and often line their soft nests with the hair and fur of other animals. They’re another excellent bird familiar for those focused on the keeping of their hearth. Their energy can assist in making one’s house truly feel like a home, and in making sure you never lose interest in what’s going on in the world around you. 

~Mammals~

Coyote- Coyotes are monogamous and tend to mate for life. Originally from plains and deserts, they’ve since spread and are now thriving in many urban areas across North and Central America. They’re omnivorous and opportunistic feeders that eat everything from carrion to bugs to berries. Coyote has figured prominently in the mythologies of many cultures across North America, in a vast array of roles. From savior of humanity, to teacher and trickster, to coward, to inventor of death, it’s hard to find an archetypal role which coyote has not, at some point, embodied. As such, their element seems to be chaos- both harmonious and discordant. 

The prevailing essence of coyote within the collective unconscious is that of humor, intelligence, carnality, and expression. They have a broad array of vocalizations, many of which sound eery, otherworldly, and almost fae-like. They are ideal animal guides for waste witches, desert druids, and punks. 

Opossum-  Possums are the ultimate survivors. They’re omnivorous, so they can live off a broad range of foods. They have opposable thumbs and prehensile tails, and are equally at home in trees, on the ground, in burrows, and in man-made and man-altered environments. They are highly resistant to a variety of poisons and toxins as well as rabies, and manage to rid themselves of most ticks and parasites. When threatened, they play dead and exude disgusting scents, repelling threats with minimal effort. Females have bifurcated vaginas, and males have dual-pronged penises, making them interesting symbols of duality and taking different paths in life. 

As they are nocturnal and often nomadic, they make good animal guides for people who travel off the beaten path in life. Mystics, drifters, and anyone living off the grid or involved in nightlife would do well to consider possum their kin. Honor opossums by spreading knowledge of how wonderful they are, as they are often the targets of human cruelty.

Raccoon- Raccoons are portal masters, the roamers in the night whose clever hands can open gateways, pick locks and catch that which lurks out of sight. They are highly tactile, mostly nocturnal, and very smart. With their masked faces, dexterous paws, tenacity, and nocturnal tendencies, they are the ideal animal guides for thieves, foragers, craftspeople, and anyone who makes use of obscurity. 

A racoon’s hook-shaped penis bone makes a powerful magical charm, especially useful for protection, potency, and invisibility. Raccoons also have ties to liminal and magical spaces. It’s easy to imagine them disappearing into a trash can on one side of town, only to emerge from a dumpster on the other side. Follow raccoons at your own risk, you might find yourself lost somewhere just sideways of here. 

Rat- Rats are fantastic animal guides and companions for the misunderstood and the underestimated. Although they can and do act as vectors of disease in some environments, they are still themselves smart, adaptable, social, and caring creatures who watch out for their own, sometimes even at their own expense. They are wizards when it comes to getting into and out of tight and difficult situations, and in the lab and home are known for their ability to navigate mazes and learn tricks. Domesticated rats are often very clean and sweet animals that “laugh” when tickled. 

Wild rats are enterprising survivors. Rat energy is powerful when it comes to overcoming adversity, hatred, and poverty and making the most of limited resources. They love to nest and hoard, so they’re another good familiar for the homey witch, as well as the grungy witch and the standard witchy witch. Really, you can’t go wrong with rats- just never have only one. 

In spite of being wonderful creatures, the negative perception of rats and the darker side of their nature makes them conceptually very useful in dark magic. One could, for instance, imagine a rat carrying one’s curse to a target like it would a parasite or disease, or use the image of a rat as a servitor in hexwork. 

Skunk- Skunks are masters of alchemy and pacifist defense. They do not have to fear, nor must they take violent action to protect themselves. Look to skunks for unconventional solutions, self-assurance, calm in the face of adversity, or as animal guides if you’re a chemist or alchemist. Skunk magic is also great for use in spells meant to repel others or keep them at bay.

Squirrel- Squirrels are creatures of balance and resourcefulness. Not only do they balance themselves expertly as they run along branches and leap from tree to tree, but they balance their time between play and planning, activity and rest. Even though much of that activity is spent burying nuts they’ll never find, those same nuts will grow into trees which will one day house and feed the squirrel’s numerous decedents. Ultimately, none of their time is wasted. Squirrels are the animal guides of people who both work and play hard, and squirrel energy is useful to anyone who’s trying to adjust their work/life balance or just learn to have more fun and enjoy themselves.

[earl-of-221b]

驱魔录

Qu Mo Lu － Part 2 of Translations, 2016 chapters, chapters 15-19

Treacherous Sea.

Chapter 15

Follow bubbles right to left.

(Lanterns blinking on boats out at sea.)

Girl: “Grandad, the rain’s gotten heavier again. Are we still able out to sea tomorrow?”

Grandad: “No, no going out on these waves. A typhoon is coming. Let’s clear up and go.”

Girl: “Grandad, on that rock ledge — I think there’s someone there.”

Stranger, standing on rock: “This water splashing upon my body, I feel none of it. But then why is it that it feels so familiar?”

Girl and Grandad: “Young man, don’t do it, don’t do anything stupid! Hey, you, hurry and get down, it’s so dangerous!”

—

Girl: “Hahah, so you weren’t trying to end your life, phew. Sorry for the misunderstanding.”

Grandad: “Judging on your smooth skin and unmarked body, you must be from of a family with money. A young master, right?” *Cough, cough.*

“Yingzi, go find some clean clothes for him to change into.”

(Yingzi is the name of the girl.)

(As the stranger changes into new clothes, he shows a glimpse of his intricately tattooed back. A lotus flower is in the middle.)

—

Chapter 16

(A cult-like gathering. Note: keep in mind that any magical/religious terms used in this comic has no relation to christianity. The word ‘priestess’ here is used to denote someone who has contact with the sea gods.)

Priestess: “In this unwell world the gods are angry; us mortals are suffering! I have received word from Tongling Sea-God, his highness, just now. If we want peace and mercy there is only one way, there is no other choice. You should discuss about it amongst yourselves.”

Civilian: “Priestess, even the sky has forsaken us this year. This time the typhoon will stop us from being able to go out to see for many days!”

Head Fisherman: “Are you saying we have to sacrifice again? It’s not as if we have limitless fifteen-to-sixteen years old girls in this village.”

Multiple Civilians: “Yeah, Old Head.”

“But Head, You — your Yingzi, isn’t she at that age now? If you can’t we’ll…”

“Yeah, yeah…”

(The Head Fisherman is the grandad of Yingzi.)

Head Fisherman, middle bubble: “No! Yingzi’s parents are all gone. In this family, I’ve only got this one niece left.”

Multiple Different Civilians: “Head Fisherman, you can’t be so selfish like that! This is for the sake of our entire village.”

“Yes, it’s a great responsibility.”

“You have to do it for the lives of everybody. It’s for the best.”

—

(In the house.)

Yingzi: “Achoo!”

Stranger: “Ying…”

(At fish.) “Oh.”

Yingzi: “Ok la. You don’t have to stare at me like that, with that silly look. Last fish on the plate, you eat it.”

(Bowl and chopsticks fall and break.)

(Yingzi holds out her hand to the stranger as she’s taken away.)

—

Stranger: “I’ve never understood. Being a mere puppet to be used like me, what’s the point of living at all?”

“Maybe the meaning of my life is to do battle and kill enemies. But then what’s the meaning of fighting?”

“I remember now. The meaning of having to fight is to protect the people that I want to protect.”

“It was like that in the past…it will be like that in the future.”

(Yingzi is tied as a human sacrifice to a post.)

Stranger: “Yingzi…”

“Don’t be afraid. I will protect you. Just like before — like the people of Chen Tang Guan.”

(Chen Tang Guan is the ‘stranger’s’ hometown, a great city. The golden bracelet he wears on his wrist enlarges into the Universe Ring 乾坤圈.)

—

Chapter 17

This chapter is left to right.

Priestess: “Are you…you’re really the Marshal of the Central Alter, great god…”

“Th…Third Prince, Nezha.”

(Nezha breaks the bonds, freeing Yingzi.)

Civilians: “The Great God has descended! Help us!”

“Great God, please save us!”

(Nezha looks down on them with disdain.)

Civilians: “AH….”

“Save me please!”

Yingzi: “No…no.”

Yingzi, clutching onto Nezha: “Help them. I’m begging you, please help them!”

“They were forced to do this.”

Nezha: “You mortal humans’ weakness and smallness is not an excuse to do evil.”

“No…”

(He summons the Fire-tipped Spear 火尖槍)

“Humans are just like this…”

“Gods. Humans. Demons. They all have their own code and ways to follow. If you do something wrong, then you have to pay the price.”

“Demons are so…”

(Nezha takes down the sea monster with his spear in a flash of gold.)

“And Gods and deities are so…”

(Nezha’s silhouette.)

“Now that I’ve shown my true form, I’ve got nowhere left to hide.”

(Gold lightning crashes from heaven.)

“Anyhow, I’ve committed many sins. Doesn’t matter if I add one more to the lot.”

(The golden pagoda, recognisable as Nezha’s father’s prison. It is used especially to subdue Nezha. The pagoda falls to imprison him.)

“At least I could protect those that I felt like protecting.”

(Nezha, holding hands with Yingzi.)

“At least I truly lived my life as my own for once…”

“The fish you cooked was really delicious…if there was…”

“...a next time…”

“.……”

End.

Author Notes: Third Prince’s story was supposed to end here. But then everybody seemed to be so glum~~~~

Translator Notes: I heavily suspect that because the author gave Sun Wukong that awesome big billowy red cape (like the movie) he couldn’t give Nezha his Red Armillary Sash 浑天绫 because it’ll look too similar hahahahahahahahhahaa!

—

(More Translator notes, can skip: The story of Nezha is pretty well known and readers would be able to guess his identity from the hints given in the first chapters.

(An important part of Nezha mythology is the ‘Havoc in the Eastern Sea.’ The people of Chan Tang Guan begged the Eastern Dragon King for rain and depending on the version, the King either snatches children to eat or the people put out human sacrifices, etc. After one of Nezha’s friends were taken, he goes to upheave the sea kingdom and cause trouble for the King. Nezha gets into a fight with the King’s third son. Nezha is, like, 7 years old when he murders the King’s third son, prompting a huge siege over Chen Tang Guan by the King and his dragon brothers in revenge. They create devastating tsunamis, typhoons and floods.)

(Nezha’s father Li Jing thinks that Nezha has shamed the family and doomed Chen Tang Guan. To save his people, and in the ultimate show of filial piety, young Nezha takes his father’s sword and commits suicide. Li Jing burns down Nezha’s temple that was created after his death, saying that he’d been nothing but trouble for the family.)

(Nezha is then bought back to life by his teacher, Taiyi Zhenren, from the roots and essence of a lotus flower. He becomes a deity after rebirth, becoming the ‘Third Lotus Prince.’ Li Jing and Nezha then have a terrible relationship and have many fights. Because Nezha was more powerful than Li Jin, the gods give him a magical golden pagoda than can grow and shrink — created to subdue Nezha.)

(Nezha is always depicted as a young child with two hair buns, but in this comic he looks much older. The images of Nezha in the rain on the sea, as well as the tattoos of the lotus on his back, evoke his past.)

—

Chapter 18

(The title page shows Nezha’s Universe Ring and a lotus.)

(People are praying in a temple.)

(Yingzi has been praying to/for Nezha.) (Read left to right, up down.)

“Excuse me, Madam.”

Young Jiang Liu’er: “Please, Madam, stop just a for a moment.”

Yingzi: “What’s the matter, Young Master?”

Young Jiang Liu’er: “Forgive my forwardness…”

Yingzi: “This…”

Young Jiang Liu’er: “The bracelet you wear on your wrist, may I ask where it comes from?”

“Madam, please don’t misunderstand. It’s just that your bracelet is much like something that an old friend of mine has. It reminded me of them, so I asked.…”

Yingzi: “Young Master. This bracelet is also my good friend’s. Once he comes back, I’ll like to return it to him…”

Young Jiang Liu’er: “No matter. It was this monk that misjudged. Sorry for the trouble. Sanzai (‘there is good’).”

“Farewell.”

(Young Jiang Liu’er’s eyes glow fiery gold.)

Young Jiang Liu’er: “Looks like our dear friend is the same person ay…”

“Just that this one parting ended up being five hundred years…”

—

Chapter 19

(Sun Wukong in armour with his feather crown, perched on a rock looking up at Heaven’s gate.)

(Clear skies and boats peacefully out at sea.)

Head fisherman/ Grandad: “Yingzi, recently you’ve been running to that temple non-stop…”

“The bloke is a heavenly deity, are you still thinking he’s going to come back?”

Yingzi: “Alright, Grandad, stop talking about it…”

(Yingzi looks out, seagulls fluttering away above, seeing something.)

Yingzi: “Is that…”

Yingzi, after something descended onto her boat lightning fast: “Why is it…you, Young…Young Monk?”

Sun Wukong, in the form of young Jiang Liu’er: “Madam, we meet again.”

“This one here is that old friend of mine I was talking about. But right now I have some errands to run. I’ve got to leave some trouble in your hands…”

Yingzi: “Ah…okay…”

—

(Eyes open.)

Yingzi: “You’re awake.”

Nezha: “Yingzi…”

“How could this…”

Yingzi: “Don’t move. I’ll tell you, it all went like this….”

(She tells him what happened.)

Nezha: “…A monk…”

Yingzi: “Before he left he told me to give you this…”

(She holds out the pagoda, the only thing that can imprison Nezha.)

“He said he was borrowing it from someone. And that ‘you can give it back when you feel like giving it back.’”

Nezha: “….”

Yingzi: “That friend of yours — is he a really strong god…? How did you guys meet?”

Nezha: “He…is very powerful. But he’s not really a god or deity. Us two fought a match back in the day, five hundred years ago.”

In Heaven -

Li Jing, Nezha’s Father: “Oh Jade Emperor! That demon monkey stole my seven-jewelled pagoda!”

“And…and beat me up in the process, you must—”

Jade Emperor: “What! That demon monkey came up here?! Where is he now?”

Li Jing: “After he hurt me…he…he just left.”

Jade Emperor: “Oh, so it’s like that…Then that’s good. That’s good.”

End.

Author notes: So I drew a sequel. Got to put some stress on Sir Li Jing and the Emperor la.

Translator notes, can skip: (Tbh I can’t read what the extra bit is, sorry. It’s congratulating someone on something.) Five hundred years ago when Sun Wukong was wrecking havoc in heaven, Nezha was a marshal sent down with the army to apprehend him. In the book, Nezha fought Sun Wukong one-on-one and lost.

In the 1999 journey to the west tv show and 05 lotus lantern they added an incredible addition where Nezha and Sun Wukong fight but they bond over each other’s skills and their mutual making-fun of the Eastern Dragon King, whom they both dislike. Sun Wukong invites Nezha back to his mountain to enjoy a hearty meal and they stop mid-fight to do just that. Then Nezha waves goodbye and runs back to Li Jing and the army at the end of the day after the hang-out, looking fake-disheveled, pretending to have suffered a defeat. They tell no one of this and no one ever knows. (I really really like this addition hehehee.)

[nickatnightwalker-blog]

damian doesn’t understand the entire concept of The Baby, nick’s apparently been engaged to a bird for months now, nick is honestly confused by damian’s blatant refusal to behave likeably or even neutrally in front of anyone but him

a-thousand-dreadful-things Is he talking about a literal baby?

nickatnightwalker oh uh i dont know how old iti s it might be a baby for all i fucking know

a-thousand-dreadful-things Is it his baby?

nickatnightwalker he found it, so i guess so he didnt like, give birth to it though i feel like that's beyond the level of weirdness we're dealing with

a-thousand-dreadful-things He found a literal human baby?

nickatnightwalker it's a six eyed bird that comes up to my waist and i personally cant hold up with one arm it's the baby.  it's helpless you know

a-thousand-dreadful-things Are you fucking with me?

nickatnightwalker ive met it eye to eye to eye to eye to eye etc

a-thousand-dreadful-things I hate this fucking school.

nickatnightwalker i know the whole concept of enormous bird of prey as helpless infant is kind of a lot but you just gotta roll with it just fucking. go with it.  or else youll wanna shoot yourself. besides, it's pretty ok.  little bit of a brat though.

a-thousand-dreadful-things It can't possibly be happy locked up in a dorm. It's a wild animal. He should let it go free.

nickatnightwalker it is free it just like comes to visit or something we went up into one of the towers in ra and he called it and it fucking came dude.

a-thousand-dreadful-things Beholden to a master who feeds it is not the same as free.

nickatnightwalker oh it can most definitely feed itself damian i think it comes to him for like, hugs

a-thousand-dreadful-things Unsanitary.

nickatnightwalker youre preaching to the choir here buddy birds fucking love me for some goddamn reason and they're the worst

a-thousand-dreadful-things How much experience do you have with "birds" as a general category that you know that they "love you"?

nickatnightwalker once i was in central park and as an experiment i just didn't move and no less than four pigeons eventually ended up sitting on me

a-thousand-dreadful-things Pigeons roost on anything that stays still for an extended period of time. Insufficient evidence for significance.

nickatnightwalker alright then the seagulls at LBI who not only didn't steal my food, they actually brought me someone else's sandwich and then laid down around my chair

a-thousand-dreadful-things You're making that up.

nickatnightwalker pictures are on facebook dont like, like anything or comment on anything though my dad's a demon also there was a crow that lived on my street and brought me buttons and shit once it brought me someones engagement ring that was awesome

a-thousand-dreadful-things Though I imagine less awesome for whomever lost the ring. Or perhaps the crow was proposing?

nickatnightwalker maybe they threw it, you dont know oh shit

nickatnightwalker i cant fucking believe im engaged

a-thousand-dreadful-things I can't believe you've been fooling around with me, and all this time... Your poor crow fiancee must be devastated.

nickatnightwalker i cant even believe i did that it's like i dont know myself

nickatnightwalker although on a scale of one to divorce papers i feel like you and i probably only fucked up at like, a level three

a-thousand-dreadful-things Perhaps she doesn't even know.

nickatnightwalker well damn am i supposed to come clean honey i held a guy's hand im sorry i know now it was wrong although actually i didnt at the time or do i spare her the pain

nickatnightwalker she doesnt even HAVE hands d that's gotta be a sore spot

a-thousand-dreadful-things You can tenderly clasp her scaled feet. Explain it was merely an emotional affair; beg her to forgive you.

nickatnightwalker ugh have you ever actually touched a bird's feet that's been a huge obstacle in our relationship

a-thousand-dreadful-things I see. Birds may love you; but you clearly do not return the feelings. Unfortunate.

nickatnightwalker all they really like me for is my hair

a-thousand-dreadful-things Well: understandable.

nickatnightwalker oh my god not you too

a-thousand-dreadful-things Frankly, I fear the day you get a haircut, Nick, and all my tenuous feelings vanish into thin air.

nickatnightwalker well what the fuck i thought it was for my motherfucking charming attitude and tact

a-thousand-dreadful-things What a pleasant surprise! Nick Walker apparently has heard the word "tact" before. I wondered, since you possess none.

nickatnightwalker pot, meet kettle

a-thousand-dreadful-things I suppose that's fair.

nickatnightwalker im a fucking UN diplomat next to you d

a-thousand-dreadful-things I can be composed when I want to be. Most of the time it just doesn't matter to me whether anyone thinks I'm tactful or not.

nickatnightwalker i thought you were aiming to keep the enemies to a minimum

a-thousand-dreadful-things *Mortal enemies. "Enemies" as a blanket category is much more difficult to maintain.

nickatnightwalker you think so? probably wouldnt be if you worked on that tact thing ive been here as long as you and theres only one person who hates my ass, jsyk

a-thousand-dreadful-things As long as no one's trying to kill me I have no objection to a pool of low-level dislike. I can only control myself, Nick, not others.

nickatnightwalker right but have you considered it might just be like

nickatnightwalker nice if people liked you

a-thousand-dreadful-things It doesn't really matter to me either way. All the people whose opinions I give a damn about like me already.

nickatnightwalker not daisy

a-thousand-dreadful-things I do not say this with intent to offend, but; you think I still care about her opinion?

nickatnightwalker damian, is there anyone else here like at all that youre on good terms with?

a-thousand-dreadful-things Ines.

a-thousand-dreadful-things I helped Valentine and Aud a few days ago. Not that they rank very highly on my list of people whose opinions I care about.

nickatnightwalker who IS on that list

a-thousand-dreadful-things You. Ines, I suppose.

nickatnightwalker damian.  did you care about having my good opinion before you actually had it because i feel like you might be doing this backwards

a-thousand-dreadful-things That depends. At what point did I finally succeed in gaining your good opinion?

nickatnightwalker who says you have it?

nickatnightwalker that was kinda presumptuous ngl you know if you talked to more people how you talk to me youd probably have and then care about their good opinion in that order

a-thousand-dreadful-things I suppose I understand that. But I have no real interest in it.

nickatnightwalker how do you not see how that could like, generally make your life easier d

a-thousand-dreadful-things My life isn't terribly difficult as is.

nickatnightwalker i dont get it

nickatnightwalker i mean i get not caring i do that every day but it's so easy not to make people hate your ass except for aud but shes a basket case

a-thousand-dreadful-things Aud's not so bad.

nickatnightwalker she HATES me so i kinda dont care for her

a-thousand-dreadful-things She seems incapable of true hate. Like a particularly angry kitten made of clay. Anyway; it's certainly possible you've done something by accident that riled her up. Any idea?

nickatnightwalker oh yeah definitely. wynn asked me to the dance and she decidedthat made us rivals

nickatnightwalker i tried to throw you under that bus actually by pointing out she ditched me for you but it didnt really stick

nickatnightwalker anyway sorry i was making a vinegar and baking soda volcano with misha it was a scientific breakthrough

[heroesoftherepublic-blog]

The Pirate, The Oracle and Their Monster

Storm clouds gathered suddenly over the calm lake, joining the distasteful sulfur discharges in ruining an otherwise beautiful day under the sun. Heaven and hell collided, causing something to implode across the waters, a wave of yellow, gray and white mists covering the realm of reality. Walking over the scalding vapors was a Greek, tall and tanned, owner of an impeccable auburn beard. In one of his hands he held a feminine mask of wrinkled and broken wax. On another, a long bronze tube engraved with intricate patterns too precise for the most gifted of artisans. Jumping over bubbling jets of water and playfully toying with the steam, the man made his way towards the shore dancing his good fortunes away to a tune only he could hear. He threw his melted mask into the water once he arrived to the shore where he searched for a convenient rock. A cloud steam covered it, disappearing on a whirl and revealing an extravagant silk cloak and a long blue tunic with golden linings of arcane identity.

Dressing up and sitting down, the Greek relaxed and allowed himself to meditate. The world was split, shifting and rearranging around him. When he opened his eyes, he was no longer besides the volcanic lake, and now was surrounded by the black sand of some Italian coast as seagulls soared above. A ship in sight, patiently waiting. A smaller boat approached, whose cheerful crew waved as they recognized the man.

“Captain!” A kemet native from Aegypt, whose bearing betrayed his responsibilities as navigator, hailed the Greek. “Welcome aboard. Everyone has been missing you; I hope you were successful on your expedition?”

“Better than what I would ever have dared to expect. Here.” The Greek man put the bronze tube in the hands of the closest companion, which quickly cycled it among the curious crew. “If I put this on the hands of the right person, this can assure all of us kingly retirements. Take it to my quarters, I will decide what to with it and on a course later. Before anything else, Ammon, tell me exactly what you have been doing while I’ve been playing master and slave with the Latins. Where are our other ships?”

“Xenophon was caught by a storm and went back to Regium for repairs; the Salaminia decided they could make some money from the back of the Celts and the last time we spoke they were sailing to meet their leaders and negotiate their transport from Italia.”

“Let’s sail south then, so that we might meet up in Regium. Then we join forces with the Salaminia and take the Gauls aboard. Once we have separated them from the spoils, we dock on Carthage where we sell them into slavery. Then we return home to Alexandria and spend their ill-gotten treasure.” The cheers of the crew barely let the captain conclude. “I will retire for the day, I am in deep need of rest; if anyone disturbs me, I hope for their sake that they be carrying wine and figs.”

The Greek made his way to the captain’s quarters, straight to the bed. As he laid there, his sleepy eyes searched the room for his prize, finally finding it resting over a soft pillow. He slowly narrowed his eyes, studying the shining trophy with his mind’s eye.

“How do you intent to make use of this relic, Diodorus?” A female voice with a metallic echo invaded his mind, its accent bearing the mark of an archaic dialect of Greek. “Nothing is sacred to your kind.”

“Hello Sybil. Which of them do I have the dubious honour of receiving in my head? Cumae? Sounds right, none of the others would have an interest on the affairs of Romans.”

“I see that you have met my sisters. Excellent. You must know then, that we do not lent ourselves to vague concerns and I would not waste my words addressing you personally if it was not extremely important. I expect you to listen careful to what I have to say, for this might be the first and last time we speak.”

“Wait, wait! Before you say anything else, let me show you something.” Diodorus rose, pacing himself around the room while snapping his fingers, looking for something. “I do not like to communicate mentally, my mind wanders and the result is an awful, awful migraine. Perhaps we can find you another transmitter besides my skull.”

“You may stay awhile and listen instead of meandering around. It is no use; this is the only way we can communicate. Whatever is the primitive setup that you managed to scrounge, it will not work.”

“My sweet Sybil, please, lend me some credit. I assure you, this one will definitely work.” Diodorus finally removed a wolf pelt from a coffer, opening it to reveal a bronze head representing an austere beauty. Lifting it from its linen headrest, the Greek was quick to put both bronze relics together on the same pillow. With a cocky smile, he pondered.

“Are you still there, Sybil?”

The bronze head tilted ever so slightly.

“Perfect synchronization.” The metallic voice now echoed within the bronzed lips. If its owner was somehow distressed by the implications of the Greek’s possession of this artifact, it did not show. “Now, Diodorus of Alexandria, might we return to the business at hand? What is your intent for the content of that tube? Do you even fully understand what you now possess?”

Diodorus limited his answer to a shrug.

“To be perfectly honest, I do not know what I have exactly. I do not know, and it is irrelevant for my purposes. I know enough, it is dangerous reading material and one of Numa Pompilius infamous black books. The groundwork of Roman society and its covenants with both gods and their own people were sealed and bound with the content of tubes like these. Sure, it is not as tall prize as the name of the City’s divine protector, however, someone determined or desperate enough could weave some powerful and nasty spells with these. Perhaps bad enough to erase this pack of wolves from the face of the Earth once and for all.

The Sybil rested silent, as if the words of the Greek had given her much to think about. More likely, it was waiting to see if he was in a rush to add something else.

“Are you that person? Are you so desperate and determined to see Rome fall, Diodorus?

“Me? No, I am afraid I am much more pragmatic and mercenary on my motivations. I need silver and gold to my own purposes and Romans have been very good at creating enemies. Who do you think will give me a better price? I was thinking about selling it to the Carthaginians, however, I cannot ignore the fact that I had to kill quite a few of their agents before getting my hands on this thing. What does the great Sybil think, will they greet me as a fellow merchant or cut me as a thief?”

No answer from the head.

“I can always go to the Barcids, but we both know how they are, they will not pay for anything that they can take by force. Did I mention how good it is that Romans have so many enemies? I might even find someone in Italia or go East and peddle my goods on the markets of Anatolia or Alexandria. What is that? I do not need to sail that far away? Do you think the brat that sits on the Macedonian throne will want to learn his letters with the diaries of old Numa?”

“Those last three might be your most wise and sensible choices, Diodorus.” The head finally lost its patient, interrupting the pirate’s taunts. “That is, if your goal is for once and for all extinguish the democratic ideals from the Hellenistic world. The feeble pockets of freedom of the Greek-speaking world only survive due to the uneasy balance of forces between the three hegemonies. Something of this much power can tilt the tensions too much and give the world another grand tyrant.”

“You finally say something that might sway me, Sybil.” The Greek pirate uttered a loud chuckle and grabbed the bronze tube, spinning it on his hands. “If giving it to East hurts my people and the West promises me no security, perhaps I should seek buyers North. Sure, this particular Gaulish horde is a wounded horse, but there is no lack of Celts deep into woods and mountains. And I am a patient man, if the Celts are not interested, there is always the mysterious Germanic tribes of the dead ice country.”

“There is an alternative you still have not considered.” The Sybil pointed out.

“South? Sure, I know some people there, but they suffer too much already from the Punics. If the Romans were gone, their fortunes would take a turn for the worse. No, they would not profit from this.”

“You might just destroy it, Diodorus. Nobody knows you have it, nobody will be looking for it. The world thinks it and its secrets are done. Dip it into vinegar, seal with pitch and throw it into the depths of the ocean. It does not belong to you, nor does any mortal presents a better claim for this knowledge. You should never have dug it out from the collective consciousness of Alba Longa, and nothing good can come from something earned through such treachery. Have you considered the fate you condemned that bright young woman to? I know the responsibilities you shoulder, that behavior was below your station and disgraced your mantle.”

The pirate frowned, his dead eyes betraying his displeasure even as his grin went from one ear to another.

“Oh? Why would I do that, especially if I am such a distasteful creature? Sybil, stop your efforts. Be they flesh or gears, I know when someone is not telling me everything they know in an attempt to manipulate me. May it be that the witch from Cumae has a soft spot for the Romans? To the point that she is willing to sacrifice her mission? Oh yes, I know all about that. Your sisters can be quite talkative when self-preservation permeates their circuity.”

The head turned, its empty eyes staring down Diodorus.

“Among the tribes of Italia are some of the only children of Men that can preserve the ideals and knowledge of their predecessors. Your people failed, Diodorus, their ascension a flawed one that changed and twisted them. Against all odds, the continuation of their work may only be possible with the help of the heirs of their sworn enemies. Just look at your fellow countrymen, feeding cancerous growth in the darkest corners of the world and embracing decadent lives of self-destruction. Whatever you or others might think about the Romans, I came to believe that the Romans may be the vector through which Humanity is saved.”

Diodorus could not contain another chuckle.

“Do you need some replacement parts, Sybil? Something must have fried these last centuries; you are not making any sense. How about we negotiate a compromise? I go to Cumae with a big hammer and shatter you into a million tiny pieces, a much owned mercy killing? I bet your sisters would thank me, they must be embarrassed with your actions, the great Sybil of Cumae, siding with a barbarian people over the children of Hellas.”

“My calculations are flawless.” The Sybil stood her ground. “Rome will survive this conflict with the Gauls, and all those that will follow. Carthage will break, as will all the kings and queens that dance over the corpse of Alexander. It is either that or they will fail to establish an unbroken line of civilization, giving way to another age of Ice and Darkness that will devour everything. I have no doubt of that; the only variables are if some distant Eastern and Western pillars of light will survive or will eventually surrender to the night.”

“I refuse to accept that, Sybil.” Diodorus face darkened and he lost his smile. He then forced a mirthless one. “Even if is just because the picture you paint is excessively dramatic.”

“Will Diodorus also refute the facts that fuel my deductions? There are no alternatives among their rivals. If left for themselves, the Punics will soon return to old habits or turn to terrible masters, the Etruscans have long ago cast their identity and cultural unity to the wind. The world of Greek inheritors has stagnated, other than a few bastions like the Cloud-City of Siracusa, nobody creates anything new. And even those of scholarly pursuits must survive on the whims of Fortune. And do I even need to tell you, of all people, about the Doom of Aegypt?”

As his temper overtakes him, the pirate threw the head at the floor.

“Is life under the heel of barbarians preferable to destruction? We both know that it will all end in tyranny and savagery. Is your plan to make all of us slaves, Sybil?”

“I do not understand your questions, Diodorus. They are tainted by emotion, making it hard for me to relate. However, I have to say, being surrounded by foolishness and ignorance is how I have existed for centuries. I have managed, I am sure your ego could handle it too.”

Picking the head and shutting it behind his coffer, Diodorus brought his hands to his brow as he pondered his next move. A series of violent shakes that rocked the ship forced him to postpone such contemplation for later. Followed by desperate screams, Ammon broke into the captain’s quarters.

“Captain, something is climbing aboard! It has to be after your prize, that thing cannot want anything else!”

Diodorus flipped his bed and uncovered a curved sword, a long harpe. After hesitating for a moment, he took the bronze tube and hid it under his clothes.

The ship shook once more, throwing some of the less experienced sailors across the deck.

“He is coming.” The Sybil echoed inside the Greek pirate’s head.

“Whom?”

A long arm slowly appeared at starboard, followed by a long creeping leg. The movements were disturbingly agile, as the intruder limbs seemed to bend in ways impossible for human articulations, crawling like a gray humanoid spider.

“The Enemy.”

A lightning-fast swing threw many of the still resisting crew members into the water, immediately followed by a set of quick jumps. The attacker made the ship rock again, stressing the sailors as they armed themselves with swords and spears and tried to surround the creature. Diodorus finally took a good look at it. It was a real giant, but uncanny gaunt and lean, as if someone had stretched a human being near its breaking point. It had skinny but long limbs and a deformed skull. Its teeth were vicious and prominent, its beard a living mass of wriggling tentacles. Big dark eyes that looked like spheres of stolen night sky looked around, the Greek noticing that the creature tried to cover its right side, where its right arm dangled burnt and useless.

“Curses, it is the guardian of Alba Longa. How did it find me?” Diodorus groaned between clenched teeth.

The creature kept looking around the ship, ignoring the combatants that approached it on all sides, focused on a single purpose. It finally found Diodorus, shouting with unholy rage and charging towards him, pushing down a pile of barrels that stood in its way. The Greek wrapped himself around his cloak, dodging out of the way without barely any effort, his feet never failing to follow the balance of the ship. Diodorus started picking up and throwing any ropes and cargo he stumbled on, creating obstacles for the guardian that could slow it down and keep an advantageous distance between the two.

It was a futile effort, as the creature jumped like some sort of profane frog over the barrels, making timber creek and break, opening gaping holes across the deck. Diodorus swung his harpe, the curved blade slicing the muscles of its left leg as the Greek rolled out of the way.

Slowing down a bit and shifting the leg that supported its weight, the guardian still managed to keep the pressure on, forcing Diodorus to fight defensively, dodging and parrying, never managing to create an opening or having the opportunity to riposte.

The eyes of both fighters met for a brief moment, an image projected inside Diodorus’ mind. The Greek, one hand holding a bloody knife and another raised to the sky, as a purple-dressed man laid at his feet. The fool tried to keep his entrails inside his open belly, as another purple one was being lifted into the air by invisible forces, slowly suffocating.

“I was there; I know what happened. What point are you trying to make?”

Perhaps it was meant as a simple distraction, nothing more purposeful than that. The burnt arm seemed to burst with renewed life, clenching a fist and aiming straight at Diodorus’ head. A spear landed at the creature’s flank, winning Diodorus enough time to escape. Running towards the mast, the Greek jumped on top of a box and used the impulse to climb halfway the risen wood. Earning enough momentum, he jumped back, flying over the guardian and slashing its back and neck all the way down. The landing was difficult enough without the monster reacting in pain, spinning and kicking Diodorus with such violence that he felt into the water.

Holding to a broken plank, the captain made his climb back to his ship, sensing with every tremor the approach of the creature. That kick was far from the only attack that struck the Greek; another mental assault confronted him with the stolen texts and the destruction the guardian sought to inflict upon them.

“Captain!” Ammon appeared at the right moment, getting a hold on Diodorus as he almost lost balance due to the mental intrusion. “It is unstoppable! What are your orders?”

“Any ideas how to deal with your little friend, Sybil?” Diodorus thought, knowing the oracle was still listening in.

“If it is a thing they are not, is our friend. There is nothing within your power that you can do to stop their advance, not once they decided on a goal. It is like being in a collision course with a force of nature.”

“Excuse me my assumptions. See, when two sides want the same thing, I am prone to...”

“Attention!”

Someone shouted a late warning, as the creature picked up one of the crew and threw the poor man against Diodorus, the captain ducking barely in time to avoid being hit; a brief moment later he heard the man hitting the water. Right, the guardian wants the relic? Diodorus took the bronze tube out and waved it in the direction of the guardian.

“This is what you want, is it not? You came all the way here for this? Then come get it!”

The creature charged him once again, Diodorus dancing so that he could face the guardian’s burnt flank; as they circled each other the creature made a move to grab and snatch the Greek. Failure met it, however, its efforts were enough to trap the captain. Forced to block the follow-up attacks with his sword, a desperate Diodorus threw himself under the guardian, sliding towards relative safety.

With a pained cry the creature made its diminished patience known. Snapping its arms as they seemed to grow even longer, climbed the mast making all the way to the top with two lunges. Diodorus looked up, wondering what the guardian was going to do.

It jumped.

Lower jaw dislodging, leaving a gaping and expanding maw. The rest of the body seemed to dangle in disturbing angles lifeless, as the voracious maw sucked into it the mast, broken planks, light barrels and abandoned weapons.

Everything was being dragged into that toothy vortex.

“That is new.” The Sybil mechanic voice remarked.

“Out! Everyone dive out!” Diodorus shouted. “Abandon ship and swim as further away from me as you can. Abandon everything.”

The crew did not force the order to be repeated, jumping into the water under the vigilant watch of the Greek captain. It was with pain that Diodorus joined his men, as the ship was utterly dismantled and swallowed. The guardian just stood there, obscene figure that slowly floated down into the water, ripples heralding his imminent approach.

It was a tired Diodorus that reached the coast, struggling to regain his breath as he found himself surrounded by just as exhausted companions.

“I told you to go away! Keep on going, I will distract it as you make your escape. I have what the monster wants.”

“Give me the relic, captain.” Ammon begged. “I can be the distraction as you lead the others.”

Diodorus shook his head.

“I am the only one that can slow it down and survive. Besides, right now the men need their navigator more than their captain. Split in two groups, one goes north and other south, try to meet with the crews of the Xenophon and Salaminia.

“Captain…”

“Carthage. In three weeks.” The Greek turned to face the creature, as its mouth finally closed and it landed over the debris of what had once been the pride of his fleet. “Go!”

With the others safe and sound, Diodorus looked around for some higher ground and clung to his scythe-like sword. The guardian darted out of the water like some massive gray shark, never slowing down as it approached the pirate. Diodorus was ready to strike at it, eyes narrowing; it was then that he noticed how the cuts he had previously dealt had once again sealed themselves shut, some sort of thick black smoke keeping the skin together as flesh was restored to its pale dirty color. Diodorus flexed his legs, not willing to gamble his life away on a worthless strike.

The creature stopped half-way, opening its maw and seeming to suffocate with something caught in its throat. After much struggle, it managed to pass and spit something bronzed that rolled between the stones of the beach. The head of the Sybil stopped at Diodorus’ feet.

“Where did you come from?” The Greek asked, caught by surprise.

“In the Underworld, believe it or not.” Sybil stated. “Diodorus, you do not want to be caught by it.”

“No kidding. I hate that place.” Diodorus clenched his teeth. The guardian had recovered from the trial, approaching slowly but determined. “How do I kill it?”

“It is impossible. They can only be sealed or delayed, never destroyed. Me and my sisters tried every method we had theorized, they all failed.” Sybil explained. “The Sea People’s achievements cannot be underestimated. Much as the content of that tube.”

The guardian stared at Diodorus, then at the bronze head possessed by Sybil, then back at Diodorus; its expression could only be read as absolute sadness. The Greek felt his mind once again assaulted, such shattering force that made his nose bleed. Islands covered in buildings of iron and stone, a sea filled with crystal spirals. A black sky and a massive volcanic explosion, entire cities obliterated in seconds, pestilence and war between people wearing strange armors and bizarre beasts.

“I… do not understand.” Diodorus babbled. It was an uncomfortable feeling.

“Do not feel bad, it is not expected that you to do so.” Sybil intervened. “They are talking to me.”

The guardian shook its head, assuming an aggressive posture but not attacking. Instead, words in a strange alphabet bleed from reality, dancing around it, in red and black swirls. Another wave of mental images, this time confronting Diodorus with his deception, him on the guise of a slave in the company of a young Vestal.

“Really? You are trying me to feel guilty for leaving her? She was a possible Arcani on the rise, have you any idea of the damage they have been doing across the world? You do not care, do you?”

The creature did not reply to the taunts in any way. Or perhaps it did, sending an image of itself, shaking its head in disapproval.

“She was not an Arcani. Or another type of Triumphant anyway.” Sybil clarified. “I tried to talk with her and she seemed unable to hear me. You abandoned an innocent girl to her death without any remotely good reason.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Sybil. I felt her divine spark.”

Silence from the head as if the intellect behind it was otherwise occupied.

“That is interesting. That means she has to be a member of the other group.” She finally added.

“Corvus? They have all been killed.”

“Cannot be, I tried to warn her about your deception. She had no previous training before you felt her. She was a natural and you witnessed her first time.”

Diodorus expression was of pure disbelief.

“Zeus, Poseidon and all the gods of Olympus. And I left her to die alone?”

The guardian bent its head ever so slightly, expression twisting into one of curiosity. Could it be the Greek was feeling genuine remorse?

“She is worth a fortune! One natural, spontaneous Triumphant without any strings attached? Have you any idea about how rare they are?”

The Greek pirate could feel the massed disapproval of the Sybil and the creature. A shout announced the end of the cease-fire, the alien worlds disappearing as its muscles and tendons exploded into double their previous size. A scarlet wave filled the emptiness of its pitch-black eyes. Diodorus raised his right hand, daring him to advance.

“You are not the only one with tricks under their tunic. Shall we dance?”

The guardian advanced, a side strike making the Greek lose his wind. Trying to regain distance, Diodorus was caught unaware as the creature’s beard animated itself into dozen tentacles that grabbed his sword arm. Knowing that the fight would be lost or won this moment, Diodorus did not waste any more time. A flask was smuggled from inside his clothes, which he broke in the face of the enemy; black mist covered both combatants. His movements hidden, Diodorus pulled a knife from his sandal and stabbed the creature multiple times, making it pay the price for proximity.

As the attacker recoiled in pain, Diodorus found himself free. Jumping back and tripping over the rocks, the Greek recovered his second wind and danced once again, this time half-covered by the black smoke. The mists seemed to grow thicker instead of dispersing, slowly describing the shape of a monstrous snake coiled around the guardian, squeezing him tighter and tighter, resisting its unbridled fury and refusing to stop the embrace.

The Greek quickly grabbed Sybil’s bronze head and sprinted as fast as he could. Behind him the guardian had finally managed to break free from the smoky snake, advancing in pursuit of Diodorus. Dodging and awkwardly swinging the haspe to the creature pursuing him, the captain gave a side glance to the vanishing smoke, once again giving it shape and purpose. The reformed snake quickly caught up with the fighters, circling as Diodorus used it as both a stair to climb the sky and as a barrier between him and his enemy.

The guardian growled and keep striking, not drawing any riposte from Diodorus; all he did was move around the snakes back, rising higher and higher so that they could be at the same eye-level. Diodorus turned the blade of his scythe-sword upwards, reflecting something. A dark and twisted shape. With a smile, the pirate saw the creature turn around to face this new construct.

It was only part snake, this creation of Diodorus, the guardian finding itself facing a feminine torso and a disgusting face crowned with serpentine hair, the dense smoke that made her opening to reveal two shining rubies that served as eyes. Eyes that met the guardian’s, as its pale skin turned grayer and grayer, its movements slowed down and its maw immortalized in a surprised gasp.

Diodorus dispersed the smoke and departed far away, already hearing the stone crack. As soon as he felt slightly safer, spoke to Sybil.

“You told me it was your enemy, but it was clear that it too had an invested interest in your pet barbarians. What is going on?”

“Diodorus, you must see things the other way around.” The mechanical voice corrected him. “Even when our beliefs are on opposing sides of the spectrum, we are both children of Mankind that wish to give their parents a proper future and recognize these people as our best chance.”

“I will never understand why, from all the tribes and peoples of the world both of you had to pick these descendants of refugees and bandits. They are the afterbirth of the world.”

“You are a citizen of the world, an adventurer, someone that knows the odds of success and the inevitability of failure. You know that someone will eventually fail, and one of these days, it will be in a disastrous way.”

“Pains of the trade. And life.” Diodorus shrugs. “You just need to abandon what does not work anymore and move along.”

“That is the path of reason and logic. However, there is a collective madness to the Roman race that makes them unable to linger on their failings. They never surrender nor they never abandon an endeavor once they set themselves up to it; when they are broken, they use the fire of their passions to forge themselves back together as steel. My sisters might have put their hopes on Greeks, Kemet, and Persians, assuming that the culture and desire for understanding the cosmos should be the main factor dictating their choices. Myself, on the other hand, know how frustrating the pursuit of knowledge, truth, freedom and greatness is; as such, I play for the long haul by betting on a people that will never give up and will keep trying to improve their Fate. Persians and Kemet faded into the sands, the Hellenistic world in its twilight. Rome, those unwanted men and women that believe in ridiculous things like Democracy, Law and Virtue, will never allow themselves live in a world where those do not exist.” A pause. “Diodorus, you can play a crucial role in the development and maturation of this unexpected people.”

“Spare me the propaganda, Sybil. I will sell the treasure of Numa at the best price I can get and then set sail away from these coasts. I will never once again set foot in this savage peninsula.”

“I do not ask much from you. They already have all they need to thrive. They only need someone to teach them how to handle knowledge, that lets them expand their horizons and tap their full potential.”

Diodorus shook his head and opened the tube, raising it to his ear and listening to the electrical crack inside. Closing it once again. The sea called him. Pulled his arm back, gathering balance for the throw, advancing only to stop at the last moment. Stored the tube back.

 *

  Weeks later on the port city of Beneventum, an anonymous Diodorus found himself at a fetid tavern. Some group calling themselves the Sons of Dido wanted to buy the Book of Numa, no matter the price. All he had to do is to wait for a group of merchants to make the exchange. Shaking a cup of cheap wine and with the tube containing his treasure on the top of his table, he waited.

Three clearly Punic men entered the establishment, their purple tunics covered by heavy wool cloaks. Diodorus turned to them and raised his glass as a greeting.

To his surprise, the merchants disappeared in a blink. Fearing treachery to be afoot, looked around the tavern. He caught a brief glance of a speeding flash and stared right at the empty seats in front of him.

Sitting with him was a tall woman, half of her body hidden by a scarlet cloak whose brim was decorated with a pattern of stelae. She smiled as Diodorus noticed that his precious tube had disappeared.

“Are you my contact?” The Greek asked, unable to discern the ethnicity of the woman. She was definitely not of any Italian tribe and her slightly Asiatic features could indeed account for a Punic origin. Or even a Greek, an agent of this monarch or another. Discreetly, he reached for one of his daggers.

“In a way.” She replied in coarse Latin. “I represent another party interested on your deal, defenders of one of the regional powers and their allies. You might have heard of us, we are known as Corvus.”

“I am no friend of Rome, it is better if you just leave.” Diodorus replies, trying to find the best angle to put a blade between the woman’s eyes or at her throat. “Besides, I have doubts about your identity. The Corvus have been exterminated to the last man.”

“But not to the last woman, it seems.” For a moment, her smile darkened. “I will not lie, we are not what we used to be. However, we heard a lot about you and your work and we are impressed, including a shining recommendation from our allies. And I am inclined to believe the friends of our friends are our natural companions. The King of Pergamon in particular…”

“Just as I am no friend of Rome, I am no friend of any monarch, despot, tyrant or autocrat.” It was Diodorus’ dry answer. “You are wasting your time and mine. Return my propriety. Now.”

The tube appeared on the woman’s open hand.

“Only keeping it safe as we talked, there are very nasty people looking for this. It would be unfortunate if they got it.” Diodorus grabbed the Book and quickly hid it, the woman made no gesture or showed any intention to stop him. “However, our group has come to believe that Hermes Trismegistus is the best person to keep the Books of Numa Pompilius safely hidden.”

Diodorus frowned.

“Now there is a name I was not expecting to hear this far from home.”

“Your efforts are not forgotten nor have them gone unnoticed, Magus.” The woman seemed to grow more cheerful as Diodorus expression turned into surprise. She deposited a bloody linen rag on top of the table, a disturbing symbol embroidered in yellow. An enormous shining sun, flooding everything with sunbeams that stretched and ended in greedy grabby hands. “On the behalf of Corvus Optimus Maximus, I want to thank you for all you have to do protect Mankind over the years.”

“Aten…” Diodorus mumbled. “Is this recent? Is it back?

The woman nodded in agreement.

“I could try to persuade you to join the Corvus, appealing to our attachment to make Roman ideals a reality or that we also fight for the restoration of Liberty to all peoples, or any other rhetorical exercise. However, for good or ill, I am currently making all the decisions and that is not my style of doing things.” The woman pulled her cloak away, revealing her deep eyes and blond hair. “All those things are illusions, distractions of the simple truth. It is my invested duty to protect the Republic. Your self-declared goal is to protect Humanity. Anything that threatens “all of Humanity” includes also this Public Thing that I seek to defend. I am not here to buy or recruit you, Diodorus.”

“Hard to believe, considering what you know of me.” Diodorus replied with a cocky smile. “After all, you are fully aware about how good I am. What do you want from me then?”

“I want to help you.” The woman pulled the cloak up, only her wide hopeful grin visible. “All my resources are at your disposal. Consider the Corvus at your service.”

Diodorus ripped the embroidered sun in two.

“Let’s save the world then.”