#The kids are leaning more towards other foreign cultures such as the US while not having much of China's tradition and heritage

[alchemistdetective]

((Hoyo really put the concerns of some of the elders in Modern Day China here, good gosh

A bit of China talk under the tags))

[sorcerous-caress]

Just a lil check in to say hi and see how you’re doing. So how are you doing? I hope you’re doing well! Are you itching to write anything in particular lately?

-ex lurker

I'm doing alright, I'm learning how to manage myself and emotions better.

I have been more leaning towards sfw works recently, I still like smut as the next guy, but there are so many other ideas I want to explore first.

Angst, fluff, drama, character studies especially. I want to show more attention to Laezel, Minthara and Karlach. I feel like I've been focusing on Gale, Shadowheart and Astarion too much recently.

Oh but also dragons, and alternative universes! I've been storming a couple prince Wyll ideas but haven't came up with anything yet.

Thank you for checking in anon, I saw your message too and it made me feel better. How are you doing? I hope you're doing well and all, i hope you're staying safe and healthy.

Real Life events and vent below.

I've been preparing for my niece's birthday, i got he the most beautiful cinderella dress I could afford. Which isn't much but It's something that I hope she likes. Also I never realised how hard it is to get your hands on bts merch until 5 of my nieces suddenly became hard-core fans of them.

My dude it is a major struggle, each time I want to order something then look away for a second, it's suddenly sold out.

But it's eating me up, how my niece gets a safe and happy birthday while newborn children are being taken off life support and forced out of hospitals in Gaza. That video of the kids playiny and sliding on the gaint hole in the street previously made a rocket. I don't think I have the right to call myself human anymore, it's beyond horrific what's been happening to them.

Funny thing is, I have always known about the Palestine conflict, we literally read about it in our history books in schools. I remember being in middle school and going home to ask my parents about it, i remember the teachers tearing up when bringing it up. I remember the clear discussions of the horrors happening right now there.

And all of that was softened up and watered down as much as possible for a kid to comprehend. Much like I had to learn about the major world wars, the Palestine history and the many many treaties that were broken by their colonisers took a whole chapter or more out of the school book.

I can't even begin to describe how important and how aware the middle east is of Palestine even before the current genocide intensified. It's straight up embarrassing and shameful how little the current middle east cares or sends aids for Palestine. After all that history, after all those talks and promises.

The rich ones are pandering to the west for a speck of dust of acceptance, ereasing their own culture just to become nothing more than a vacation spot for foreigners.

If you're wondering why the Palestine people have no-where safe to go to, is because all their arab neighbouring countries closed off their borders to them. So they can deep throat the coloniser's dick more I assume.

As much as my own country is corrupted and fucked up, the one right thing we did is that we never recognised Palestine's colonisers as an actual country and never will.

I learned english as a kid on my own to be able to read uncensored books, Agatha Christie ones. The arabic translations clearly had a lot of plot holes and cut content and it frustrated kid me endlessly.

But I didnt realise it would come at the cost of my own culture. I feel like It made me no better than the arabs who suck up to westerns and put english on a pedestal. The same goes for the rest of my generations, we are all young adults and we couldn't have been more disconnected from our roots.

That's why the westernisation of the middle east was barely met with any resistance from us, the young adults who were supposed to be the front line of defence against corrupt governments. The second I saw them fully celebrating Christmas and using fake snow to pander to the west is the second I realised just how doomed we are. They don't even actually celebrate anything, they're playing dress up with someone else's religion and history.

We have our own celebrations, even our own calander with our own new year yet it's forgotten just for us to act out what we saw in Hollywood and Disney movies.

Our own princess, fairytales and folklore. Yet I still bought that Cindrella dress for my niece.

To add insult to injury, the closet thing to a traditional arab princess dress in that store was akin to a caricature of a bellydancer dress.

I'm not better than them. Indirectly or not, all of our combined actions had a hand in dooming Palestine, in dooming our brothers and sisters.

And Christmas will come, and the same arab countries who didn't allow women the legal right to drive a car until 2017-2018, would celebrate it alongside the world. Pretending it's one of them, pretending it's not like its "terrorist" sister countries so please please pick me up foreigners!!

[wutheringmights]

I just read the newest chapter and I loved it! ♥ ♥ ♥ I was wondering if you had some hcs about the engineer that you could share?

Awww I'm glad you like it! I just spent 5 minutes trying to figure out what "HCS" meant before realizing I'm a tired idiot who can't read lol

But yeah! I got some headcanons for the engineer/Spirits I can share!

These headcanons are a mix of things I generally believe for any iteration of the Hero of Spirits and a few things exclusive to CTB. It's pretty obvious which are which.

Technically this is slight spoilers since most of this is not mentioned in-story, but Warriors is a such a self-centered asshole that I'm not sure when I can get him to explicitly ask about Spirit's backstory lol

This got super long and kind of just became me talking about Spirits's entire backstory, so enjoy:

Spirits is sixteen during the course of Spirit Tracks, mostly because that was the vibe I got from him when I first played the game (I made him younger for CTB)

He's not descendant from Wind (who I maintain disappeared instead of settling in New Hyrule); instead, he's Aryll's great grandson

His family name used to be Outset, but when everyone who originally immigrated from Outset island took on that last name, they changed it to Aryll to reflect the family matriarch

So Spirit's full name is Link Aryll, though there is a branch of his family that uses Macaryll instead

The Aryll/Macaryll family is huge; everyone has at least six aunts and uncles on all sides of the family and they can trace back how they are related to Aryll

"I'm Grandma Aryl's third son's second daughter's fifth child." -someone Spirits is related to, probably

He actually never met his great grandmother; she died before he was born.

Spirit's dad was full-blooded Lokomo while his mother was Hylian; his mother passed a few months after he was born after never truly recovering from childbirth while his father died in a fishing accident when he was eight

He went to live with an aunt and uncle who owned a general store; their relationship was polite at best. The aunt and uncle told Spirits upfront that they intended to give the store over to his cousin when he was older so Spirits needed to come up with his own life plan

Spirits didn't necessarily mind since he never wanted to work in a store for the rest of his life, but the ultimatum made it clear that they didn't care for him like a son

To this day, their relationship isn't strained and he doesn't hate them. But whenever they meet, he's overly polite; they're more acquaintances than family

He's cool with his cousin though. They have different interests so they aren't best friends, but they're okay.

Spirits also always had his spirit-sensing abilities. It's really like a sixth sense to him, as normal and automatic as seeing and hearing; he actually didn't realize this wasn't normal until he was a little older

His abilities at this point are limited to sensing vague ideas of a person's spirit (if they're light or dark, etc.), and seeing ghosts (which are really rare. You have to have a lot of power yourself to become one)

(Note: I'm not the only one who headcanons Spirits as having spirit sensing abilities; if you know who can up with the idea, please let me know so that I can tag/credit them!)

The elder of his village told him that select Lokomo had minor spirit sensing abilities, and those who did were traditionally made elders of their villages; being more of a follower than a leader, Spirits adamantly dismissed that idea and refused to be trained on how to hone his spirit senses. He also never learned any of the religion behind it

Which was a little worrisome since his abilities are way stronger than most

Besides, he's always liked trains and it's been his dream to travel around the kingdom as an engineer; being some town's elder would get in the way of that

Anyway, Spirits had to pass a written exam before being accepted as an apprentice engineer, so he's very studious and has a lot of drive (pun unintended?)

He went to live with his Uncle Niko during his apprenticeship in another town; Niko isn't related to him, but he's been a friend of the family for so long that everyone secretly thinks he's actually related to someone and they just forgot who

Niko is his real family, hands down. Those two are as thick as thieves and bring out the wild side in each other

A preteen Spirits used to think Niko was a little lame and kind of embarrassing, but now that he's older, he's all for Niko's weird old man-ness and has even picked up on some of his weird old man-ness himself

That being said, they're both disasters. Neither can clean or cook or do any kind of housekeeping and their shared house is cluttered with Niko's art projects and Spirit's half-finished tinkering

Growing up, Spirits had no idea he was related to the legendary Hero of Wind; Aryll died before he was born, but even in life she was filled with too much grief over her missing brother to discuss it often. Within the family, being related to the Hero of Wind is a rumor at best.

Of course, Niko knows but keeps it a secret from Spirits; once he got back from his LU-adventure, Wind told Niko about the curse of the Hero's Spirit. Then he went missing post-New Hyrule's founding, which really drove the terror of the curse home. Niko thought he could keep Wind's family from falling victim to it by not inadvertently encouraging them to follow in Wind's footsteps

So Niko kept it a secret

And obviously, that didn't work

Spirits' quest to save New Hyrule resulted in him realizing that he needed to embrace his Lokomo heritage and get a handle on his spirit powers; Anjean gave him a little training during his quest but afterwards he traveled around the kingdom to find as many people as he could with abilities like his

They were all really excited to teach him what they knew, especially the religious aspects of the abilities; Spirits is still not the most religious person, but he at least understands and embraces the cultural significance of what he is able to do

This is where he learned how to read a person's Spirit to get an idea of their life experiences and the kind of person they're like; he can also detect where a person is without having to put much effort into it

At Zelda's encouragement, he also got more sword training from the Castle Guard. She offered him a place among them, but he turned it down in favor of remaining an engineer. He still helps around as a swordsman when he can and will act as Zelda's body guard

Speaking of which, he and Zelda are 100% in love. Their relationship started out as puppy love but over the years as matured into a deep connection built on mutual respect

When he's working on designing new engines or parts for his trains, he occasionally brings his drafting materials to the castle gardens so that he can work alongside Zelda; sometimes she falls asleep leaning against his arm and he has to be careful not to shake her awake as he works

Whenever she need to go anywhere in the kingdom, she rides in his train and teasingly criticizes his conducting; he takes a lot of pride in his conducting, but he lets her get away with it since her critiques are objectively hilarious

He keeps a tiny pictograph of her taped to his dashboard

But there's a bit of a problem with their relationship, and it's that he doesn't know if he wants to be the prince consort or not. He does love her, but that would mean giving up being an engineer in favor of being stuck at the castle all of the time

Plus, he's doing great as an engineer; he's saving up to open his own garage that produces his own train designs

Eventually, he leaves for the War of Eras

His experiences with Warriors leaves him more sure than ever that he doesn't want to be the prince consort, resulting in him ending his relationship with Zelda shortly after he returns home

It hurts for a long time to be around her since all of his old feelings keep coming back, so he keeps his distance for a long time; it takes a few years for him to go back to hanging out with Zelda as friends

But now she's approaching marriage age, and he spends a lot of time when he's on body guard duty super jealous of these princes and ambassadors from foreign kingdoms who try to court her

But again, he knows he can't be in a relationship with her so he respectfully and silently pines over her (I'm just a sucker for pining, okay?)

Okay, more random headcanons that are a little less sad

Spirits likes super spicy food, but since he can't cook to save his own life, he just eats whatever he can get his hands on

He's super dirty all of the time, just the epitome of scrappy; there's always a smear of oil somewhere on his person

He actually really hates bathing and only keeps his curly hair in check to comply with train safety regulations

He's really polite and a little shy, but once he loosens up, he gets talkative and personable

He's also very contemplative; he likes conducting so much because he gets to spend long stretches of time alone with nothing but his thoughts

His trauma/stress response is to shut down; he goes quiet, loses energy, and sleeps for longer periods of time

He tends to gravitate towards socializing with people who are older than him, which gets him labeled as being no fun by his peers (despite having someone as cooky as Niko for a uncle)

Post-adventure, his best friend is Linebeck III. They're drinking buddies. Neither can really explain why they even like hanging out as much as they do

(I just like the idea of Linebeck accidentally getting attached to one kid and his whole bloodline getting forever tangled with Wind's; they're bros for multiple lifetimes)

Not only is Spirits good at designing and building new machinery, but he's great at tinkering; he can fix almost anything and will buy broken things on purpose just to have something to fix

No one really knows he's a hero; he doesn't like the attention and, at his request, Zelda did her best to keep his involvement with Malladus a secret

Because not many common people know about his adventure and records of New Hyrule are very rare, he's considered in Warrior's time to be a forgotten hero; some scholars believe that a Hero of Spirits may have once existed, but if he did, no one really knows who he was or what he did to serve the bloodline of Hylia

[rumblelibrary]

In the ball, Doctor!Reader was holding a fan, light blue dress. Reader surprised that Laszlo just came. Reader wants to tell Laszlo that you are private secretary for the Queen and still doctor. Laszlo was surprise as such much. You were talking about why I become private secretary is that the father was captain for the Queen. Laszlo feel the sorry about father of yours. You give sweetest compliment to Laszlo. As Laszlo approached to you closely. Just a lips were attach each other. They are chuckling how precious it is.

(thank you very much for writing that headcanons, you are such sweetest! mwah )

Worlds Apart [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Doctor!Reader]

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: no warnings, but a very interested Laszlo

Author’s note: hope you enjoy my little product here, <3

A ball is always a lavish event, like it or not, it never failed to impress you the extremes people were able to reach in the name of luxury and social status.

You fanned your way around the room, your light blue dress meeting the lights would shine of a proper life, reminder of the clear blue waters you travelled to come to the event.

You weren’t fond of social events, not because you weren’t used to attend one, but you were hoping to meet someone in particular during this visit in New York. Once you found yourself in such a peculiar moment of your life, you also found yourself guiding your own thoughts on the memory of a man in particular that crossed paths with you a number of times.

“Doctor Y/N” the British ambassador smiled “have you adjusted yourself to the party?” He asked, being your escort for the evening, but also a dear friend of your family he relied upon himself to be your familiar face for the evening. 

“How can somebody not adjust to a party of this measure?” You asked back at him making him chuckle under his big moustaches.

It was when he was about to introduce you to the tenth diplomat of the evening that something attracted your attention. You couldn’t really put a finger on what it was, a movement, a gesture, something that you saw in the corner of your eye.

When you finally recognised the familiar figure you were looking for, you two met in scientific meetings, then on few private dinners and occasion, a man hard to forget, hard to let the experience of him and his ways not get into the way of judging any other man that ever approached you.

A man like him shouldn’t fear comparison.

You excused yourself politely as you approached him, but he already saw you. It was impossible to miss a sight like yours.

“What a surprise, Dr Kreizler”

Laszlo couldn’t hide his own amazement, but the way you approached him mesmerised him already, a smile curling onto his lips showing the undeniable pleasure he had from seeing you.

“Dr. Y/L/N” he said with a smile approaching you “I didn’t expect to meet you here, I thought you were staying over in England”

You smiled “I was, I came for some diplomatic matters”

He was once more taken aback, a soft blink of his eyes, his head lightly titling on side.“Never thought I had to thank any European diplomacy in my experience, until now”

You smirked, he wasn’t a cheeky man, but he knew how to show his interest.

He leaned aside as a waiter passed by with a tray of champagne glasses, Laszlo picked one handing it to you as you let your fan hang by the lace that held it to your wrist. He collected a glass for himself as he leaned on his side offering you his right arm for you to hold onto to walk around the party and also leave the centre of the scene.

“My condolences for your father” he said quietly, of course the news reached him and he sent the kindest letter to you in that grieving occasion, but he wanted to taste the water and see how you were dealing with it. One could call it an occupational hazard, but it was more than that to him.

“Don’t dwell onto it, my father had a long and fulfilling life, one that a daughter is proud to share” you assured him and he nodded taking in your words.

“His role as Captain General of Queen’s guards granted me a new occupation as Her Majesty’s secretary, a role that I wouldn’t have achieved without the countless hours of work and devotion he spent to her service”

Laszlo nodded quietly, part of him despising a bit your father’s good diligence to his role, because that same gift he gave to you also brought you far away from him. In another country, somewhere that made it only harder to him to reach you, but not easier to forget you.

“And what about your professional career? Have you given up the alienist in you?”

You smiled and shook your head

“How could I? Bad habits are hard to erase”

He chuckled as to call your shared doctorate a bad habit was probably the most appropriate definition considering how he got tangled into solving murder cases because of unsolved mysteries into his professional studies.

“How is it?”

A simple question that nevertheless put you in a space of silence for few moments.

“Not easy” you said at first “I mean, the thrill is the amount of new people to meet, the experiences, the different cultures, it is like travelling around the world without leaving my office, scheduling talks and meetings, learning about foreign politics”

“And the less thrilling?”

You chuckled as he just had to do it, he just had to find the little ‘but’.

“Less thrilling, the amount of etiquette and how something we read as normal can be mistaken by other eyes”

He nodded as he listened carefully to you, the wonder still in his mind if even coming from the same background he could still be misunderstood.

More than him, his intentions.

He stared at you as your little stroll brought the both of you to more quiet surroundings, the chats fading slowly in the background, while the music was a more pleasurable companion to your little conversation.

A sense of urgency creeping over him, the need to ask you how long were you staying, if you were going to leave any time soon, if there was time, any time, left.

“I have read your latest articles” you said and he blushed visibly not expecting you to have done so, distracting him from his doubts and wonders.

“For real?” He asked a bit more innocently than he intended, naturally flattered by your admission.

“I did” you assured him “I am collecting them, you’re becoming quite famous in your field, the benefits of your job must be showing on every child that has the luck to be relied into your care”

By now his smile was permanent, that inner sweetness he so hard defended shining bright onto him only by naming ‘his’ kids.

You admired his devotion to the Institute, his dedication to help them, always reaching beyond his own possibilities.

“Don’t look at me like that” he said only.

“Why not? Have I lied?”

“You’re being too generous with yours words”

“And you too miser about it”

He smirked once more as he couldn’t possibly win against you, guiding you among the luscious flowers display of the decor he stopped resting his untouched champagne on the edge of a vase to take your hand.

“How long can I benefit of your presence, my dear?”

You were surprised of the nickname, he was burning bridges, but who wouldn’t when fighting against time.

“I will be staying two more weeks”

He smiled, his thumb slowly tracing the back of your gloved hand.

“It seems a lot and nothing at the same time” he assures to you, your smile playing onto him with untold feelings that he hinted so many times, it felt almost foolish to even express them with else than actions.

He leaned in, a sudden lack of courage creeping in until your eyes met his, the certain feeling to be corresponded warming his chest.

Your neck stretched out a bit toward him as he slowly closed the space between your lips.

There, hidden among the luscious flowers coming from the far east to adorne a ball, you found yourself welcomed by the loving certainty of Laszlo’s affections.

No more hinting, no more hidden sweetnesses and tender talks.

You felt true and real, you felt like life could welcome you again after all the changes and the grief. You never realised how unsettled you felt, how much you were waiting for it, until your lips parted.

He looked down at you as your lips granted him another smile and soft chuckle.

The happiness you felt in this moment never been so real, so pure.

The honesty of his feelings leaving you doubtless.

It was a matter on what country you were, but who was with you.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved​ @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44​ @celtic-witch-bitch Let me know if you want to get tagged too <3

[astrologyanon]

About Chris Evans, there are rumours about him having a girlfriend and it could be serious, some might think it could end up in pregnancy. Thank you again!

❤️ Let’s take a look.

Mr. Evans’ 5th house is in Pisces, which is ruled by Jupiter. That would be fantastic and point towards a BUNCH of kids if it was not in his 12th house. This suggests he will not have kids ever, his child may pass, go to jail or be disabled*. I’m leaning more towards the first option.

All that being said, he is in a 5th house profected year at 40 years old and the year ruler, Jupiter, recently ingressed into Pisces, his 5th house. These are all big, classic pregnancy indicators. However, Jupiter is now in retrograde and will ingress back into his 4th house. Jupiter in 4th is still an indicator of growth in the home but Aquarius is a bit restrictive for Jupiter, being a Saturn ruled signed. These are all specific transits, so perhaps having a child was heavily discussed, really a option but now there’s this walking back on topic for some reason. For romance, this movement could indicate having fun, meeting people and having luck in romance but then moving back into that comfortable, secure private life. Again, because this is Jupiter, it’s no hate, everything is COOL but a decision was walked back for sure.

Jupiter will be in his 5th house basically all next year so. 🤔 I’m kind of stumped because this is a very “barren” chart. This is textbook What You Learn In Astrology School That Points to No Kids but then his Jupiter is pretty well conditioned… perhaps he’ll adopt or something? I’m going to keep an eye on him next year for sure. He could also be working behind the scenes on a really important creative project.

As far as serious relationship goes, his 7th house ruler is Venus in 9th house. His 7th house is in Taurus which is a fixed sign. If he’s going to get married it will likely be the once and for good. 9th house placement suggest marriage to someone with a foreign culture to him, religious or a writer/reader/scholar (I know he’s been with Jenny Slate who is Jewish while he is Catholic/Buddhist and Minka Kelly who is part Indonesian). He has Chiron (vulnerability) in his 7th house so he has trouble with relationships, with marriage. He’s hurting and healing at the same time. He probably gets broken up with instead of breaking up with others. This is a tough aspect, combined with his Scorpio Moon. He will likely need someone with aspects to his Chiron to help heal that in order for marriage to happen.

Uranus is also in Taurus right now and will be until 2025 so any foundation he tries to make right now with relationships will be disrupted. And conjunct his Chiron too 😭 no this is disastrous and I don’t say that lightly. It’s like he’s trying to be different or unconventional in the relationship and no one is taking to it and instead he’s being rejected.

It doesn’t look like anything serious is happening in his relationships right now and won’t for a moment. With Jupiter in his 5th house he was probably having fun dates and meeting people but nothing super substantial it seems. I don’t know where those rumors came from, he probably was dating around but the chart doesn’t really point towards pregnancy or long term / serious relationship!

profection - your birth chart is timeless, says that something will happen but not when. profections are a timing technique that uses symbolic time to indicate what part of your chart is activated and when. Your first house is activated from 0-1 years old, your 2nd house from 1-2, so on and so forth.

ingress - to move from one sign to the next

Houses mentioned -

4th- home, family, privacy, secrets you’re keeping from others

5th- children, creation, romance, pleasure

7th- marriage, public relationships

9th- foreign travel and people, writing and publishing, religion and higher education

12th- hidden limitations, loss, mental health, seclusion (more of an involuntary nature as opposed to 4th house), secrets kept from you, unseen danger, murder, etc

*when I say disabled that’s due to the theme of hidden limitations. Your child being in the 12th house could be limited by a hidden force such as genetics. Astrology shows the entire life so yes, it can indicate this sort of thing as well as mental health and more!

[divinefireangel]

You are my Honey and my Forever Moon

SF9 Inseong x Wife! Reader Fluffy Smut.

ADORABABY ADORABABY ADORABABY ADORABABY ADORABABY ADORABABY

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. If this piece of fan fiction is offensive to any celebrity, fandom or culture please let me know so I can take it down. Also note that this is my version of a character or celeb, which will vary from person to person.

Author's Note: I finally got to finishing this request!! 🥳 Not gonna lie I kinda like this one lol. I have a free day tomorrow so let's hope I post tomorrow as well🤞

Copyright: Please note that this is my work and if you want to publish this on any other platform, take my permission before doing so. Taking an author's work and posting it somewhere else without any intimation is just disrespectful. I readily welcome suggestions and criticisms. That being said, Happy reading! 🤍

Warnings: 18+ ages and female readers (nothing specified with respect to appearance, etc of reader). Tbh all can read it. Soft sex. Unprotected sex (just don't do this unless you want kids). Probably slow burn I'm not sure. Sexy but soft Inseong 😂. Lmk if I need to add more! Italics is flashback.

Requested: YES. By our fav @inseongsfoxybae

Hey, babe Sush 🥰🥰🥰 Can I request something?

Would you mind writing a honeymoon scenario with Seongie? Smuty and with a lot of softness at the same time 👉🏻👈🏻

Oh babe I hope you like it and that this makes your day a lil better 💞❣

1.8k Words

Staring down at your left ring finger, you traced the new golden band that your finger adorned. Smiling, you remember the moment that changed your life forever. Finally, you were each other's happily ever after. How did you get so lucky to have Kim Inseong fall in love with you, you'll never know. But what you do know, is that there is no one in the world whom you can love as much as him.

You remember the look he gave you just before you got wedded, standing opposite you holding your hands in his, that always fit together like a puzzle, the moment in which you knew, there is no one who will love you as much as him. Seeing his love filled expression, reminded you of every single time he looked at you like that. The first time he saw you on your first date, the first time he saw you all glamed up, the first time he saw your natural perfections, the first time he saw you naked, the first time he kissed you, the first time he smiled at you, the first time he smiled because of you, the first time you made him laugh, the first time he saw you laugh, the first time he saw you dance your little happy dance because you got your favourite food, the first time you told him you loved him, the first time you held him when he cried, the first time you let him sleep on top of you after a long day and the first time he realized you were the one he was looking for his entire life.

And since all those firsts, he's looked at you the same way. Because he doesn't know how else to look at you. You, his soulmate, his eternal love, his forever and forevermore.

Gathering the crowd's attention, the officiate began the ceremony.

"Dearly beloved, we are present here, to experience the blessed union of Ms. Y/N L/N and Mr. Kim Inseong. As I start, I have a passage to read, written by me, about falling in love.

When you hear the word falling, it's generally assumed to be a neutral word. No one prefers to fall willingly. But falling in love, is one of the purest ways to use the word falling. Not a single person is scared of falling like this. Falling from a height of course is scary for most." The crowd laughs at this remark. Smiling, the officiate continued.

"Well now really when we go back then to falling in love. And say it's crazy. We don't say rising into love. The moment you enter any kind of human undertaking relationship, you've given yourself up. But this is the most powerful thing that can be done. Surrender, you see. And love, is an act of surrender to another person. I give myself to you.

These two young people standing here, in front of each other, have surrendered themselves to one another, creating a strong bond, and I pray, that it only gets stronger with time." Staring into each other's teary yet love filled eyes, Y/N and Inseong slipped on a band on their ring fingers to indicate their eternal love.

"What are you thinking about my love? " Handing you a glass of champagne, your husband asked you.

"Just..... Us. "

"Us? " He questions chuckling, sitting next to you on the couch in your hotel room, which is rented for your honeymoon.

Humming a yes, you lean in to kiss him. Meeting you halfway, Inseong attached your lips together, as a hand stroked your hair.

"Don't you want to change into your nightwear? " Tilting your head innocently, you looked at your husband in curiosity.

"I kinda have other plans." He said sheepishly grinning at your confused demeanour. Placing the two identical glasses on a table nearby, Inseong grabs your face gently with both his hands, connecting your lips again.

Carefully he moves his hands to your hair, trying to find for things that may hurt you when you laid down on the bed. Removing the U pins from your hairbun, he slowly lets your hair down. Breaking the kiss completely, staring at your with a soft smile, warming your heart, he moves to remove your earrings and other jewelry.

Chewing in anticipation on your bottom lip, you lift your fingers to unbutton the buttons of his dress shirt. This action isn't something foreign to either of you, having done this multiple times before in the past. But this time, today, right now, is just more softer, more intimate.

By the time you finish his dress shirt, he's already pulled down the zipper of your dress.

Admiring you again, he moves his hand to the side of your face, slowly pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

Moving the same hand to the back of your head, he tilts your head up, engulfing your lips again in a needy kiss. A kiss of this type from him never fails to make you lose balance, lose your sense of presence of mind and makes you aroused enough to close your eyes as a your lower abdomen starts heating up for attention.

Breathing into each other, you stand up taking his hand and pull him towards the bed, stopping at its foot. Slowly you slide off him shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall on the floor. Looking up at him through your lashes, you bite your lower lip, as you feel yourself getting wetter by the minute. How can you not be wet when you have such a sexy husband? Smirking a little, Inseong traces your skin from your neck to your shoulders to your back, gliding your dress down near his shirt. Taking your delicate hands in his, he gazes down your body, the tent forming in his pants approving your pretty lingerie. How did he get so lucky to have found you. You goddess of a being, so in love with him, a mere man who worships you more than anything.

Placing your hands around his neck, he leans down to kiss your lush lips, as his hands go down your body, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra, and settling on your waist for a moment, before going down to reach the back of your thighs. Lifting you up without breaking the kiss, Inseong kneels on the bed as your legs wrap around him in instinct. Laying you down lovingly on the bed, your husband looks into your eyes, with that sweet look of his. For him although, he feels like he is looking at you for the first time ever, starting from your forehead to the distance between your eyebrows, to your cute nose and to your parted lips, waiting to be kissed again.

Swallowing in the sight below, his lips find themselves at the base of your jaw. Sucking there lightly, Inseong rolls his hips such that his clothed length rubs against your core. Even with so many layers you could feel the outline of his dick. Kissing down till your neck and collarbone, he continues to grind into you, groaning when he feels your nails scratch his back.

Gasping at a sudden forceful thrust, you wrap your legs tighter around his waist. Detaching his lips from your body, he sits on his knees, looking down at your, enjoying the view of you in your loving needy state. Making eye contact, he unbuckles his belt removing it sexily, followed by his pants and boxers. Placing his hands on your bent knees, he moves his torso up as his hands glide freely from your knees through the top of your thighs, coming to a still on your hips.

Leaning down, Inseong kisses your lips again, as his fingertips trace the upper elastic of your panties. Grabbing ahold of them, he peels your panties down your legs and throws it to the side. One of his hands comes next to your head to support himself up as he stays close to you, kissing till you run out of air in your lungs, while the other takes liberty to part your folds.

Sighing into your mouth, he spreads your wetness from your entrance to your clit, giving it a few strokes to stimulate you more. Moaning into the kiss, you silently beg for more, wanting more, more of him in you, taking you to paradise.

Removing his fingers from your folds, he breaks the kiss just to rile you up more by sucking them as his eyes never left yours. Biting your lip you look at him with pleading eyes. Dropping his cockiness at your cuteness, he slowly guides the head of his cock to your entrance, nudging it in little by little, letting you get used to his size. Pecking your forehead repeatedly Inseong bottoms out into you. Stilling for a moment, he takes your hand in his free hand, bringing it up to kiss your knuckles.

Melting at this sweet gesture, you intertwine your fingers together, as your eyes close overwhelmed by the feeling of his cock starting to move back and forth, in and out of you slowly. Petting your hair with the hand that's next to your head, Inseong joins your lips again, but only for a small kiss. He then proceeds to kiss your cheeks, your nose, your eyebrows, your eyelids, your chin, your jaw, your forehead and back to your lips, all while rutting his pelvis against yours in a loving pace.

This isn't the first time he's made love to you. He's done that multiple times and more. But now, you are his wife and he wants nothing but to take care of you and your burdens and to keep you happy. He wants to spoil you in every way possible. He wants you fulfilled to the maximum extent, and he will do anything for you and your future together to be as perfect as possible.

Moaning his name, when you feel yourself coming closer to the edge, you clench your walls around him. Shuddering in response, he increases his pace to help you both have a blissful orgasm. Nuzzling his nose against yours, he squeezes your intertwined fingers looking back up into your eyes, wordlessly conveying that he is close. So so close to you.

"I love you" He whispers roughly, feeling his release approaching.

"I love you too" You gasp as you tighten your legs around him, clenching your walls as you come undone below your lover. Repeating your name as if it's the only word he knows, Inseong comes down slowly from his high, falling on top of you as slowly as he can.

Pressing your foreheads together, you catch your breath, hugging each other. Setting his head in between your shoulder and neck, Inseong starts to feel drowsy. How cute, you think fondly as you wrap your arms securely around you lover, your husband, playing with his hair as he drifts to sleep with you in his arms, and you following him soon after.

[dragonfiremage]

Destiny - Chapter Two

 Author’s Note: First off, thank you so much for the wonderful likes, reblogs, and interest in this story. I honestly didn’t think much of it when I wrote this and published it on Tumblr. This was just in head bothering me and I needed to write it down. So I’m glad some of you are enjoying it!

Some of you have asked to be in a taglist, and to be honest, I really don’t know how to make one? LOL I stopped using Tumblr like five years ago and this is kinda new to me again so if you’re interested in a taglist and can message me on how to create one, please do so!

Again, please let me know what you think. I tried editing this as best as I could so if you see anything off, please let me know :)

Enjoy! <3 <3

[Previous - Chapter One] 

[Next - Chapter Three]

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Sneering, you whisper lowly, "Don't you dare use your fire on me." 

Zuko eyes were fixed on the horizon, his hold on the ostrich horse's reins tighten slightly as he could feel his Uncle start to lean toward one side, a tell-tale sign that he was starting to drift asleep.They've been traveling all day, making their way towards the Misty Palms Oasis, but the sudden attack from the Rough Rhinos had set them back a couple of hours. 

As the continued on their trek, Zuko started to wonder why they were going to the Misty Palms Oasis in the first place, but his Uncle had insisted. When pressing him further, all he got was some meaningless metaphor, that he was pretty sure that his Uncle made up on the spot, and some tea advice. 

The skies were starting to darken, the temperature cooling down significantly as well. Zuko looked above him at the vast expanse of the sky, the stars starting to twinkle even more. 

Zuko grunts in reply, nodding his head towards a village ahead before urgijg the ostrich horse to pick up some speed. “No - I think we still have a day and half’s worth of journey by the looks of it. We need to set up camp and get some more food.” 

Scanning the horizon once again, Zuko's gaze lands on some twinkling lights from a nearby village and he nudges his Uncle awake. Iroh jerks suddenly and clears his throat as if to cover the fact he was snoring just a second ago.

“Are we at the Misty Palms already?” Iroh asks. 

Iroh perked up at the idea of food. “Food sounds delicious right now. I could really go for some tea right now too. And music!" 

Zuko grumbled, Ugh, what now? I just want some peace and quiet. Why is it never JUST peace and quiet... 

Zuko nodded in agreement. They’ve been traveling all day under the hot sun and some needed refreshments to cool off sounded nice.  The thought of an actual bed and some real food had him urging the ostrich horse to go faster. He was tired of scavenging desert critters for food. As they got closer to the village, both Zuko and Iroh were surprised to see a crowd of people entering the village. The sound of music and cheers also started to become louder. 

They tie up their ostrich horse at nearby barn where they paid for extra feed for the poor ostrich horse. As soon as the animal was in the barn, it collapsed out of exhaustion and Zuko was glad that he could at least give the poor beast some rest. He hesitated...Did he just get sentimental over an ostrich horse? 

“Come on, Zuko. There seems to be an event going on in the village. From what I smell, there seems to be lots of tasty food as well.” Iroh wore a warm smile on his face as he rubbed his round belly in hunger. Zuko’s own stomach grumbled as if on cue, and he placed a hand over it. He looks at his uncle with a sharp nod. 

“Ok, uncle. But we should also find a place to stay for the night.” 

A group of kids ran past him, making him stumble towards a vendor who was selling hats. “Hey watch it! You’re going to flatten my them!” 

Iroh nods and turns to the village entrance where Zuko could see kids and other villagers happily run around. As they walk through the market, the sights of roasted pig chickens, roasted ducks, and much to Zuko’s disgust, roasted scorpions and beetles were also everywhere. He looked warily at the roasted critters and shivered in disgust. His Uncle, however, was happily munching away on anything he could put his hands on. The music was lively and it made Zuko almost miss home - the festivals that he used to go to, the markets that he and his Mom would visit… 

“Sorry..” 

The vendor glares at Zuko and shakes his head, pointing at the kids that had just ran past, “The event must be starting soon.” 

The vendor’s glare deepened, if that was possible. He waved a hat at their faces, “You guys foreigners or somethin’? This event is FAMOUS around these parts. Fighters from neighboring villagers train all year for this. On the second Tuesday of every month during this time of the year, these fighters go head to head at a chance to win the winning pot. Only catch is…no bending! It makes it more of even playing field, if you will. It's what we call entertainment around here. Tonight is the preliminaries so there should be lots of entertainment!” 

Zuko raises a curious brow. That definitely piqued his Uncle's interest. “Event?”

Zuko nods and thanks the vendor. Iroh looks at Zuko with excitement, his hands up in a fighting stance. “We should watch a couple of matches while we’re here, nephew. Participating in other cultures opens your mind to new opportunities and learnings!” 

Zuko couldn’t help but chuckle. "Let's go and watch then. But only a couple!... since we need to find a place tonight if we want to leave early tomorrow." 

Iroh nods in response, a gleeful expression on his face as he points at a crowd going to a large tent just outside of the market. 

Zuko would never admit it to his Uncle, but he was actually excited. It would be good to watch some entertainment. It would be a nice change of pace - traveling all day and all night, seeing nothing but sky and sand was becoming mundane. There had been already countless nights where he would just stare up at the night sky and watch the stars for entertainment. Watching sweaty people beat up each other sounded entertaining. 

The first few matches were boring, much to Zuko’s disappointment. It was either a quick match where one of the fighters would just overpower the other in strength or size, or it would drag on until the one of them collapsed in exhaustion. He thought about how easily he could defeat these any of these fighters with swing of fire bending, but then remembered that it wasn’t allowed. He grunted and crossed his arms, he thought this was going to be more exciting but all he was doing was sitting with a bunch of sweaty men who had been working under the hot sun all day. 

“Let’s go.”

-----------------------

The first few matches were boring, much to Zuko’s disappointment. It was either a quick match where one of the fighters would just overpower the other in strength or size, or it would drag on until the one of them collapsed in exhaustion. He thought about how easily he could defeat these any of these fighters with swing of fire bending, but then remembered that it wasn’t allowed. He grunted and crossed his arms, he thought this was going to be more exciting but all he was doing was sitting with a bunch of sweaty men who had been working under the hot sun all day.

The lights dimmed and the crowded began to murmur in excitement. Zuko looks around, curious at the added drama effects.

“Alright folks! This should be a good one. Introducing…your last year’s champion - the Blue Dragon!” 

The lights dimmed and the crowded began to murmur in excitement. Zuko looks around, curious at the added drama effects. 

From one end of the ring, a figure appeared and walked up to the stage, a blue dragon mask covering the fighter’s face. When the figure came into view, the crowd went wild. There were hoots and whistles all around the crowd, while others clapped. 

“And the formidable opponent - the Striking Scorpion!” 

The crowd becomes even wilder. Zuko sees more commotion at the front and notices people doubling their bets with coins.  A crowd of women at the front all swooned and fanned themselves as the Striking Scorpio flexed his arms to them, his white shirt straining against the muscles. Zuko rolls his eyes and looks over at the other fighter again, who was a lot calmer and stiller than the opponent. 

“I guess he’s the fan favorite?” Iroh whispers to Zuko who just nods in agreement. Zuko became more intrigued, this was the first fighter who wore a mask on stage and he wondered why. He strained his neck to get a good look at the him, but was completely blocked when the announcer brought out the next fighter which brought more people to their feet.

“Wait…she’s the reining champion!? How in the hog monkeys is she going to win? The Striking Scorpion’s biceps is twice as big as her head! She has no chance.” The men in front of him shook their heads while they expressed their disbelief, continuing to dismiss the Blue Dragon. 

Zuko’s eyes snapped back to look at the fighter. Wait...She?! How did he miss that? 

Under the twinkling lets of the tent, he could faintly see her but he could definitely tell that the Blue Dragon was girl. Zuko pursed his lips. Even though she was the champion, she was a lot smaller than the Scorpion. Though if Zuko knew anything, it was to never underestimate your opponent. After all, he did get beat by the young Avatar.

Suddenly, he was very interested in watching this match, his back stiffer as he sat back down. He looked over at Iroh who appeared to be swooning a lady to his right who was laughing and nodding at everything he was saying. His uncle can be such a ladies man. 

Zuko shook his head in exasperation and took a bite from his roasted pig chicken skewer, his gaze going back to the stage as the two fighters took their position as they stood on opposite sides of the ring. 

The two fighters faced each other, the Blue Dragon bowing in respect before going into a fighting stance. Immediately, Zuko takes note of the her stance. It was very similar to stance for fire-bending. The squared shoulders, strong footing. Zuko’s eyes narrow even more as he wonders if this fighter was a fire-bender. 

Interesting. 

The bell goes off and the Scorpion wastes no time by leaping high into the air with his arm drawn back, using his weight and gravity to land a hard hitting punch down to the ground where the Blue Dragon stood. Immediately, the fighters were surrounded by smoke and debris, not clear to the crowd if the Scorpion had indeed landed his punch. 

"Told ya the Blue Dragon didn't stand a chance!” The men in front of Zuko chortled with amusement as his friend smacks his own forehead in defeat.

"Yay the Scorpion!!” Suddenly someone in the crowd yelled in victory and then the crowd erupted with cheers. It soon faded, however, when the dust settled, and crowd gasps in disbelief when they realize there was nothing there. Zuko’s brows raise in question.  The Blue Dragon wasn’t there! Not even a body laid on the ground, unconscious. 

The Scorpion ignores it and continues to  shake his hands together in victory before flexing for the crowd of women at the front who all swooned. The crowd became surprisingly quiet, murmuring to each other about the Blue Dragon’s short demise. 

The crowd gasps again and points towards the corner edge of the ring. She had managed to avoid the punch altogether and was now just sitting on the ring's outer railing as if she had been there the whole time. 

"You're slow for someone who's supposed to be striking." 

Zuko choked on his piece of roasted pig chicken meat. How did she escape that?

“What in the hogmonkeys?!" The scorpion screeches. "Nobody avoids the Striking Scorpion!” The opponent ran towards the Blue Dragon as she took her stance again and when Striking Scorpion lunged forward, this time the Blue Dragon didn’t avoid it but remained rooted in her spot. When he got near, she shifted her foot to the left and she evaded his right hook. She dropped low and delivered an uppercut to the scorpion's ribcage.

It must have been some punch because now the scorpion was stumbling back and heaving, as if out of breath. He snarled at her, frustrated, and lunged at her again, his arm extending to deliver a punch. She ducked under his arm, grabbing it before spinning to get behind him and pinning his arm to his back. She used her momentum and her weight to let fall forward, bringing the Scorpion down as he lands face first onto the ground with one hand pinned behind him. 

The Scorpion groaned and yelped, trying to strike at her while pinned. He swung his free arm around, trying to grab at her and she was straining to hold him back properly. He managed to grab her arm and tugged, throwing her off a balance and making her roll forward. 

The Blue Dragon took an offensive and lunged forward. Before the Scorpion could even stand on both feet, an uppercut to his jaw sent him stumbling backwards and the crowd cheers.

The Scorpion growls, fuming at her. With renewed strength, he ran forward again, but this time, he seemed more tactical now that he realized that his opponent was playing smart. The Scorpion threw a right hook like last time, and just as he expected, the Blue Dragon shifted her weight so as to shuffle to the left, but the Scorpion quickly readjusted and swings his arm for a right hook. 

The Scorpion snarls at her. “You! No one gets to push me to ground." 

The crowd gasps as his fist lands across the cheek and she stumbled backwards, fall to one knee. The impact caused a crack on her mask and the Scorpion grins toothily. 

She barely had time to roll from her kneeling position to move before he was lunging at her again. She rolled to the side, evading a kick and flipping back to avoid another kick. It was like for few seconds - the Scorpion would continue to deliver blow after blow while the Blue Dragon continued to evade it. Zuko could feel the end of the match coming. One wrong footing, one miscalculation, and she could be off the ring. 

"Let's take a look at behind the mask!" 

Before she could flip out of the way again however, the Scorpion managed to grab hold of her foot and pulled hard. She stumbled forward right into another hook. Zuko grimaced when he heard the contact, but gasped when the crack on the mask deepened until it cracked all the way and split. The pieces falling to the ground with a clack. 

Zuko's eyes travels from the blue mask on the ground and then upwards, finally getting a look at the Blue Dragon’s face. And when he did, his eyes widens. A pair of amber eyes, just like his, gleamed under the lights of the tent. Those eyes…they were so familiar. He shook from his stupor. That was stupid. Just because she has eyes like his doesn't mean she was from fire nation or that he knew her.

The crowd goes silent. 

But it was the slight curl of your lips and the small dimple on the right cheek that had him go rigid next to Iroh. An image of a young servant girl grinning over a fruit pastry covered in flour flashes behind his eyes and he blinks back. 

His Uncle must felt his change because Iroh whispers, “Is everything ok?" 

Zuko shakes his head. It couldn't be. "She look familiar to you Uncle?" 

Iroh's gaze move from him to the now unmasked fighter. He strokes his beard, deep in thought. "Hmmm…she looks like a regular fighter to me!" Iroh laughs after some thought, but paused. "Though, her stance and movement is very similar to a fire bender. That might just be a coincidence, no?" 

Zuko's eyes narrows, he could tell Iroh knew something by the slight twinkle in his uncle’s eyes before dismissing it as a trick of light and returns his gaze back to the fighter. The prince couldn’t shake off this feeling though, like he knew her. It didn’t add up though, why would you be in the Earth Kingdom? The last time he heard of you, you were sent off to another palace to serve a high ranking general. He crossed his arms, deep in thought. 

He sees your grit your teeth, snarling at the Scorpion who was laughing and lapping up all the cheers from the crowd.

-----------------------

No, no, no, noooo! My mask...

The Scorpion was starting to make you mad. That mask took weeks to put together! "That was my favorite mask, you bozo! And now, you're going to pay." 

You run towards the Scorpion, and at the last second, you duck  and spin to the right to avoid his jab and you deliver a blow right under his left ribcage, mirroring the one you delivered earlier. 

The Scorpion huffs and gasps for air. He barely had time to avoid a kick before he scrambled away from your quick advances. 

Your opponent took a misstep as he stumbled backwards, giving you the opportunity to shuffle to your right and swing your arm for a right hook. You manage to connect your fist to his jaw as falls backwards at the impact, falling to the floor with a groan.  Smirking at your small victory, and as you scan the crowd, your eyes connect to pair of amber eyes like your own, his left eye surrounded by a scar. His eyes seem to shine under the lights and it roots you to your spot. The noise of the crowd disappears and it feels like your breath is stuck in your throat. 

It was him.

No one else has amber eyes that fierce with a scar like that. You knew of only one person who fit that description.

Zuko.

You couldn’t rip your eyes away from his, the sound of the crowd fading as you stood frozen on the ring as you stared at each other. Zuko had grown a lot from the young boy you used to know. His looks had matured and the scowl in his face was enough to tell you that things have definitely changed. But you couldn’t see passed the boy prince you used to know...the innocence in his eyes, the carefree way he would laugh. But this wasn’t him. He was different. 

The Scorpion uses your hesitance to lunge forward again, swinging for a right hook. It catches you off guard and you react too late. You could see Zuko’s eyes widen right before you saw stars. The hit makes you stumble backwards, the sound of the crowd coming back as as you taste the familiar copper tang coating your mouth. 

No more distractions. 

Wiping the blood that dribbled down your chin with the back of your hand, you narrowed your eyes at the Scorpion who was grinning smugly. 

You both lunge at each other at the same time, and at the last second, you notice that his cloth belt had become loose sometime during the fine. A smirk tugged at your lips and with a shuffle to the left and a duck to miss a swing, you did a quick maneuver with his belt and you were able to pull it free from its loops. You grabbed his wrists and spun to move behind him, tying his wrists together and pushing him forward towards the edge of the ring, letting gravity do the rest of the work. 

Without the Scorpion’s belt holding up his pants, it dropped to his ankles, and with his momentum pulling him forward, he steps on his on one of his loose pant leg and trips. Unable to steady himself without the aid of his hands, the Scorpion tumbles straight over the ring’s edge and falls over, disqualified. 

You smirk as the crowd erupts in laughter and cheers, some coins being thrown your way. You pick up your broken mask on the way down the steps, but not before catching his eyes again. 

----------------------

It had to be you. When their eyes met briefly, it was as if Zuko was transported back to when he first met you - in the kitchens with you covered in flour. You still had that annoying sideways grin that you had when you were both younger, framed by the small dimple on your right cheek. 

And now, Zuko was unable to tear his eyes away from you. He reels back at the stark contrast between that eight year old servant girl that he used to know and the girl he sees in the arena. Here you were now, standing your ground against a man twice as big as you. 

He knew that you knew that it was him. The stare down made it obvious…otherwise, you wouldn’t have hesitated like that and moved out of the way before getting punched in the face. He actually felt bad for that. 

But the way you quickly out-maneuvered the Scorpion, using nothing but a cloth belt and momentum to win the fight made him oddly proud, the feeling swelling in his chest. You were a fighter, that much he could tell. 

But question started racing through his mind.

Why were you here? Why were you fighting? Did you leave the Fire Nation on your own? What happened to your family?

“You look deep in thought, nephew.” 

Iroh’s low voice cut through Zuko’s brooding. Zuko sighed before replying, “I…I can’t be sure, but I think that fighter - the Blue Dragon - I think I know her. Her mother used to be my mother’s right hand maid so I would see her at the palace from time to time. But..I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since I was eight...” 

He looked over at his uncle who watched as you leave the arena. “I remember your friend. I remember meeting a sweet little servant girl before I left for Ba Sing Se. She invited us for her tea party, if I remember correctly. Why don’t we stop by after and say hello?" 

Zuko looks over at the arena again, just as you leave the main stage and enter a separate tent that he assumed to house all the fighters. The rest of the night was dull compared to your fight, and especially since Zuko couldn’t sit still. His thought kept going over his childhood memories, straining to remember anything he might have missed that would indicate why you were here. 

Did you defect and become an enemy of the Fire Nation? Or did you just abandon your home to live here? 

Or maybe you just...vacationing here…? Zuko shook his head, that would just be ridiculous. 

Whatever it was, he was going to find out. 

-----------------------

Tonight’s matches were finally over and you sigh with relief at the the thought of finally going home and getting some rest. Your stomach grumbles loudly and you silently hope to the Spirits that a few vendors were still open. Some meat skewers sounded amazing right now. 

As you start to unravel your wraps, you glance up just as the Scorpion enters the tent and make eye contact with you before glaring and grumbling as he walk away, embarrassed at being bested by a belt. 

As you unravel the cloth, you could already start to feel the soreness already and you already started seeing the bruises blooming over parts of your wrists and all over your knuckles. A nice warm bath would do wonders right - 

"(Yn)!" 

Just as you were finishing unraveling the last bit of cloth, you hear your name, your real name, and you stiffen. Feigning deafness you continue to haphazardly unravel the cloth, your gaze to the floor. If you don’t see him, he doesn’t see you, you amusedly thought. 

A shadow looms behind you and, with a defeated sigh, you turn with an irritated tick on your brow. It took all your willpower not to squeal when you realize how much closer Zuko actually was to you. His stare was intense, holding so much heat that your couldn't help but turn away. 

You shrugs nonchalantly and turning back to your wraps as you removed the rest before proceeding to stuff it down your small bag. “I think you got the wrong person. My name isn’t (YN).” 

“What’s your name then?” Zuko asks, quickly losing his patience. He felt anger bubbling inside him, getting hotter and hotter as each second passed. He knew you were lying. 

Zuko releases a low growl, now even more impatient and angry. His eyes narrowing dangerously as he start to feel the familiar heat in his palm igniting slightly. "Answer my question!" 

You pack the rest of your stuff away in a small bag before swinging it over your shoulders. You reply curtly, "I will if you ask me nicely." 

A defeated sigh came that didn’t come from Zuko catches your attention as you turn and look past the fuming Prince to see a familiar face. Your glare morphs into a puzzled look before a smile breaking across your face. 

"Iroh?" 

Zuko turns to his uncle, confused. He forgot you knew his uncle, it’s been so long. Zuko's eyes flits between you and his Uncle squinted at you before his eyes widen with recognition as a smile tugs at his Uncle’s mouth. 

"(Yn)! " You walk pass by Zuko, completely disregarding him and wrap your arms around the former general, who just laughs warmly and pats your back. He moves away to take a better look at you, “It’s been so long. You’ve gotten so big! And, dare I say, more beautiful than I remember?” 

You laugh, the carefree sound has Zuko’s chest tightening. 

Zuko’s rant was cut short when you lean over and flick his forehead, the impact causing a slight sting that makes Zuko hiss. "Can you stop acting like a brat? I said if you asked nicely I would give you my name. But you don't get to talk to me like that and expect something from me."

But as Iroh and you continued to catch up, Zuko’s anger bubbles over and he lets out a angry huff, crossing his arms across his chest. He was close to hitting his head on the wall out of frustration. “You know, you could just have just that was your name instead of ignoring my question. How dare you ignore -" 

“So what brings you guys to the middle of nowhere?” You move towards the tent’s exit, Iroh falling in step to your right as Zuko glared at both of your backs, both of you continuing to ignore him as if he wasn’t there. He could feel the anger stirring inside him and he took several deep breaths to calm down.

Glaring, you look back at Iroh who has an amused smile on his face. His gentle demeanor calms you a little, especially with Zuko’s temper flaring wildly. 

Begrudgingly, Zuko followed the two of you out of the tent where you and Iroh were still deep in conversation as you head walk towards the direction of the market. “We are on our way to the Misty Palms Oasis. I think I know someone there who can help us with our journey.” 

Zuko immediately quieted, Iroh never mentioned that to him before. Why did he say that now, especially in front of you?

Nodding your head, “That’s at least another day’s worth of journey. I hope you get some good food and ample rest tonight.” 

Iroh nudges your arm gently and your attention returns back to him. “Which reminds me… (YN), what are you doing in the middle of nowhere?” 

You glance behind you, your eyes meeting Zuko’s briefly and he feels his heart jump slightly and he immediately hates the feeling which only adds to his scowl.

Zuko perks up, noting the slight falter in your steps and the way your back stiffens for a brief second. He narrowed his eyes. Were you hiding something? 

Instead of directly answering Iroh, however, you pause mid-step, and turn to face them both. With a strained smile, you offer, “If you guys don’t have a place to stay for the night, my place is just down the street. It’s a bit small, but there should be enough room for all of us. I can make us some food? I’m starving..” 

Iroh smiles warmly at you before turning to address Zuko. “I’m sure we don’t mind, right nephew?” 

Before Zuko could interject and point out the obvious way you deflected his Uncle’s question, you dug into your small bag, smiling when you find what you were looking for. It’s been so long since you've seen Iroh and the last time you saw him, he taught you how to play his favorite game.

You opened your palm out to Iroh, whose brows rose with surprise. There in the middle of your palm was a small, wooden Lotus tile. “And then perhaps, after dinner, we can play some Pai Sho?” 

Iroh laughs, his hand on his belly. "Let's see if you've gotten any better since the last time we played.”

You know Pai Sho? …’Since the last time’ what did that mean?! Was Iroh hiding something from him? Zuko looks back and forth between you and Iroh, confused before throwing his hands up in frustration. 

“Hold up. I don’t see you or hear from you for over five years and we're all going to pretend that everything’s ok and that we’re all friends?! Why does it seem like you guys are hiding something from me? Nothing is making sense and both of you are just ignoring me!” Zuko’s eyes flash, his jaw clenching when he saw his uncle look at him with exasperation, eyes pleading him to calm down. 

You sharply turn to face Zuko, your eyes narrowing and, immediately, Zuko shrinks back under your gaze. “You need to keep your anger in check. You’re being utterly insufferable right now, and I can’t deal with it. Either calm down or take a walk.” 

Behind you, Iroh tries to keep his amusement down. No one had every stood up to Zuko the way you just did. Everyone else was just too afraid to make his nephew more hot angry so they usually just give in to whatever request he has, but you had met him straight on without even flinching. This should get interesting. 

Calm down?! 

Zuko growled - that was the last straw! He's had enough of being treated this way, his anger finally simmering over. How dare you treat him like that?! You have some nerve to talk down to the prince and for this, you needed to taught a lesson in showing respect. He felt the heat in his body rise as licks of flame started to come alive in his palm. 

“Agh! I’ve had enough of you!” Zuko draws his hand outward his hand, his palm open and ready to shoot a ball of fire. But right as he felt the fire ignite from the palm of his hand, you lunge forward and enclose your hand tightly over his. You felt the heat radiate from his palm, his fire mingling with yours as you cover his hand to smother it. Zuko's fire extinguishes almost immediately and instead, a cloud of smoke seeped through your clasped hands. 

You moved too fast for him to react and, as Zuko blinks back in surprise, just now realizing how close you were to him. He was close enough able trace to your features more thoroughly with his eyes and feel your warmth radiate off of you. He stares down at you, your amber eyes meeting his with the same fervor. 

Sneering, you whisper lowly, "Don't you dare use your fire on me." 

Zuko's eyes widen at your icy tone, it was enough make a shiver go down his spine. Gone were the days of the pastry-loving, flour covered girl that he used to imagine you as and instead, the image of you standing defiantly in front of him with enough boldness to go toe-to-toe against him replaced it. 

Finally realizing that you had just snuffed out his fire with your own hand, Zuko stutterers in disbelief, “Y-you're a fire bender?!" 

You roll your eyes in response, releasing his hand and ignoring the shock feeling in your fingertips as it brushes against his rough palm. You mumble a reply, avoiding his stare. “Yes. I learned that I could fire bend when I was ten." 

Picking up your bag from the ground, you brush off some of the excess sand and swung the bag around your shoulders. As you walk pass Iroh, who was smiling innocently as if nothing had just happened, you glance over your shoulder and meet Zuko’s heated gaze. “You coming or what? You can sleep with the desert critters for all I care.” 

Iroh’s smile wavers slightly when he sees Zuko’s scowl. Iroh places arms across his stomach and with an incline of his head, he calls his nephew over. “Come on Zuko.” 

Zuko releases a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding, a low headache starting to bloom around his temples. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he takes several deep breaths of air and recounts the last few minutes. Your fire bending surprised him, but now he understands that some of your boldness might have come from the fact you were able to learn fire bending. After all, he was taught that anger and passion was the source of energy for fire bending. 

As he watches you converse with his uncle with such ease, Zuko realizes he has more questions now than he started with, and they need to be answered. 

@cirtruss

[onf-headcanons]

ONF MEMBERS AS YOUR SIBLING (U & Laun version)

Either you are related from Yuto or Minseok side and either one of them later joined the family. Confusing? OK example you are Yuto's sibling by blood and then later Minseok joined. Or in reversed, Yuto joined later.

Or You are the youngest sibling (could be in terms age when the family comes together or you being born later)

Or, You are the eldest.

Any scenario that is suitable to your own imagination. Also there will be some repeated ideas fron first universe because i would like to keep characterization consistency.

Btw this pair of sibling would be one of the less noisy siblings of all.

My recommendation, your birthday is in older than both of them. But you can totally imagine that your are younger ones. I will try to elaborate both, I hope i won't confuse you guys🙈

Also i recommend, if you are going to imagine yourself as eldest, you are 2 to 3 years older. While if you are the youngest, you would be 5 to 7 years younger.

Scenario 1

If you are related with Yuto and Minseok is the new join

You Defo speaking Japanese comfortably

Your parent moved the family to Korea (or minseok family moved to Japan is doable too).You and Yuto attending school at Korea so you two speak somewhat decent Korean.

And your parent met with Minseok parent then they decided to tie the knot.

Your parents decided to have a dinner before wedding so that you kids can know each other before hand

Btw it would be a lie if you did not once considered Minseok is cute (non romantic way)

Maybe Minseok is not studying in the same school as yours/Yuto's. But it is doable too if he is. Even being classmate with Yuto

(It will a callback to onf meme if your side of family is maternal side so your parent took in Minseok family name. And then Mizuguchi Yuto also known as Kim Yuto lol)

Minseok already excited to have Yuto (a Japanese) as sibling, even more excited to have you too. Especially if you are the elder sister/sibling

Minseok explaining to Yuto about meme or idioms or weird metaphors seen in TV

You found out Minseok sneakily munching ice cream in the fridge in early morning to wake himself up (which is a weird way in your common sense) and then understood he cannot handle coffee. If you are an employed sibling, you might offer to drive him to school/University and let him sleep in your car while you are driving. (this is if both Yuto and Minseok attended different schools/University)

Minseok has many questions, asking about both of your experience in korea, asking about Japanese cultures, and even asking you both for help on Japanese

Minseok taking Japanese classes online and dedicated to one day properly converse in Japanese with you and Yuto

Learning some Osaka dialect from Yuto and you. And maybe both of you talks in the dialect so much that it affects Minseok's beginner Japanese. Cues in Minseok once flustered when his online instructor asked why his intonation sounds mixed with osaka accent.

Of course you both will chill him a bit mentioning is fine because you both are OK with korean too. But Minseok looks up to the effort of both of you learning a foreign language, hence he continues with learning Japanese until he is somewhat fluent.

As Yuto's sibling, you know your brother is the quiet side when he is trying to adjust. Bonus if you are a sister and you hope the boys could bond, you might help out by leaking some information of Yuto's preference to Minseok. Example like Xmas gift or birthday gift

Once they opened up, your job is done 👌. Maybe you move out and then once in a while return home and seeing them two playing games together or even inmersed in dance cover/tutorial videos

If have the same characteristic of laughter as Yuto, Minseok's usual ☺😊 is very unusual to you

Maybe you might ask "Minseok ah how can stay calm and smiling like usual when we are already dying of laughter?"

Minseok just scratches his head and replies you with his innocent eyes, "I was laughing and nearly losing my breath though?"

Them two defo bond with dancing and songs they like. But mostly dancing. Could be something one of your parents brought it up during the dinner and both Minseok and Yuto's eyes glimmers for a short while as if they found comrade lol

By the way of you happened to be the younger sibling of Yuto in this scenario, Minseok being a new elder brother is just the best thing of all. He will share food or stuff with you the most. I do feel he will do that more if you are a sister. Not sure because he is the new joined, he is trying hard very much to be attentive to everyone. Or, he just does not want you to feel left out as now there is 2 boys in house and you did not have a sister to bond with

When you have problems, both Yuto and Minseok will listen to you attentively. Depends on what problem was it you will go to different person to consult with. Yuto is your sibling and he knew you long and well enough, so if you want a more unbiased view you would go to Minseok.

Yes Minseok smiles alot but when he is concentrating into something important (also means listening to your concerns), his expression goes into a serious mode and you never knew he had that.

Also it will be a nice contrast if you are the fearless one and the boys are the scaredy cat. I will elaborate at Scenario 2

Scenario 2

If you are related with Minseok and Yuto is the new joined (by the way if not sibling, Yuto honestly as exchange student is also definitely doable for this one. I wont be separately writing about this soon I will mesh this into sibling au.)

Even thought alot similar with scenario 1, I will try to add more variety

Both are excited to meet Yuto

prior to your parents wedding, they decided to have a dinner hope you kids can know each other before hand

You and your brother noticed the new soon to be sibling is quite quiet in personality.

He smiles alot

One of the parent brought up dancing and mentioned it, you definitely saw them two looking very much brighten up and cannot wait to talk to each other to find out more.

You 3 exchanged numbers but mostly is just Yuto and Minseok texting each other more. And you are happy that your brother get to know someone with similar preferences

Maybe in this scenario its only Minseok who is dedicated to learn Japanese.

Probably you 3 bond by playing games, Mario kart maybe? And that is the first time Yuto showed himself. Loud laughs, loud wails when your car accidentally bumped on his.

Only then he starts getting more comfortable with his new siblings

Yuto's laugh is contagious.

Sometimes in charge for dinner and he cooks japanese style

Also you might see Yuto tapping on Minseok with music on just to teach him about the beat in the music when they are discussing on choreography. And your brother just sits there receiving all the tappings (this happens in other scenarios too but its more significant here)

Learning some Osaka dialect from Yuto. And maybe Yuto talks in the dialect so much that it affects Minseok's beginner Japanese. Cues in Minseok once flustered when his online instructor asked why his intonation sounds mixed with osaka accent.

Nope, its a bad idea to bring them to haunted house. Not even roller coaster. Maybe there is once your parents brought you 3 to Japan for vacation and you all stop by at Fuiikyu Highland (a theme park in japan) that day and both of your brothers regret their life choices for placing Fujikyu first and Universal studio for the next day.

One of them maybe "WHY CAN'T WE JUST GO TO UNIVERSAL STUDIO AT OSAKA INSTEAD?!!!!!"

Another one nearly crying " WHY CAN'T WE SKIP TODAY AND FAST FORWARD TO TOMORROW INSTEAD?!!!!"

Scenario 3

If you are the child that born later from your parents marriage

This timeline, Minseok and Yuto has gotten more comfortable with each other mother tongue but still learning

They are best buds right now

They value you a lot. Leo is very attentive and showering you with straightforward love and Pisces is a bit of tsundere but a lot of small gestures showing his affection towards younger sibling

I think both brothers will cradle you when you are still a baby. Of course involving some panicking when they first time trying to hold you. Minseok loves to gently rub his cheek on yours, he cannot help it lol(yes like how SoonYoung/Hoshi from Svt). And Yuto always love to caress your head

Overall they are very protective. In a bit different ways. Minseok would be the attentive protective type, while Yuto be like "Run along my young one, but remember big brother is here."

I dunno why but I do see you converse with Yuto in Japanese and Minseok in korean

Sometimes being the middle person to teach/help them with the unfamiliar language. You grow with 2 languages that is why in comparison, you might be the most fluent person handling and juggling 2 languages in the household

Scene like Minseok trying to express himself in japanese with Yuto and he kinda stuck with the word and your second brother turn to you asking you whats that is korean and you just nonchalantly tell Yuto what Minseok has been trying to convey

Purposely integrate this here. You 3 are very interested in dancing. Guess its in the blood if you sort out the equation. I also think that you used to watch them dancing very much and it got into your trait/character

Maybe your memory is not the precise type so they coach you alot regarding to sequence. No worries when it comes to the strength and timing when comes to dance moves, you are their sibling after all.

Uploads dance covers of you 3 to YouTube

Either you are not the scaredy among the sibling or maybe you are also the scaredy cat lol

If you are not scaredy cat, they might look at you with amaze when you dared to watch horror movie, ALONE.

I dun think you would be the evil prankster sibling in the household. You might lean on the omg why can't they understand the beauty of horror

People definitely are going to "cannot believe their ears" when they hear you 3 conversing in both Korean and Japanese, switching the language back and forth

A/N: is was longer than i expected? I got info from kprofiles that they are both isfj. Which makes actually them are the quiet ones compare to other hyungs. Hope its not too boring for your preference. Anyways see you soon!

[shibalen]

hi !! can i get a romantic haikyuu matchup with ♫︎ + 𑁍 please? she/her pronouns, i'm pan, infp, with a libra sun+moon ! i'm introverted, very chill and free spirited, also very patient, to the point that i'm sometimes a doormat :/ i'm in touch with my emotions, i'm usually quiet but can get really talkative when excited. i get in my own head a lot and have a hard time asking for help. cursed memes and playful banter are my cups of tea, and i'm not easily flustered (but that's probs partly bc i'm kinda dense oof). 🃏 [1/3]

i do competitive debate and it's kind of my sport! i'm a theatre kid too, i absolutely love performing! i'm bilingual and learning french, i love classic books, philosophy, and cats. i'm a pop culture nerd! i speak very animatedly. sharing songs is a love language for me. i think i'm very supportive towards my friends, i don't always give advice but i always try to be there for them as much as i can (even if i nag them sometimes).🃏 [2/3]

i love writing analyses on media i like! i'm especially into stuff that has lots of themes and focus on character psyche, i like picking them apart. i also like fashion and playing uke! i don't have an ideal type for an s/o, all i ask is they understand when i'm super busy and need to be alone to recharge, but also know when to call me out when i'm trying to burn myself out lol. i like spontaneous, spur of the moment dates! this got long hshs but thank you sm and hope you have a great day !! 🃏 [3/3]

♡ matchup for anon

haikyuu: i match you with . . .

tetsurō kuroo !!

• i'm convinced you'd go great with Kuroo, and that you're exactly his type! relaxed and quiet yet fun, you'd catch his attention quickly.

• he adores your analytical, nerdy side but also your funny and free-spirited personality. definetly the type to playfully make fun of you for those traits to express his affection tho (until you point out he's just as much of a geek himself)

• being Kenma's friend, he has no problem getting you out of your head and laying out the facts. he'll help you focus on smaller goals to keep you from burning out. taking breaks is obligatory and if he's not there himself you guys will have video chats to take your mind off work. his dedication knows no bounds, trust me.

• boy is super vigilant about your health but not in an annoying naggy way. he sends you reminers to drink water and have a meal because he doesn't want his dearest person hurting herself (｡╯︵╰｡)

• you guys met at a debate competition. Kuroo didn't really want to be there but he was recruited by his peers to fill in for another person from the debate club who couldn't make it. he's always this kind, right?

• funny thing is that you never had an "official" debate but instead one in the corridor of the building the competition was held in. you were trying desperately to get a drink stuck in the vending machine when Kuroo came to your rescue.

• he taught you a useful hack how to get those things free but also teased you about not asking for help sooner you know he had to

• you ended up arguing over whether or not it was okay to ask strangers for help. it was dumb and far from any structured debate, but it was fun! Kuroo really had a bast seeing you switch from your polite ways to excitable chatter during your conversation and knew immediately he liked you.

• so, you exchanged numbers and social media before parting ways. getting together as an official couple no doubt took a while but that only resulted in a relationship that was all the more sound and comfortable for the both of you (*´▽`*)

• if anyone plans to take advantage of your politeness, Kuroo will just stare at them over your shoulder with that smile of his. i assure you no one is going to take advantage of you on his watch! "hmm? what was that you were about to say? let us hear it."

• you playfully tease each other on daily basis, light-hearted banter and snarky remarks, but by god when he tries to be the slightest bit more romantic you completely miss the point. rip Kuroo he's taken it as a challenge to make you flustered and will stop at nothing.

• you guys would have so much fun debating over everything from philosophy to ridiculous opinions such as whether cheese goes before or after the ham on a sandwich.

• gets all smug when you start being more talkative with him because you're showing a special side to yourself, hehe.

• has the s o f t e s t smile on his face when he listens to you talk !! like, resting his chin on his palm and leaning in, hanging on your each and every word while thinking how precious you are ♡︎

• can't forget about all the cursed memes you send each other in the middle of the night! not mention how you have entire conversations in them??

• it's completely all right if you don't have advice to give. when Kuroo's feeling down you being there is all be needs ♡︎ your presence alone is enough to remind him everything is going to be okay.

• !! sharing earbuds during bus, car and train rides !! change my mind. he especially likes it if you rest your head on his shoulder all the while, it makes him feel happy that you trust him so much. plus the fluffy intimacy.

• once he tried doing the same to you but he's kinda heavy so eventually you had to tell him to lift it. but in exchange, you let him lay his head on your lap. he actually prefers it that way now.

• such an overly dramatic couple honestly. if one of you starts acting dramatic, the other will jump the bandwagon no questions asked. yeah . . . your friends don't third-wheel on your dates much . . .

• your dates include shopping for fashion (imagine trying to style his hair to fit with the rest of his outfit but the last second it just goes poof), aimless "we'll figure out a date on the way there" drives, trying out funky science experiments from youtube, donating blood, pillow fort parties and childhood movie nights ♡︎

♫︎ music box

— Yellow by Coldplay

— Nicholas Sparks by Kinda Collective

— Sweet Talk by Saint Motel

— Backyard Boy by Claire Rosinkranz

— Dance, baby! by Pablo

𑁍 jewellery box

— favourite memory with you

afrer a big volleyball game victory Kuroo had decided to cofess to you. it was the perfect opportunity, he was feeling the most confident and ready. so, after the celebration with his teammates he invited you over to his place where you'd get some peace and quiet. however, before he got to say what he'd been agonising over for months now, you asked to play a song for him. you had written it yourself, especially for him, for this victory and your own confession! boy was absolutely shooketh but all the more smitten. he almost cried you were so perfect shh it was you both laughed as he said his confession right after ♡︎

— favourite activity to do together

i said it before and i'm gonna say it again: Kuroo loves playfully bantering with you. your wit never ceases to surprise him but it also gives him an excuse to throw an arm around your shoulder and get even closer to you ♡︎ as for actual activities i wanna say simply hanging out with you is more than enough for Kuroo because it's then when you're the most relaxed. it also leaves room for more spontaneous dates, your adventures are always new and exciting!

— favourite place to kiss you

Kuroo is a tease and will kiss you anywhere but the lips (or any other place you want him to). he loves giving you kisses but in most situations you might think he lives to see your pout or glare as he takes his time. in the end though, his kisses are the sweetest, meant only for you. in conclusion, i think his preferences very much shift according to yours.

— favourite nicknames to call you by

okay i know 'kitten' is very popular in the fandom, and i think since you like cats he enjoys calling you by it. but the nicknames he likes calling you by the most are usually in foreign languages, like 'chica' 'ma cherie' etc. if you like nicknames then do i have good news for you because cheesy ones as 'hunny bun' and 'boo' are also on his list!

— favourite thing about you

your sense of humour, among other things, is something Kuroo finds endearing about you! it's very similar to his own so he thinks of it as something that connects the two of you. also, the fact that you're in touch with your emotions is precious in his eyes. it's not common these days so you're a special treasure to him ♡︎

♡︎ runner up: Rintaro Suna

hihi! here i am doing requests hahahahaa . . . right. no excuses. i am terribly sorry for the wait so i'm trying to improve the quality of these in an attempt to make-up for the mega long wait. i sincerely hope you see and loke this!! stay safe and remember to be kind to yourself ♡︎

[nortromthesilencer]

Bits and Pieces (Compiled)

A compiled RP between @rizzrack​ and Myself

Nortromthesilencer

“What’sa runt like you doing out here alone, anyways?”

This was bad. This was beyond bad. Nortrom backed away some more, the heels of his feet hitting a large root, tree directly behind him inhibiting any further attempts to retreat. Was this really The Silencer? Not in any recognizable sense by those that knew him now: He was much shorter, much leaner, much younger. The once middle aged man was not seen in this child, meekly cowering from the trio of bandits closing in. Used to harassment from his peers and preceptors, Nortrom normally met them with submission and acceptance. Now, he wasn’t sure how to act. He was lost in more ways than one.

“Doubt the kid’s got anything on ‘im. Might be able to ransom ‘im to the town though,” A toothy sneer dragged across the lopsided face of one of the bandits, knife slowly unsheathing. Nortrom’s pale blue eyes locked on the blade, scared, anticipating. Again he tried to back away, pressing his shoulders firm against the rough bark. With no weapon or sense of where he was, the child knew he was facing greatly skewed odds.

“Leave me alone, please.” The timid request was quiet, near begging, and the least threatening thing in the world. It brought about a great laugh from the men, a sound that caused the boy to flinch.

“Ya hear that? Th’ runt said please! Oh boy, now we hav’ to leave ‘im alone!” Their mocking jeers forced Nortrom to droop even more, his situation getting more hopeless by the second.  What did he do to wind up here? Why were these men doing this? The outside world was foreign, and even more so the lawless corruption of thieves.

Rizzrack

Elusive and unpredictable, the Timbersaw still has the uncanny ability to show up in places no one wants him to be, so long as there is a single tree around.

Just a single tree off a dirt road that connects two small towns together. It caught his attention from a distance, like a single thread poking from the seam of a military uniform. Upon approach however the small-keen takes notice of the group. It’s immediate to him that the situation is a bad one. Very likely a dispute between two parties. Normally he wouldn’t intervene… most adults can take care of themselves you know! However, this victim was obviously a child, and Rizzrack would not let that slide by.

If the little gathering wasn’t so absorbed within their matters, then perhaps they may have seen the waddling saw suit approaching in the distance. If they did not, then for sure they would have noticed the metal claw that suddenly smashed into the trunk dangerously close to the child. In mere moments the suit pulls itself over, bumping roughly into the tree and partially uprooting it.

“Oh, pardon me!” The clawed hand nudges the child away from the tree and behind the suit before lifting up and punching the woody giant completely to the ground. He takes a quick glance at the bandits, and the partially unsheathed knife is enough to confirm his assumptions. “I was passing by and couldn’t help but notice your entertainingdisplay of blades!” The Small-Keen leans forward in his seat, eyes squinting at the weapons the bandits hold. “Is that your mother’s silverware? Cute.” He chuckles as he falls back into his seat. The suit brings the saw-arm forward, holding the buzzing limb between them. “Now what do you think of mine?”

Nortromthesilencer

When claw met trunk, the child screamed. Reflexively diving away, beige tunic smearing with dirt as he went to ground, Nortrom watched in wide eyed horror while the massive machine lurched to a stop before them. Mouth agape, he slowly scrambled back, still on his butt.

The bandits were not so lucky in making any meaningful distance, instead stuck face to face (or face to saw) with the timbersuit. One looked at the kid, still dragging himself even further away and much too shocked to stand just yet, then back to the saw, then his knife, then the saw again, and threw his hands up with a shout. “Fuck this, not worth it!” At those words, the trio were quick to run, not wanting to risk their lives over this.

Realizing now that one of the threats had retreated, Nortrom scrambled to his feet. Not taking his eyes from the timbersuit, he stepped back ever so slowly, thinking that if he went slow it wouldn’t notice him. With how little else there was around them, he knew this was doubtful but tried anyways.

Rizzrack

The small-keen can’t help himself but to let out a little “ha-hah!” at the sight of the fleeing bandits. “Those three made the right choice! I really wasn’t looking forward to spending a day cleaning a red mess off my blades. Now then…” He glances behind him at the child slowly backing away, his expression becomes stern.

“Oooh no no no I need to have a word with you, little one!” Rizzrack hops down from the cockpit and approaches Nortrom, finger pointed disapprovingly. “Don’t you know it isdangerous out here nowadays?” He stands before him, looking up with hands on cocked hip and tsks away. “Lucky thing I was around. Who knows what could have happened to you? They could have seriously hurt you!” he exclaims, waving his hand towards the direction the bandits fled. “Or that!” He includes the uprooted tree. “Your parents must be worried sick! Unless… they sent you out on an errand all alone. Then I’ll have a word with them too!”

Nortromthesilencer

Once out of the suit, this odd fellow wasn’t anywhere near as intimidating. Nortrom recognized the race, a small keen, from his many studies yet never imagined they really were as short as he read. Hell, the child was only 10 and still stood taller than this one!

He stopped backing up now, one arm rubbing his other anxiously. Still speaking softly, the boy maintained eye contact out of habit. “S-sorry sir. I know it’s dangerous but I don’t know where I am… or how I got here even…”

Clasping the fidgeting hand into a fist, he thought, expression shifting as he did so every few seconds, wracking his brain as to just how he got here. “M-Maybe it was an error in the teleportation spell…?” Nortrom sunk into his own hands, holding his head and groaning loudly, “I’m going to be in so much trouble for this…”

Rizzrack

Firm face turns to a softer expression, one of sympathy for the poor boy. Don’t stress him any more than he needs to be, after all he did just get out of a frightening ordeal.

“Oh, perhaps! B-but don’t think about that right now. Let’s just get you back home, how’s about that? Sound good? Good!” He turns back around and climbs his way back into his suit, continuing to talk to the child. “So you may not know where you are, but if you know where you need to go, we can work from there. Teleportation is tricky business, you won’t catch me messing with that sort of thing often. Oh!” Once seated, he brings the suit over to the boy and leans out over the cockpit extending his gloved hand. “I’m Rizzrack by the way, also known as Timbersaw by those that get on my bad side. Hehe, but you won’t have to worry about that! Now what’s your name kiddo?”

Nortromthesilencer

The cultural concept of a hand shake is lost on the child, who just stares with confusion at the yellow glove as it’s presented. Instead, the boy bows his shoulders slightly, and keeps his eyes down while speaking, “Greetings, sir. I- I have been instructed not to tell outsiders my name. I do thank you for the help, however.” While Nortrom didn’t completely know why this was a rule, he assumed it was for safety or the sort. The reality was quite close, his order wishing to keep him secret and safe from any who would disrupt their prophesied plan.

Lifting his posture once more and cautiously taking a look over at the suit before him, blades and all, the boy absentmindedly tried to answer Rizzrack’s other question. “I’m from the Hazhadal Barrens, by their northern mountains.” Metal, wood, and other strange materials; He had never seen such a contraption before and was fascinated by it. All but ignoring the keen, Nortrom was in awe as he looked over every joint and limb.

Rizzrack

The little bow is odd. It’s polite, but odd, something that Rizzrack has never seen to come from a child. The small-keen nods understandingly. “That’s smart! I get it, you can’t trust everyone.”

He leans back into his suit, thinking on the response. Hazhadal Barrens? That sounds oddly familiar. Where did he hear that from? Hmm, barrens… maybe someplace he himself wandered to for some momentary solace from the trees. Rizzrack looks back to the child, taking notice of how captivated he is of the suit. He has every right to be! Not many who live in a world where magic is the norm can appreciate the true wonder that is technology. It fills him with a sense of pride, and dangerously enough, an urge to show off his creation and perhaps even influence a young mind.

“Pretty amaaaazing, right? Hmhm, I know.” Rizzrack pats the dashboard lovingly. “The one-of-a-kind Timbersaw. Top of the line monster to lumber converter! It slices, it dices, it chops up your nightmares into itty bitty pieces so  you’ll never have to worry about them again. And-” He continues. “It can be your best friend.” Shoving a few levers, Rizzrack brings the suit down into a squat, enabling Nortrom to get a much better look at the controls within. “You may behold my amazing invention, but don’t stare for too long or-.” Rizzrack’s jesting is interrupted as the suit suddenly begins to shudder. The smoke from the exhaust sputters until it all falls silent. “Oh, no no! Dangit! Not again…”

Nortromthesilencer

Jumping back as the suit staggers and creaks into a crouch, Nortrom can’t help but grin a bit while Rizzrack goes on his rant about the wonders of the suit. He circles it, not touching, ogling every gear, every lever, every system and weld. Knowing very little about such mechanics as it wasn’t a topic of study in any of his courses, the boy can’t help but be enraptured by this new sight. Curiosity eventually gets the better of him and Nortrom carefully runs a finger across one of the welded seems. The suit sputtered and twitched as if in protest, and again the boy jumped back.

“I…” Did he break it? A dawning look of horror replaces the short lived grin, hands pulling back to his side immediately, and a few very slow steps in retreat his first instinctive reaction. Nortrom store wide eyed up at the suit’s angered pilot and cringes, recoiling into his own posture, “I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to break it…”

Rizzrack

Completely distracted by his suit, Rizzrack fails to see the boy’s growing stress.

“I can’t believe it!” Hands fling into the air and he groans out his frustrations to the world. “You just have to go and break, don’t you?? Disappointing, ABSOLUTELY disappointing!” Rizzrack moans. It’s only then that he hears a quivering voice and turns his scowling face towards the child. “What? Break it?” He stares down at the shrinking, fear-stricken child. “Ah no, trust me, even if you wanted to break it you wouldn’t… er…” His words did nothing to comfort the boy. Confusion replaces anger, and Rizzrack can only  stand there and rub the back of his neck awkwardly. Geesh, the kid sounds like an orphaned apprentice, and Rizzrack wouldn’t at all be surprised if he was adopted by some nasty keen-folk from that town near The Jungle. “I-it’s okay! It happens! Sometimes things go wrong but they go wrong for a reason. Sometimes that reason is your normal wear and tear, other reasons is to just make me miserable. Why don’t we just take a look, hmm? Nooo reason to be scared.” Turning towards his suit, Rizzrack begins his very unorganized method of trouble shooting. A few minutes are spent opening compartments, tracing wires, tapping gauges until finally he finds a possible cause.

“Ah-hah! There’s the problem!” His tone of optimism is quickly dulled by annoyance. “The fuel line leaked… No matter! I always keep a little extra on me in case of emergencies, such as when the hose clamp doesn’t want to do its one job. Just give me a second.” Fishing around in the cockpit, the small-keen pulls out a bottle large enough to require to of his hands to properly hold and pulls off the cap to sniff the contents. “Nope.” He places it back and grabs another identical bottle and repeats the process. “Oh yeah, that’s it.” He places the bottle of clear liquid upon the control panel of the suit. “That my boy, is fuel, and it’s what makes this big brat run.” Rizzrack turns his attention back to the hoses of the suit as he attempts to make corrections. Every few seconds there’s an annoyed mutter and a bump, and with every bump, the bottle slowly nudges closer and closer to the edge of the slightly tilted cockpit…

Nortromthesilencer

The child let out a deep sigh of relief, breath being held as he waited to be berated. It was reassuring knowing he wasn’t the cause of the malfunction, and although still on edge, worked up the courage to peer over Rizzrack’s shoulder at the work he was doing. So lost was he in the hoses, gaskets, valves, and makeshift repairs that Nortrom paid little attention to what was beside them, that small bottle inching ever so closer to the edge of the timber-suit.

“This looks really complex,” he noted, head tilting in confusion at the machines innards. Not wanting to get in the way of Rizzrack’s light, when the keen moved so too did the child, right into the bottle. An echoing crash of broken glass against stone forced his attention away, the look of horror dawning on his face once again.

This time, he knew he was the cause.

He lept back, crowding the broken bottle, kneeling down to start frantically picking up the glass shards with his bare hands. “No, no no… I didn’t mean… I’ll, I’ll clean this up. I’ll…” Nortrom knew he couldn’t replace the bottle contents, and that scared him most of all. Not only did he break the glass, he ruined whatever was inside. Nearly hyperventilating in panic, he untucked his tunic and held it forward, placing the shards in like a makeshift basket, shaking, and not watching out for the sharp edges that occasionally grazed his skin.

Rizzrack

“It looks complex, but once you  become familiar with what’s what, it’s really quite easy to understand an-”

The breaking of glass causes him to flinch and let out a squeak of fright. He whips around and leans over the Timbersuit to stare in dismay at the broken pieces, watching the diesel flow across the ground and dissipate. Brows furrow and with gritted teeth he turns his attention to the boy. “Why would yo-..!” The boy’s frantic attempt to clean the shards and utter disregard of the glass cutting his skin stops Rizzrack from reprimanding the boy. Is this kid alright!? Once again confusion and worry grips the Keen. “D-don’t… stop picking those up you’ll get seriously hurt!” Hands pat the air as he tries to calm the boy. Seeing as he won’t let up, Rizzrack grabs the other bottle of water in his arms and carefully leaps down from the suit.

Placing the bottle down beside him, he firmly grips the child’s wrists. “Stop! Stop! Look!” he turns the palms skyward, shaking glass shards from them and wincing at the sight of the red nicks. “No need to save the pieces. We can’t put it back together. Ugh. Keep your hands there.” Retrieving the bottle of water, he removes the seal and positions the neck over the boys hands and slowly begins to pour the contents. “You can’t just handle broken glass or chemicals without proper protection. You need to wear gloves. Like I do.” Placing the bottle back down beside him. the small-keen takes a knee in front of the boy in an attempt to seem less intimidating in hopes the boy would calm down. He begins to inspect the young hands for any small slivers that may have embedded themselves within the skin. By the looks of it, nothing very serious.

“I appreciate you trying to be responsible, but I don’t want you to get hurt.” He sighs, quite annoyed at the loss of fuel, but it doesn’t mean the end of the world for them. Yet.

Nortromthesilencer

As Rizzrack raised his arms, the child coward, glass shards falling from his tunic as it bent back, arms attempting to protect himself from an expected beating. When they grabbed his wrists he bowed his head, still cringing, waiting, expecting pain at any moment…

None came.

Opening one eye and sheepishly peeking out from his cowering form, the child watched as Rizzrack worked to clean his hands instead of pull at them. But why? It was his fault the bottle fell, it was his fault it broke, and it was his duty to accept punishment for his errors.

As the seconds passed, Nortrom found himself breathing less erratically and forcing himself to stand more straight. He still held the look of a scared animal, but there was even more confusion turning his brows.

“I– I’m sorry. It’s my fault, I ruined your repairs.” Some part of him expected the Keen to no longer wish to help him for being such a useless kid.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack places Nortrom’s hands down. He takes a moment to observe the child, to ensure he’s calmed down. Just about every reaction from the boy confuses the small-keen, bringing to mind worrisome thoughts for the child’s well-being and questionable upbringing.

“It’s fine. It was an accident, and what every good inventor knows, accidents can lead to discovery. Thus, I have discovered I shouldn’t leave fragile glass bottles on the edge of the timbersuit. I think that’s a good lesson.”

He stands back up and closes his remaining bottle of water. He turns his attention back to the suit, glancing over it in thought. Hmm. Until he can get more fuel, he’ll just have to operate it through ‘keen-power’. The sawblades won’t operate and the suit will be completely ineffective at cutting, but it’s still a much better alternative to the other possibly dangerous option. An option he shouldn’t have to take for as long as there’s no immediate danger, everything should be fine.

“Welp.” Rizzrack climbs his way back into the suit, placing the bottle away and beginning to convert the suit from fuel-power to muscle-power. “No point in wasting more time sitting around. We’ll take a trip to the town east of here and get some more fuel, then from there we’ll ask for directions to the barrens. Don’t worry kiddo we’ll get you home.” After some quick reassuring the small-keen begins to ride the Timbersuit towards the desired direction with much more force and effort required to push and pull the levers. It occurs only now  occurs to Rizzrack the child may not want to follow a stranger to some other place, but he hopes the boy won’t decline. It’s unsafe out here, and despite there not being much vegetation, with the suit in a vulnerable state, anything could mean death.

Nortromthesilencer

Despite the lessons learned, Nortrom didn’t feel at all convinced that this wasn’t his fault and he wasn’t deserving of punishment for being so careless. Still, the child wasn’t going to push the matter, happy to for once not be berated. What didn’t cross his mind, however, was not following: it would be a hell of a lot safer with this keen than out alone in the middle of an unknown land.

“Yes sir.” Obediently he followed the suit, walking with his hands held at his sides and posture straight. Operating the suit manually looked labour intensive, and while the child wanted to ask if he could help, he also didn’t wish to cause any more problems.

He took this time as they walked to silently look more at their saroundings, and even curiously ponder what the town would be like. Where he came from, most hubs were built around oasis or well points, and he was always instructed not to speak to anyone or leave the group. Never had Nortrom had a chance to freely explore, instead letting his imagination run wild as to how many things might be hidden where no one dare look.

The child was lost in his own thoughts, so very quiet, walking in file.

Rizzrack

He’s following. Good. Good. It settles well with Rizzrack, bringing about a good feeling. He trusts you! But can’t let him down, might be the only one he can depend on out here as well. Which reminds him…

“How did you end up in this place anyways? hmph. Did you get kidnapped? huff.” It’s only been a few minutes and he’s already working up a sweat. “Wouldn’t surprise me. hff. There’s all sorts of whewfelids around here. They’re happy to help strangers, but hmff the moment their eye catches any huff any sign of vulnerability, you’re nothing but prey to them. huff huff. So stick close to me.”

The landscape is flat and dry with little vegetation dotted about. It’s a perfect place for Timbersaw to travel through and wind down from territories infested with trees. It’s also perfect for the inhabitants who love to disappear into the dust when they desire to lose a chaser off their tails.

They couldn’t get to the town soon enough. One can be easily fooled to believe it to be a ghost town. The style of buildings and height of doorways hint that humans lived here before at some point. Perhaps it was some trading hub, seeing as how it resides on a road that connects two seperate, larger towns. Due to the other town being destroyed by powers of nature, it left this road unused and the little town soon abandoned. At least by the humans.

Shadows move glide silently within the buildings like ghosts. Its unsettling and one would think the dendrophobic keen would be frightened, but he is not. Instead, he continues through, passing by a very large structure resembling a bucket with a cone on top.

“That is a water tower. It has no water in it. Speaking of.” He stops the suit in front of a creaky shop with a wooden sign reading “supply”. He grabs the bottle from earlier that is only now filled halfway with water and hands it to the boy. “Drink. It’s easy to die out here.”

Rizzrack hops down from his suit and takes a moment to rub his tired arms before heading up the uneven wooden steps to approach a dark open window. “Madini?”

Emerald eyes appear from the darkness within like orbs of magic in the night.

“Se ‘ami newi, keen. The mechanism thirsts for more? Hmhmm.” The voice is soft and feminine, yet raspy. Already familiar with this particular customer, the sound of her retrieving a can of fuel and placing it upon a table is heard within. As she awaits a container to fill, her eyes glance behind Rizzrack and catch sight of the boy. “Ah, t’enika, a strong young boy. You belong to the keen? Give me the bottle.” From the dark a black furred paw emerges. Pad facing up, the claws open and close, beckoning the boy to come near.

Nortromthesilencer

Watching the Keen struggle wasn’t something Nortrom wanted, but still he feared helping would instead make things worse. Instead, the child quietly answered his questions to the best of his abilities, “I’m not sure how I got here. I woke up in the middle of the road, and I hurt all over. Maybe one of the teleport spells we use at the cantonment messed up?” He shrugged, just as confused as anyone else would be.

With a gracious bow the child took the jar, a small ‘thank you’ chirping from his lips before he took a sip. The rest he saved, holding on to the bottle very firmly, not wanting a repeat of the last accident.

There was something oddly familiar about the town, a sort of Barren-esque feeling that put Nortrom at a bit more ease than he was before. The cities and towns there would come and go like the wind, their lively-hood based on weather conditions and water, and shifting just like the dust that inhabited them. Even the shop keeper was familiar, a feline like race he had seen before in the Barrens. Nortrom recalled a small fact that their large ears helped thermo-regulate their bodies,and survive the harsh conditions where other races would overheat…

He snapped out of his trance like state when spoken to, looking down at the bottle in his hands. Tilting his head towards Rizzrack, the boy cautiously stepped forward and placed it in her paw. If Rizzrack was trusting of this figure, surely he could be as well? Well, maybe not trusting, that was the wrong word, but at least accepting that she didn’t mean them harm for the time being. They did seem to know one another.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack crosses his arms and sighs, head bowed as his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Ugh, you could say that. The fuel hose came loose and I don’t have enough diesel to clear the lines. Do you know how troublesome it is to fix that? Very troublesome! Sometimes I have to ask myself why I don’t just…” The small-keen continues on rambling to a feline who couldn’t look any more disinterested.

Madini grabs the bottle with both hands and pulls it in through the window. Noticing that there is still some water within the vessel, she takes a moment to lap up some of it before dumping the last remaining bit out the window in a wasteful manner. Such is the way of felines. With some patting of the bottle to empty it as much as possible, she sets it down to fill it to the rim with fuel from the can.

“… I mean I could always take a more economical route and attach a-” Rizzrack is interrupted from his vocal thoughts by the sound of a claw tapping glass. Seeing it, he grabs it all while continuing his yammering and goes back to tend to his suit. Finding the keen to be distracted, the feline leans ever so slightly towards the window. The light of outside just barely reaches in to show her previously hidden features. Unlike the fur on her arms, the fur of her face is much shorter and freely shows her wrinkles. It’s possible she may well be along in her time. She beckons Nortrom closer, expressing her desire to speak to him.

“We’ati, how are you stuck with this keen?” She waves a paw towards the direction of Rizzrack who is much too occupied trying to restart the Timbersuit to notice the the talking going on behind his back. “Do you know what one means when they say someone is not all there? He is crazy.” She hisses softly. “Talking, talking, talking about trees. Everything trees. He say he will cut them all. What trees do you see out here?  Monyi…” She shakes her head in disbelief. “I do not think those teeth only cut through wood.”

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom finds himself looking back and forth between the pair, Rizzrack lost in his suit and Madini gracefully getting the fuel situation sorted out. He was used to just silently standing to the side, a backdrop, as others spoke and did their thing. When gestured to approach the feline closer, he felt it fine to do so as Rizzrack was occupied with the suit.

“Er…” Hesitant to cast any judgement, the boy side eyes Rizzrack as she spoke, the way he was talking to his machine as he worked, and slowly nodded. Maybe it was just Keen thing? “He– He helped me when bandits wanted to hurt and sell me. Said that he will help me get back home.” The more the child thought about it, the more doubtful he became. Could this odd pink Keen actually help him? “I don’t know where we are, Ma’am; where I am. I’m trying to get back to the Hazhadal Barrens.”

Nortrom still refused to give his name out, remembering the preceptors lessons very well. As much as he felt an outcast and useless, Nortrom missed his bed. He missed the secure walls of the cantonment, and the fact there was food. For some strange reason, he even missed his studies. Out here? He was alone, scared, lost, and unsafe.

Sinking into his posture as those thoughts crept on him, the child huffed softly, depressed. “I don’t know what else to do but follow him.”

Rizzrack

The feline tenses ever so subtly at the mention of the bandits, her slit pupils gradually dilate. “Fi’ hateh tena fe.” Madini looks behind the boy, startled by the noise the machine makes as it sputters and returns to operational status. Desperation hinting, she continues. “Do not go with the keen. You are smart boy. You are better with me. I know the Hazhadal Barrens.” She leans back to avoid suspicion as Rizzrack returns with the now empty bottle.

“Whew, well that’s resolved! I’ll need another for the road, madame.” Rizzrack trilled as he pushed the bottle through the window. Madini is much less talkative now, a detail Rizzrack fails to notice as she refills the bottle and trades it back to the keen in return for a sum of gold. Taking the bottle, the keen does a cringing attempt to bid a farewell in her tongue as he made his way back to the rumbling suit to climb in and place the bottle away. “Alright boy let’s get you back home.”

Madini watches silently, intently, gold in paw and her pupils like a black sun in an emerald sky. What will the boy do?

Nortromthesilencer

Oh no. Doubt floods Nortrom’s little head, and now he’s not sure keen on following the keen. His expression sours, tense, and for once the boy chooses to speak up for himself. “Wait,” If he could get one thing answered, he might be more inclined to choose, finding out who really does know of his home and who doesn’t, “Where are we right now? What region, or border?” This sudden change of demeanor will most likely not go unnoticed by the Keen, and Nortrom knows it, but he has to ask. He needs answers.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack pauses and pulls his hands from the levers, confused at Nortrom’s actions. Before he can even say anything, Madini pounces at the opportunity to answer. “This town is to the west of Sunridge, where one may see across the canyon the remains of the Fortress of Valhessi.”

“Canyon? Oh, I’ve passed by a canyon not too long ago! That way.” Madini is once again quick to correct the direction the keen points in. Realizing he may be wrong, Rizzrack sheepishly plays off his incorrect finger-pointing as a hand wave. “.. That waaay… may be the best way to go. Yep.” The suit adjusts its orientation to face the direction Madini pointed to. “Thank you for the directions Madini I’ll be sure to visit you again soon.” The timbersuit begins to walk as Rizzrack is quite sure the boy would have no reason NOT to follow him, especially now that he’s going in the right direction.

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom’s doesn’t budge. He frowns, fists balled up, “Sir, are you lost?” Looking around, the child compares the sun’s path with what Madina had said and indeed confirms her directions to be true. With a cocked head and a sour look, Nortrom sighs, “I’m thankful for your help, but how can you help me get home if you don’t know where we are?”

Turning to Madina, he gestures innocently, “Ma'am said she knows where the Barrens are from here.” If she wished to keep her little conversation secret, that opportunity was now lost. Nortrom was taught to never lie, as deception is the weapon of the Fold and he was better than that, “She said she could help.”

Rizzrack

The suit stops and the keen turns to face the boy, expression in a forced smile followed by a nervous laugh. “D-do I, LOOK… lost? Do I?” Nostrils flare as the boy points out that it’s true, Rizzrack doesn’t know where they are. The keen looks to the feline and practically shoots daggers at her, now quite aware she has some sort of part in this. Of course.  Madini nods quite calmly, ignoring Rizzrack’s growing temper. “I will be gr-”

“NO!” Rizzrack interrupts. He huffs, then laughs, finding his own reaction to be a waste of energy. “No, haha, I understand! It’s okay! Stay with the cat! She knows better than I do! I don’t know anything!” He adds, hands waving about his head in dramatic fashion. “I helped out enough, after all. You don’t need me anymore. Madini will help you get home.” That last sentence in particular is said quite roughly towards the feline. Almost as if it were a threat. She remains cool and grants a mewl of pity towards the keen.  “Veti ni me’e-”

“Don’t patronize me, I know I’m wrong!” Rizzrack takes another breath, putting effort into speaking more calmly. In the end he sighs, posture slumping, defeated. He didn’t like to be wrong, but pretending to be right won’t erase the embarrassment, nor get anyone home. “Just be safe, okay? It was nice knowing you- uh…kid. ” He never got the boy’s name, but maybe it was for the best. Turning around, the Timbersuit heads back the way it came. No beckoning for the child to follow. No good bye.

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom felt guilty, very guilty, as the Keen went on his little rant. He sunk even more, shoulders tucked in, posture hidden, trying to disappear into the air. “S-sorry. Thank-you for your help…” He couldn’t take his eyes off Rizzrack as his machine walked away. Was this the right choice?

Still slumped, the boy shuffled to face Madina. His lips were pursed, sucked into an awkward frown, “I- er… I guess I’m with you now, Ma’am.”

Rizzrack

Madini’s pupils thinned, her gaze relaxing and with excellent hearing one may be able to pick up the faint sound of purring. “He is a danger. Ayi zeni, Ayi zeni… Do not feel sorrow. I will be sure that you are taken care for.” Leaving her spot from the window, she steps to the side behind the door next to where she was. There is some fumbling, some clicking, and the door opens partially to reveal more of the feline who is quite surprisingly close in height to Nortrom. She beckons the boy inside. “Come in, stay cool. I will prepare for the travel.”

Nortromthesilencer

Looking back one last time at Rizzrack vanishing in the distance, Nortrom nodded and obediently followed. Escape from the sun is most welcome, as is the prospect of finally having a route home. Forgetting about his hunger and regret, the boy instead takes comfort in what appears to finally be a positive tone to this whole damned experience.

The inner room is quite cluttered, stacks of goods and supplies gathered in crates and bags against the walls, and dirty sewn rugs laid out on the ground. Nortrom was very careful not to touch anything.

Rizzrack

Very carefully Madini closes the door. Her steps are light as she moves around and away the dim light, nearly one with the shadows and objects. She paces about the boy, her attention on moving around various objects with no real purpose, keeping the boy within her periphreal vision.

Waiting.

She steps behind Nortrom, a thin rag in her paws. When she finds she’s out of the boy’s vision and he’s grown relaxed to the environment… She makes her move.

Pressing her form against his back, she throws her hands with cloth over his head, taking advantage of whatever shriek he may have cried out of surprise by tugging rag tight between his jaws. “Shhh.” Keeping the hold firm against herself and slightly above the ground she forces Nortrom on his toes. Maneuvering him to a wall, she pins him there and hisses to a previously unseen party to assist in capturing the boy.

Nortromthesilencer

With both the door and the window closer, there was very little light. Nortrom stepped inward more, avoiding tripping on boxes or Madina, and stood still awaiting directions.

The sudden movement and force caused Nortrom to jump, his yelp cut off mid breath by a cloth being abruptly wedged between his teeth. His hands shot up trying to grab hold of her own from behind him, the awkward angle doing little to help, and the shock leaving him off guard long enough for her to shove him against the wall. Even with the cloth making it hard to speak, muffled questions and protests were attempted, Nortrom still trying to push his hand against the wall and free himself from her weight.

“W-wht ar yu dongh?!? Et ee go!”

No longer at ease, he was quite the opposite! Nortrom was terrified, expecting this woman to help him and not assault him. He thrashed, refusing to make things easy for her.

Rizzrack

Madini did not respond to him, instead she only kept him firm against the wall but unable to do anything else. That is until another pair of hands came into the picture, grabbing the boys wrists and securing them together behind his back.

“Me’in iyadereki newi?”

“Lijuni leme shet’i ini mokiraleni.”

“Madini!”

The voices sound nearly identical, giving the illusion that Madini could possibly be talking to herself. One voice is angered, apparently appalled, the other voice trying to calm the first and speaking like this is usual business. They speak in their tongue all while two pairs of paws (one being reluctant) work on binding the boy. Elbows, knees and feet tied tight together, Nortrom is pulled away from the wall and returned to it with his back against it and pushed to the floor. He is faced with the shadow silhouettes of two nearly identical felines. The only difference being their dress and demeanors. They speak to each other, the one that must be Madini trying to reason with the other, and eventually being successful. The twin gives up, only glancing the boy a blank look before stepping out of the room.

“Do not be upset. It is only to make sure you do not get lost again.” ***

He laughed, chuckled, even joked about it. It was his looks. A bald dirty keen trying to help out a child. He must’ve been scary from the start. Of course a lady, feline or not, would be more trustworthy than himself. He may have goofed up once or twice, flustered by the sudden question and not knowing east from west. He was put on the spot! He’s not that foolish…

The feeling continues to linger. It’s a feeling many others have felt, for example, what a child may feel when they see a friend run off to go play with another friend and getting left behind. Perhaps it was silly to get worked up over it, but Rizzrack couldn’t help it. What makes him feel even worse is the last memory will consist of a very miserable looking boy who definitely did not intend to make the keen feel bad. Knowing already how the boy reacts over small mistakes or accidents, Rizzrack can only imagine that he left the boy in tears. Oh no.

“He probably hates me! Probably never wants to see me again. Never ever. But I probably made him feel bad so…” The keen sighs down to his suit. “It’s okay. He’ll get home and be safe… hopefully.” Rizzrack, caught up in his thoughts, slows the suit to a stop and the engine drops into a low idle, but thoughts about the boy refuse to leave his mind. Will he be home safe? Will his parents be happy to see him? Judging how jumpy he was previously… What if they’ll yell at him or punish him for being lost? Even worse, what if they’ll beat him? Thinking on and on about it, he’s suddenly reminded of someone else with a harsh upbringing. Silencer. Rizzrack shakes his head at the thought, imagining that poor boy growing up to be a bitter man like that one. Just get the bad thoughts out of your head, he’s a young timid child. The world can’t be harsh to him. He probably just has strict parents, don’t think too much of it.

The thoughts only keep coming, thoughts about how the child was almost kidnapped, how he could fall to harm, hurt, scared, crying….

Screaming…

“Great, now I’m hearing things.”

Nortromthesilencer

It didn’t matter how he fought, the awkward angle and pulling was just too much and soon able to wrench his hands behind his back, binding them tightly. He winced, biting hard on the cleave of fabric as his shoulders were contorted painfully, rough rope digging into his skin against his will.

Turned around and pushed back, Nortrom let out a sharp exhale as he hit the wall, sliding to the ground and pulling his knees into his chest in fear. He cowed, eyes pleading with them not to do this, tears dotting the bottom on his eyelashes as he shook. Oh gods, what had he gotten himself into?

He tries one more time to cry for help, something, anything. Most likely no one is around to hear…

***

Their last mark had been a bust, and damn were they sour about it. Refusing to walk away empty handed this day, a pathetic looking trio skulked about the dust laden town in looks for their next target. As fate would have it, the nearest shop or storage haven would be owned by a certain cat-like woman, with a target of her own.

Rizzrack

Lijuni why do you let your sister play around in such undesirable practice? She steps about outside to ponder her thoughts in the visibly empty town.. all save for the figures approaching. She remembers them, as not too long ago during a nightly walk she observed them stalking a small caravan along a trail. Suspecting the trio intending foul deeds, she returns inside to see her sister Madini crouched down beside the boy, gently patting his hair and clicking her tongue softly to calm him.

“Madini, lēbochi yimet’alu.”

Her ears perk and her attention is seized away from the boy. Could it be the same bandits earlier that the keen mentioned? If so, they’ll no doubt want the boy and may pay a small sum to take him. If he was their hostage, the ransom they seek will far outweigh the expense made to regain their lost captive. The boy will be back with his family, the bandits will have their gold, and she will have her share. Perfect.

“Lijuni, tewe.” Madini rises from her spot and approaches her twin, stopping the other from barricading the door with crates. They speak more, with Lijuni growing powerless to persuade her sister away from this idea, and Madini pushing her aside to keep an eye on the boy while she steps out.

Immediately she catches sight of the party, and with graceful steps she walks from the wooden porch and approaches them with utmost confidence.

“Se ‘ami newi, my friends. How tired you are. Seek shade within my shop. Look around while you rest. Perhaps I may have something that will interest you as well?” Her voice is smooth, welcoming, so sure that yes, they will find something they will like to get their hands on.

~*~*~*~*~

Did he drink enough? What if he gets sunburn? Or dehydrates? Gets heat exhaustion? Will Madini take care of him? What if she doesn’t know the signs of heat stroke and he dies? Or worse, what if she ignores his pleas for water? What if they get lost? Would she kill and eat him to survive? She’s a predator after all, with those sharp claws and animal eyes.

Images, terrible fantasies, any horror he could think of filled his mind more and more. Why was he feeling this way? He should feel sure knowing the boy is with someone who knows the area. But why does he have his doubts and worries? Does he really trust Madini? She never personally wronged him but…

The suit stops in its tracks. He won’t get over it, but maybe, just maybe if he goes back, maybe to give a proper farewell to the boy that he deserves and to keep good ties with Madini, maybe he’ll feel better. yeah, maybe he’ll feel better.

Timbersaw turns around, stepping back through the dusty dirt towards the town in the distance. It was hot now that the sun was only just now falling from high in the sky and he had no more water on his person, but the trip back won’t take too long and perhaps he could pay a little more gold for some of Madini’s water rations.

Nortromthesilencer

With every pat the child flinches away. Other children may enjoy such coddling, but Nortrom never had that sort of nurturing touch, and to him it felt very unfamiliar and served to make things worse. He whimpered, pulling himself even tighter into a ball.

There was more speaking, more movement, and more words that Nortrom didn’t understand take place. As they spoke he fiddled with his wrists, twisting and turning them, doing little but further rub raw his flesh and cause more pain. Eventually the source of their conversations was made known, a familiar trio stepping into the home.

Nortrom’s eyes widened and he froze. Oh no. No no no.

Upon seeing the child, thoughts of raiding the place anticipated and instead turned into a much more sadistic grin, the bandits stepping closer and chuckling between themselves. “Your right, you do have something that interests us, Kehehe…”

There were negotiations, multiple bartered offered, plans, and more being made over the boy as he could only sit and listen, his own self being nothing more than a commodity to be bickered over. If any looked his way during said discussions, his eyes begged, pleaded for them to reconsider, head shaking slowly. Legs having cramped he was no longer curled up, and in opening his posture he felt even more exposed to their leers and dire intentions. It took every ounce of strength for Nortrom not to blubber like a baby.

Rizzrack

Madini was quite proud of herself, finding buyers she could bargain with, pushing her limits to get as much gold out of it as possible. Lijuni could only stand by and watch the dealings silently. No sympathy was shown for the boy, eyes blind to the fear and tears so that she may not be stirred to interfere with her sister’s work. Finding an amount she’s willing to trade Nortrom for, Madini turns her attention back towards the boy. “I can only imagine the discipline and teaching that went into raising this boy. He is worth a very fine price.” Although she is not intentionally rough, her pulling and forcing him to his feet cause pain, maybe even draw a whimper from the boy. She beckons her sister over to help hold him, and with a paw out, she waits for their payment. “He is all yours.”

~*~*~

Nearly back into town, Rizzrack continues to talk away his worries, convincing himself that everything is fine. There’s no reason to think anything wrong. His intuition wasn’t always right.

Except when…

The suit pauses and the small-keen leans over the cockpit, having caught an interesting detail in the dirt road. Footprints. Not paw pads, but actual boots. Felines weren’t find of footwear, preferring their steps to leave little to no marks or sound on other surfaces. On top of that, these marks broke over his suit’s after he left town. Someone came after him, someone he doesn’t know.

Or does he?

Worried and once again thinking the worse, the suit starts forward again, picking up pace. It can only move so fast without the assistance of a nice trunk to be cut. However it’s not long before he approaches the shop, his eyes trailing the track of foot prints right up the steps.

“Madini? A-are you still here?”

The two felines within tense up and look towards the door. Not wanting to lose her chance, Madini becomes more demanding, nearly shoving her claws into one of the bandit’s face. “Pay now or you don’t get the boy!” she hisses.

Nortromthesilencer

Yanked to his feet and roughly dragged due to being bound, Nortrom gave a muffled yelp through the gag and attempted to hop along as not to fall over. Distracted by everything going on, he doesn’t hear the sound of a voice outside, instead feeling a sharp prick of alert claws digging into his arm where it held him up.

The trio did, however, hear Rizzrack’s voice. They may not recognize it, but could tell Madini was now rushing them because of whoever this was. The smaller, portlier, of the trio dug through his bags, scrounging up what was agreed, shushing the cat to ‘calm her titties’ and stop hurrying them.

With both feline’s attention occupied elsewhere and the men not looking directly at him, Nortrom felt he had little other choice but to take his chances and get the hell out of there. Jumping up he slammed down on Madini foot, the sudden pain forcing her to let go and shout. Another strong leap pushed the boy away from all others and towards the door, his shoulder hitting it hard but not buckling the wood. Expecting he couldn’t break it down, frantic small hands behind his back tried to push the knob around. Not being able to see what he was doing, and having his movement greatly restricted at the elbows, he only just cracked the door open before being grabbed once more.

“What the fuck do you think your doin’ lad?” He was forced forward by the hair, directly into another waiting fist to his gut. Nortrom crumpled forward, as far as he could while being held up painfully by his messy black hair, and groaned. Now their property, the bandits weren’t afraid to prove it to the child through force. A strong armed punch to the face rocked Nortrom forward, slamming into the door, forcing it wide open as he toppled to the ground, “You don’t fuckin’ misbehave, ya hear me?”

Coins were thrown Madini’s way finally, the tallest focused on Nortrom who lie on the ground. After a kick that rolled him onto the side coughing, blood dripping from his previously battered nose, the child tried to curl up into a ball once more and protect himself. About to drag the child up, both men now outside stopped when they saw the cast shadow of a very large, very clunky machine.

They panicked.

One got down to the ground near Nortrom, dragging him closer by the collar, wrapping his arm around the boy’s neck to hold him close as he drew a knife and held it threateningly, “You! Don’t you come any closer!” The edge drew lightly across Nortrom’s cheek, his head pulling away only to be blocked by the arm. He whimpered.

Rizzrack

Madini quickly overcomes her pain, the scattering coins calling to her to gather them from the floor. She does not turn her eyes to the men who beat the boy. preferring to remain ignorant of the pain she’s brought upon him. Instead, she picks up every last coin and slinks her way to the opposite side of the room past the crates and shelves beckoning to her sister to follow her out the window. Unknowing to her, Lijuni does not hear, too distracted by the panic, curious as to who may be outside. They sound familiar.

Within he could hear clattering, yelling, a screech, and the door shake before falling still. Rizzrack watches intently with held breath, focused as his suspicions pulled together and formed a narrative in his mind of what just went on behind that door. What other evidence could he need?

The boy fell through the door before him, battered and beaten. Following him to the ground were two men, recognized to be the bandits from before.

That is it. Overwhelmed by fury, Timbersaw lunges forward, sending metal claws over them and crushing through the wooden door and wall as if it were merely paper, a small demonstration of what he can do to the bandits with ease.

Timbersaw roars and the hand returns to trade it with the saw , but the blade hesitates at the verbal threat. The keen is silent, frozen in place by fear and rage. He can only stare , momentarily held back by his concern for the boy. It’s only then he realizes the damage already done to the poor child. Bound, blade to his face, eyes red from tears and blunt trauma, the sight causes Rizzrack’s blood to boil in his veins. It makes him absolutely sick. He hates himself for leaving the child behind. He takes in the sight of the bandits, and it takes him a good amount of restraint to not immediately throw a blade through their bodies at that very moment.

He hates them more.

Black smoke billows from the exhaust like dragon’s breath. Blades and saw teeth continue to whirl loudly, enough to cause discomfort to one’s hearing and down out most sounds to the keen. If he had heard the boy’s whimper, he would have completely lost it on the spot. Rizzrack falls silent, but everything in his face told them,

try me.

Nortromthesilencer

“Leave the kid behind, it’s not worth it!” Dashing out of the door way, the portly bandit cowers behind his comrades in fear of Rizzrack’s powerful display and revved up blades. The one holding Nortrom shakes his head, getting to his feet and dragging the boy along with him. Being shorter than the bandit, he’s forced up on his toes, struggling to keep up with the steps, breaths cut short by the arm around his neck.

“No. We gotta get back our money, and this is insurance. We drop the boy, no guarantee that freak won’t chase us and cut us down.” The Bandit tightened his grip and took some more slow steps back. Nortrom just softly sniffled, occasionally gulping air. That knife was close, too damned close. Both of the others looked at one another, not sure what to do, “You there! Turn off that machine or I carve him a new mouth!”

Breaking away from the others, one of the bandits stepped aside the house, attempting to shimmy out of Rizzrack’s view. From the splintered door he had grabbed a long piece of wood, thick and stable, and continued to act casually as he side stepped. Just trying to escape, nothing to see here, concentrate on the child… *WHAM!* When finally ignored, he lunged at the Timber-suit and slammed the wooden piece down against the main body. It left a scraped mark across the metal and wooden frame, but much greater damage was done to the makeshift club than Rizzrack’s pride and joy. This didn’t deter the bandit, who continued to whack and smack away at the suit in various places, intent on taking Rizzrack down.

Rizzrack

Timbersaw remains in place, focus never leaving the blade. He leans forward to follow as they drag Nortrom, the keen within fuming and muttering curses under his breath. They give a demand, and if it were any other situation, Rizzrack would have very likely just went after them, but any wrong move and… He doesn’t want to think about it, but he knows he won’t be able to live with himself if that happened. Hands tight on the lever, he takes a breath and prepares to try to negotiate.

“The machine stays on.” The bandit is stubborn, but Rizzrack himself refuses to budge. “You let him go, and I don’t kill you. How about that?”

Wait a second. Weren’t there thr-

CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK

Timbersaw’s top spins around to face the bandit. Claw raises high and swipes, but misses the take down. Claw readies again for another swing, but this time the keen gasps as a shadow begins to fall over him. The reactive armor is activating, and he can’t stop it. “No, no no! STOP!”

Finding no reason to ever need to design the automatic defense system with an emergency stop and only a simple locking mechanism, the dome continues to close. He scrambles first for the lock, but in a panic, he then leaps out of his seat and grasps the rim with his hands, but it’s a futile attempt. It closes, nearly slicing his fingers with the sharp teeth as he pulls away and is left with only small gaps to look from. He’s trapped.

Trapped. And now at the will of the bandits.

Timbersaw does not move. In fact, the engine ceases and armor stays shut for as long as the other bandit beats it.

“Okay! Okay! It’s off!” Frustration and fear wavers his voice. He’s desperate now. There’s little he can see, little he can do. He may as well be their second captive. “Let him go and I’ll give you all the gold I have. Please.” His pitiful pleas reverb beneath the metal dome. He pants and gasps. It’s getting hot in here.

Nortromthesilencer

Not only are the bandits confused, but Nortrom as well. Seeing the suit clam shut and Rizzrack suddenly acquiesce to their demands stops all parties watching on, wondering if this is some elaborate ruse or a technical error.

Wooden plank still in hand, the closest reacts with one last smack against the arm of the machine before pulling back slightly, looking to the others and shrugging.

“Just how much gold are we talkin’?” Machine now off, the tallest relaxes his grip slightly, arms lowering so that Nortrom can touch the ground better. The child gasps, catching his breath in wavering pants and soft sobs. Were he not tied he might be able to do something, to help in some way. Instead, he can barely move without falling over. How pitiful. Nortrom figures that if he was going to be abused no matter where he was, he would much rather it be back at the cantonment where he was familiar and sheltered.

“You actually trust that pink freak to do it?”

“Shuddap. As long as we get paid, and live, I don’t care who has the kid. A pack of cannibals could buy him for all I care.” More steps back, this time dragging Nortrom along instead of forcing him to hop. He didn’t trust that this wasn’t a trick by the keen, and would rather run the hell away. Too bad it was hard to run with the kid in tow. “If you got enough gold, leave it on the ground and back up. It better pay us even or no deal!”

Rizzrack

“O-okay, okay!”

He fumbles through the cramped confines of his suit. It feels so much smaller than usual. His eyes sting from the sweat that drops down. It keeps getting hotter. Hold yourself together, stay calm. He finds his gold and can only hope he  has enough. Please let it be enough.

The keen’s hands pat around the dome above him. It won’t budge open any time soon, and forcing it open will only keep him stuck longer like tugging at a finger trap. He starts to take the gold coins from the pouch, flicking them between the dome’s teeth and out to the ground. “H-here!” It’s a mess, like throwing corn to chickens. Once the pouch is empty, he continues to plead. The suit stays where it stands, off.

“That’s all I have!”

Nortromthesilencer

Motioning to the portly one, hands still fixed in place holding the child, the other frowns at how much of a burden this all was. Still hiding, the other didn’t move. No way was he getting closer to that– that– THING! With a resigned sigh, the closest rolled his eyes and threw down his plank of wood, going about collecting and counting the gold. Minutes passed under the hot sun, and then, “It’s more than we paid. Not a lot, but it’s something.”

The tallest nodded. “Fine, you have a deal, freak.” Pulling himself from around Nortrom’s neck, he let the kid get his own balance before taking the knife to his bindings. First the elbows, then the knees. Then the feet, and finally the hands. He held Nortrom with one hand by the arm, wondering if they could indeed trust that this Keen wouldn’t come after them once he had the kid back.

Internally, Nortrom’s mind was racing. His captor was hesitating and not letting go; Were they even going to free him, or was this all a show before forcing him to run off? More time ticked by, the standoff feeling as though it had gone on forever. His pulse raced, sweat collecting across his tunic and soaking into the thin fabric, nerves elevated to the small gusts of wind that passed. As his thoughts grew more frantic, he became more desperate. More seconds. More waiting. No. He wasn’t going to let them run off with him, damnit! He was stronger than that!

Twisting in place, the boy lifted the hand that held him to his face and bit down hard. The skin broke as he pulled away, bloody muscles and tendons ripping, gore gathering across Nortrom’s face. The pain forced a scream from the bandit, other hand dropping the knife to grab his injury. Nortrom ducked down to the ground to avoid any retaliation, scrambling to grab the knife as he skittered forward in the space between them and Rizzrack. While one bandit reeled in pain, another kept hiding, and the third approached fast.

Nortrom threw the knife.

He may not have been a mage. He may have failed casting any spells and been mocked incessantly for it, but what he lacked in arcane power he made up for in other studies and training. Nortrom didn’t have magic but he did have damned good aim. A bit too good…

The knife landed with a sickening crunch, blade embedded deep into the attacker’s forehead. It took some time for his body to connect with what was happening, frame lurching forward a few unstable steps, blood seeping from around the hilt and out of his nose, arms limply pulled at his sides. One step. Two steps. By the third his nervous system had caught up, the rest of his muscles going limp and sending him crashing to the ground. Dust puffed up where he landed, settling in messy piles across his clothing, clinging to the sanguine leakage from his face.

The adrenaline was dropping fast. Nortrom fell on his behind, kicking back away a couple of paces before freezing, eyes wide, only now realizing what he had just done. His jaw dropped. After everything that had just happened to him, and now this, the boy broke down and started to bawl.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack can only look helplessly from the gap of the armor, but even that granted the keen little vision of what goes on on outside. The bright light entering into the dark suit blinds him and he can only hope to listen. Scratching sounds, the click of currency, their acceptence. The keen sighs, trembling, anxious to know if they’ll follow through. Cutting sounds, it seems like it.

Then a scream.

His blood runs cold. What’s going on!? The sounds of a scuffle has the keen’s nose practically pressed through the small gap. What is happening? There’s a crack… a thud… silence…

Then sobbing.

Sobbing.

What did they do??

The suit twitches, claw fingers flex… then it moves.

Timbersaw charges forward, metal foot stomping down beside the child nearly crushing him, the other foot moving inches above and over his head before landing back down upon the skull of the fallen bandit with a gooey crunch. Blind rage guides the mecha to the gold-holding bandit slack-jawed by his partner’s demise. With a shriek his arms fly up in fear as the last thing he sees are metal claws closing in.

Timbersaw lifts the cretin by the head. There is no mercy, no second thought to his actions. He hangs the struggling body close and lets the midsection blades do the work. Blood spatters all around, showering the dry dust with the red rain it thirsts for. The earth is not the only thing bathed. That’s two down, one to go. Tossing away the shredded remains, Timbersaw swings the saw arm forward. He will FIND that last bandit. It detaches. Like a glowing disc from hell it whirs through the air and chews through the wooden shop, leaving a disaster only a tornado could match.

Lijuni never left. She only watched, She regret staying. The feline ducked, nearly missing a beheading. The other bandit was not so lucky. She scrambled and screeched, clawing and bounding for protection. The structure cracked and within moments it all fell. Crashing wood drowns out the screams until all that’s left is the buzzing of the sawblade. It returns to the arm it comes from, but the pilot is far from satisfied. Tearing through the wreckage, the limp body of the feline is salvaged. Lijuni is held up to the still-closed armor of the suit, but she is seen all the same.

“If it weren’t for  you, none of this would have happened at ALL!”

The first slam.

Her body is flung back down, wheezed gasps unheard beneath the cracking and splintering debris. Her body rises again to meet her reflection in the blood that coats the armored dome.

“N-e’eh, pl-” “Do you know WHAT YOU’VE DONE!?” Her body is flung down again. Spears of wood pierce her body, puncturing lungs, stabbing organs. She is a fighter, but her struggles to escape the grip are too weak and meaningless. She rises again, and falls again, rises, falls… the pain grows distant, the sky dark…

Saws and teeth come to a halt. Timbersaw is motionless, painted with blood and holding a fur bag of broken bones. The claws open, releasing the corpse  and only then does the armor finally begin to open. Rizzrack is revealed. Condensation drips from within and back onto his dry skin. His usually pink-tipped nose and ears are flushed a vibrant red. His pupils were dilated, quick to contract from the bright light. Delirious, he slumps over the dashboard, grasping at something unseen. Slowly coming to his senses, he struggles out of the suit, practically dropping to the ground into the mess of feline blood.

….

“I’m so sorry.”

Rizzrack looks down to the bloody boy. With shuddering breathe he can only whisper out one last apology before dropping to his knees and wailing into his palms.

Nortromthesilencer

The carnage was all around him, physically inescapable. Nortrom remained kneeling on the ground, tears filling his eyes but not sobbing any longer. He had cried himself out, throat raw, blood drying over his jaw and from his nose. Where he was punched his eye was swollen half shut, bruised, and very much out of place with the vacant wide eyed stare that looked onward. Not at the blood, the death, or the destruction, but past it.

The boy may have been there, on the ground, in the middle of it all, but he wasn’t there mentally, retreated inwards and dissociating from it all, a quiet place, a silent place. He came here often to escape the pain and neglect, yet as of this point he knew not where he would go. The adult knew. The adult understood. The child, not so much.

He didn’t hear Rizzrack coming to his side, the Keen’s tears, or the gradual crashing of the building as it’s remaining supports give out. No, he heard nothing. It was peaceful here, not thinking about the fact he had just murdered someone. It was silent, there were no bodies. There was no blood. There was only himself, alone.

A familiar place. His place.

Rizzrack

The keen rocks back and forth. Between gasps and sobs he cried his mantra. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry” Pulling his hands away from his face, he looks back up to the boy. His state, it’s familiar. Not something he’s seen, but felt. Actually, it’s not even a feeling. It’s an absence of it, a numbness. When everything becomes too much to take in. When you’ve realized your world’s come crashing down, reduced to a small workshop crushed beneath the weight of vines and roots, and life as you know it is gone… You end up looking like that.

Destroyed. Traumatized.

Another sob and his heart goes out to the boy. Rizzrack drags his knees as he brings himself closer to the child. Slowly but without hesitation he brings his arms to embrace the child’s shoulders. At least he doesn’t have to be alone. Don’t let him be alone. His touch is gentle. Hands pet the child’s back, finding no other way to bring comfort.

When was the last time he cried like this? Not too long ago,after learning of the pain Silencer went through in his childhood… Why must the world be cruel to such youth?But something occurs to the keen that did not before. He slowly pulls away from the boy and looks to his eye. A familiar blue… His hair raven black…and that place…

Hazhadal Barrens. Rizzrack knew he recognized that name. That’s where the Silencer was raised with a strict upbringing. An upbringing that could cause a child to be so meek, so disciplined.

His breath is shallow, a result of being absorbed and lost within his thoughts. He snaps out of it, once again facing the boy before him. Eyeing his features, a theory burns in his mind, a crazy one he can’t ignore.

Is it possible?

The voice is soft, unsure, but desperate to know.

…

“Nortrom?”

Nortromthesilencer

Hearing that name snapped the boy out of his trance with a jolt. He gasped, breathing so shallow before and now his lungs craving, no, demanding to be filled. He looked about, again seeing the vile display before him, this time noting the keen. Was it his voice? Pushing himself up more with his hands, the boy looked at Rizzrack with fear and fought the urge to back away. To run.

“Ho–How… How do you know my…?” Was knowing who he was the cause of all of this? Trust was in short supply, and Nortrom didn’t wish to give away what he had left so easily. Not again.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack is… He’s not sure what to think. He really wasn’t expecting his thoughts to be confirmed, and now here he is with this kid who might just be the Silencer. How?

He might sound crazy, maybe he is. His hands grasp the boy’s shoulders. “Nortrom, I… This is so…” He take a breath and sighs, letting go of the boy so that his hands may instead go to his head while he tries to make sense of things. “I know your name because… because you look like a frie-… someone I know.” His arms fall back to his sides, still finding the thought to be utterly ridiculous. “You just reminded me of him. Hah, I didn’t think I’d be seeing the Silencer again in any way. I had to go away. Do you know why? Because I did something terrible to him. Ahaha…”

A twisted, pained smile as he whispered that end to himself. The boy doesn’t need to know any more horrors. “Because I thought I was doing something right. And now? I only wanted you safe.” His voice trails off in a whimper but the keen is determined to keep himself together.

Nortromthesilencer

Now he was both terrified and even more confused. Nortrom pushed back, refusing Rizzrack’s attempted comfort and placing a short gap between them. Able to take in the sights without being completely lost, he took a deep breath and got to his feet. It smelt disgusting, burnt, dusty, and… familiar. It still smelt familiar.

Turning his back to the keen, he looked at the body of the man he killed. Now crushed, the initial image of a knife sticking out from his skull remained. Nortrom did that. It would be dishonorable to the man, to the event, if he denied that fact. Nortrom knew he couldn’t hide from what had happened, and now given some time to process it, he didn’t want to.

“Nortrom. My name is Nortrom, of Aeol Drias,” Yes the Keen knew this now, but it felt more formal to give an actual introduction when before he denied to give his name. After all of this, there was no point in protecting his identity, “And I am a murderer.” He stood up straight, strong, defiant. Nortrom took a swiveling step and faced Rizzrack head on, wiping the blood and tears from his face.

“I did it to protect myself. That doesn’t make me a bad person, does it?”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack reached out, afraid to lose him again. But the child did not run. He stands tall and faces the reality about him. The keen looks up at Nortrom, unseeing of it. He no longer sees an innocent child, and his statement sends a chill down his spine. On his knees he pleads for him to renounce his statement. “No, don’t say that!“ He stammers through his horror.

“Killing monsters isn’t murder. You’re not a bad person.”

The grim surroundings burn into the keen like glares from a damning crowd. He knows what he did, but refuses to believe it is murder. He never murdered anyone. He never will.

Nortromthesilencer

While facing reality may have been his intent, Nortrom still found himself paralyzed by it all the more he thought on it. Standing there, looking at the keen, the blood, the ground, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

“Why did you come back?” It looked so very surreal, this young boy unflinching as death and decay rotted the very air around them, holding tight in a transfixing gaze his ability to move. The child huffed, lifting his tunic from his belt to continue to wipe his face. It stung.

“Thank you though. I’m sorry I doubted you; I just wanted to go home.” Another small sniffle. Nortrom forced his eyes shut and took several deep breaths. He couldn’t allow himself to cry any more.

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

Rizzrack

“I came back because I was-” His explanation is interrupted by the thanks, and Rizzrack finds it unneeded to restart and instead let Nortrom speak. “Don’t apologize.” He feels he should be one the doing that. He made the boy doubt, he made the boy afraid, he left the boy behind against his own intuition. This was more his fault than anyone else’s. Here comes the guilt again. Well, it never left in the first place. It always lingered, and now it’s a new wound over a scab.

Rizzrack stands to his feet. His knees wobble, as earlier’s rampage and the heat of the day leaves him exhausted and burnt out. He wants nothing more than to ease the boy, tell him it’s alright, but Nortrom seems to be handling it well on his own. A feat that awes the keen. “Like you yourself said, you were only  protecting yourself. Now let’s get out of here.”  Finding nothing else to say, he turns away back towards his suit and makes what feels to be a long walk. His eyes stay straight ahead and above the wreckage, but do what he may to avoid the sight, he can’t avoid the blood upon the Timbersaw.

Rizzrack returns, this time careful to avoid stepping in head gore.

“I don’t expect you to trust me, but I”ll be honest. I’m afraid. I don’t want to be… I don’t want you to be alone.”

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom flinches as the timbersuit walked up to him. Could he really trust this keen? Yes they returned and seemed very much willing to help, but they also murdered and proved to be lost. He sighed. Not like he could judge, the blood was on his hands too.

Rubbing his wrists where the ropes cut his skin raw and red, the boy looked down. In an effort to not cry again, he focused on everything else he was feeling instead, mindful of what was going on in his body. The pain of the rope burns, the torn corners of his mouth where the cloth had been cleaved tight, the bruised eye that stung with every blink, and the deep rumble in his gut.

“I’m hungry.”

Nortrom looked up at Rizzrack as he pilot the suit, showing his intent to follow the keen. It was obvious he wasn’t as stable as he let on, the inner turmoil fighting as he pushed it back.

“Can we leave? I don’t want to stay here any longer, sir.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack looks down to the boy just as exhausted as he. “Yes.” He wipes his glove across his face, smearing dirt with the thin film of sweat he can still manage to produce. It feels as if steam is blowing from his ears. Any more longer out here and there could be many more consequences to follow. They need water. They need food. There is a river  to the north from where Rizzrack had traveled from and did not expect to be traveling back through any time soon. It was not very far from the Silencer’s home and at that point the keen realizes that’s the home he needs to go to.

“Don’t panic. I’m going to carry you.”

Quite suddenly the claw comes down. It does not grab the boy roughly, it just merely nudges him onto the flat of the saw blade with unmoving teeth. Parallel to the Timbersaw’s mid-drift it acts as a makeshift bench. Something similar to what it did not too long ago. Once adjusted, the suit begins its walk.

“Now let’s get out of here.”

The boy may only notice once they leave the town that they aren’t exactly going west towards the supposed location of the Hazhadal Barrens. The keen suspects this. “I will take you home, I promise that. But…” he sighs, licking his lips and finding himself to be quite parched. “But we need to get to the closest river, and that’s thirty miles north of here… fifty kilometers… quite a ways.”

The suit speed picks up speed and could quite easily match the pace of a jogging human, maybe even surpass it. Even so, at that rate it will take at the very least a couple of hours to reach the destination. Rizzrack can only hope that despite the bumpy ride, perhaps the boy could find a moment of rest.

At least the light breeze is somewhat soothing.

Nortromthesilencer

Don’t panic? This machine of death and blades, so close and now picking him up, and the Keen tells him not to panic? The look on Nortrom’s face betrays his previously calm demeanor, hands gripping white knuckled to the claw and eyes staring at the previously spinning blades. Even sitting down the boy is tense, knowing what this damned machine was capable of now. It wasn’t so much awe inspiring any more as it was terrifying.

“That’s quite a detour…” One last look back before leaving that hellish scene behind, the scene of victim-hood. That scene of the crime; Many crimes. Nortrom leaned back against the body of the suit, his head above the lip where the control panel was. He made sure not to let his head lull in Rizzrack’s way as they traveled. Feeling exausted, the boy yawned. He knew sleep wasn’t an option, nerves still on edge, no matter now tired he was.

“Um… Could I ask you a question sir? Why– Er, No… Do most people out here try to take advantage of others?” That wasn’t the greatest wording, especially for Nortrom. He hummed, thinking of a better way to put his thoughts, “Let me try again: What do I keep doing wrong so that everyone wants to hurt me? This can’t be normal.”

Rizzrack

It was quiet for a while. Rizzrack finding it hard to initiate any small talk. He didn’t have the energy or breath to talk. The boy wants an answer however. “Because they’re evil monsters.” The boy reworded his question and Rizzrack feels obligated to try and give a more meaningful answer.

“You’re right. It’s not normal. Sometimes bad things happen to us. On purpose or on accident, but no matter how it happens, there’s a why, there’s always a reason. That reason isn’t you, but it is you. Does that make sense?” He pauses to think of a better way to express the thought. “There are people who only want to gain things for themselves. They see their victim and think to themselves ‘how can I abuse this innocent being to my own advantage?’ They lure you in with promises of love, promises of protection. Then they slowly begin to take from you while fooling you into believing it’s for a good cause. Then when you begin to doubt their kindness, they twist your words on you and make you out to be wrong. They take more and more until the blood loss leaves you dizzy and weak, then when there’s nothing left to be gained of you, they try to kill you because you’re worthless to them! Hahah! Isn’t that something??”

Throughout the speech his voice gradually grew in volume. So caught up was he within his own memories and experiences that the end of it all, he was cackling breathlessly. Taking a moment to recover, he makes a small apology and blames it on the heat.

“You can’t trust everyone. Sometimes you can only trust yourself, and that’s where your intuition comes in. I don’t always listen to mine, and look what happens, bad things happen.”

Nortromthesilencer

He listens intently to the rant, legs stretched out at an angle down the blade. Occasionally the boy nods, understanding, feeling that he’s heard a very similar speech some time before.

“My intuition,” he idly commented at the end, looking up at the sky above, “is that you’re not a bad person despite all of this. You don’t know me but you want to help. I don’t know you but even if you’re kinda strange, you seem nice.”

Nicer than most, anyways. Nicer than the other children. Nicer than his teachers. Nicer than those cat people or bandits. Nortrom didn’t know how to word it, or what to say due to a real lack of experience of people being nice to him, but he appreciated it all the same.

“It’s getting darker, sir. How much longer do you think until the sun sets?”

Rizzrack

“Oh!” He nearly squeaks, surprised.  “I’m touched… I think.”

It’s a compliment that calms him from working himself up by his own thoughts. At least the boy is honest, and Rizzrack is once again reminded of who this child really is. There is sadness, but along with it there is a little more appreciation for the Silencer.

The keen remains quiet until the boy speaks up again. “Hmm?” He wasn’t aware of it until it’s pointed out. Based on how much lower the sun is, it must be the start of evening. It felt like only minutes ago it was the afternoon. “Er….”

It’s been so long since he last used a clock. For years and years the ability to tell time never relied on a visual of marks or numbers, but instead on a feeling and how long it took to perform certain tasks or to travel from one place to another. He knew they would reach the river and clean up with plenty of time to spare before the sun vanished. The keen hums and glances at the odometer on his dashboard. “I would say two hours, give or take.”

They had already traveled far enough that Rizzrack knew that they were getting close. The change of the landscape from mostly dry dirt and scare vegetation to much more scattered green confirmed those feelings. Metal feet kick through small shrubs as they stop at the edge of water.

Beautiful, cool, flowing water.

Lowering the blade so that the boy may get down easily, Rizzrack himself lacks the patience to deny his tongue of water any longer. Crawling down from his suit as fast as he can, he tosses aside his helmet and practically goes face first into the river.

blblbblbl

He raises his head and dunks it repeatedly, alternating between gasps of breath and gulps of water. Finally satisfied he pulls back out of the river to catch his breath while slinging off his gloves so that he could wipe water and dirt from his face.

“Aaah…” He looks back to the kid. He nearly forgot about him. “Hey. Nortrom, come. Get a drink. Then let’s get you cleaned up, you’re a mess.”

Nortromthesilencer

The air feels lighter, more humid, as they get closer. The boy remains awake in silent contemplation, the sights and sounds all new to him and something to enjoy. It’s a much needed calming after such a stressful afternoon.

Nortrom hops off the blade at a much more leisure pace than Rizzrack, walking to the water’s edge. Taking his his boots and leg wrappings off, the boy sits on an elevated rock on the bank and dips his toes in. The kiss of cold water made him gasp in surprise, having to try again little by little until he got used to the feeling. As he let his feet splash, Nortrom bent forward and washed his hands before taking some water in them, cupping it to his face and enjoying the crisp taste.

Spending some time just watching, drinking, and waiting, he finally could forget all about what had happened and instead focus on what was happening. He was lost, he didn’t know how he got here, and he didn’t know how to get back. Nortrom sighed, leaning forward again to stare at his reflection. There was blood on his face still, eye discoloured and puffy, and something else, something stirring in his memories…

“Mirror…” The word was said without thought, something about it felt memorable, the tug of recollection just out of reach, “A mirror! I remember a mirror, that’s how I got here!” Excitement bounced his feet, splashing away the reflection as he turned to grin at Rizzrack with a uncharacteristic look of elation. He was proud that he remembered something, even if it was so little. But what else?

“I– I remember a mirror. Something happened, and I woke up near where you found me.” Nortrom scrunched his face and grunted, a childlike gesture of wracking his brain for more clues, “Hmmgh… I can’t remember why though…”

Rizzrack

Giving the boy his personal space to care for himself, Rizzrack continued to clean his face and go for another drink. This time he cups his hands to bring water to his mouth instead of dunking his head to drink. Nortrom’s enthusiastic exclamation surprises him and the keen momentarily splutters and coughs, fearing for just a brief moment that the boy got hurt.

He looks to him. “Hem.. M-mirror?” he squeaks, still clearing his throat around the word. Another cough. “Some sort of magic mirror?” he doesn’t know much about the Silencer, even less about him as a child, but Rizzrack does know based on their little mishap with a hexing staff that Nortrom can have unexpected results with enchanted objects. “Can you remember where the mirror was? Or if there were any people?”

Nortromthesilencer

More scrunching of the face, it looking very comical with his already injured face. Becoming frustrated by the fact nothing was coming to him, the boy pouted. “I don’t know. Let me think.”

Nortrom slips his shirt off, dunking it in the water and using it to clean himself off. Taking a smooth rock from the water, he then starts to clean the blood and dirt from his shirt with it, back and forth, a typical laundry routine.

“Hm… I remember wooden walls.” That detail me have been mundane to most, but Nortrom was raised in a cantonment built mostly of sandstone and granite, so pure wooden walls like that of a cabin would stand out to the child, “It was quiet. I don’t… No, I don’t recall any voices.”

His head was starting to hurt thinking so hard about this, and he imitated the Keen by dunking his head under the water a few times. Up and drying himself off, the child spoke under his breath, “Maybe I actually managed to cast a spell…?”

Rizzrack

A spell? The keen lets out a few chuckles. “Hah, Nortrom, you cast a sp-” He stops himself to rethink his words. Adult Nortrom is about as magically gifted as Rizzrack himself. But just because that’s a fact the keen is aware of, he shouldn’t talk down the kid. He doesn’t know. “It’s.. it’s possible! It sounds like you’re really close to solving this mystery.” Finding it shameful to gaze at people bathing (as he himself would dislike being watched), Rizzrack grabs his helmet and turns his eyes down to the water to take care of getting something to eat. Pecking under rocks with his fingers, he begins fishing out crawfish and tossing them into his bucket helm.

“So if it was a spell, what do you think it was for?”

Nortromthesilencer

Even though Rizzrack cut off his jab mid-word, Nortrom heard it, and knew full well what he was going to say. At that moment he didn’t wonder why Rizzrack would have known he had issues with casting, but instead remembered every other time he was mocked, doubted, jeered at, and belittled for being unable to use magic. The boy shrunk in his own frame, going silent. Of course it was ridiculous to think he could have ever cast something.

He didn’t answer the Keen’s other question, instead silently finishing cleaning himself off without a word or change of expression. What a foolish thought. Casting a spell. You? In your dreams. The boy’s mirthful grin was gone. He knew better.

Rizzrack

As Rizzrack was not looking directly at the boy, he only thought the silence was due to him being deep in thought. He continues digging through the bed, waiting for an answer. But the silence is unusually long. The child’s chatter is gone. Realizing that his laughter was probably the biggest tell-tale of it, he makes another attempt to salvage the moment. “Whatever the spell was, it definitely did something…?”

It finally dawns on him that the damage was done and once again he is acquainted with regret and guilt. Just be quiet Rizzrack you’ll just make things worse. After collecting a few of the little snappy critters, he sifts water in and out of the helmet to get rid of any mud they may have been covered in.

Silence. Silence. Silence.

He thinks about it, and thinks about it. Children can be cruel too.

Uncommon were the days where he as a child was able to join the other young keen on the streets. Showing off their toys, bragging about inventions their mothers may have created and holding contests about who’s father was smarter.

“My dad can count all the sand grains on the beach!” “Oh yeah? MY dad can count all the stars in space!!” “And Rizzrack’s dad can count all the rocks on his shovel!” “HEY!”

It may have been in jest, but the mere fact that his father grew up an orphan working the mines was far from brag-worthy. In fact, it was the equivalent of amounting to nothing. No family trade to continue, no master to be an apprentice to. An uneducated fool to many of the neighbors, but Rizzrack knew his father was wise in his own way.

Silence still.

“Nortrom.” Rizzrack sets the helm aside and wades over to the boy. “Look, you… You may not see it, but you are special. You’re terrible with magic. It’s not because of you… but it’s also because of you. How do I go about explaining this? Okay, I don’t get magic either. Not everyone does. That’s why I have technology. We find our strength through weakness. And you, you have something, something FAR more amazing that I’ve never seen come from anyone else! The strength you will find within you is just… It’s beyond my comprehension, really.” The keen sighs. “I”m sorry I laughed it’s just… I know you. The older you. And honestly? I‘m jealous. You’re smarter than me, stronger than me, taller than me… You’re the Silencer.”

Nortromthesilencer

Perhaps it was stress, built up and festering under the skin, a disgusting wound just waiting to burst. Perhaps it was from hunger. Perhaps he was tired. Most likely all three, but Nortrom remained silent only this time with his shoulders occasionally twitching. A few more seconds and his breaths could be heard, a quiet sniffle giving away the fact that yes, he was crying.

“What are you even talking about??” large blue eyes looked at the Keen now, wet and red, a slow draw of tears trailing down his cheeks as he accusingly store at the keen, “How do you know me?!? How do you know all this!?” Nortrom lurched forward, falling closer to Rizzrack and supporting himself up with his hands to lay in a crawling position on the stony ground. He looked up, trembling, voice wavering in panicked breaths, “What do you mean you know me?”

None of this made sense. Being here in the first place, barely remembering what had happened before, the Keen’s familiarity with name his lack of spellmanship, and now saying that they knew him as an adult? How? He was here, 10 years old, and that was the truth. How could anyone know him in another instance of time? What was even going on?

Nortrom grabbed his own head, burrying his eyes in his palms and keeling.

“I want to go home!”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack didn’t know how the boy would react, but he didn’t imagine it to be like this. This isn’t want he wanted. Trying not to panic, he desperately pats the air down. “C-calm down! Please don’t cry I’m just-This is hard to explain but I ca-” Seeing the boy fall, he follows down onto a knee. His hands are out but he does not touch the boy in fear of getting another bad reaction from it. It hurt Rizzrack to see this. He can’t do anything right for him. Nothing at all. The hurt, the confusion, the frustration. Oh, the frustration. He’s getting tired, and his patience suddenly vanishes as he hits the bottom of the pity bucket. Sympathy drains. He would never imagine himself to be this way with youth, yet here he goes.

He grabs the  boy’s shoulders and roughly pushes him back to sit on his heels. His own tear filled eyes looked into the boy’s as he yells out in exasperation.

“Grow up!”

Nortromthesilencer

Panic sets in, a response to protect himself when expecting to be harmed, hit, or abused in some way. He’s felt it all too many times before, the loss of patience of another before they lashed out and took out their frustrations and stress on him. Nortrom forcefully shoved the keen away and sprung to his feet, “Get away from me!”

Jumping to his feet and forgetting about what had been removed previously, shoes, wraps, and tunic, the boy puts a few feet distance between him and Rizzrack. “Why? Because you know me as a grown up? Because I’m obviously a useless burden like this?!?” He looks hurt, angry, sad, and a mixture of so many feelings that even Nortrom doesn’t know what the hell is going on.

Gritting his teeth, he turns and runs away from Rizzrack and into the brush, shouting out one last thing, “FINE!”

The Keen wanted him to grow up? Fine, grown up’s don’t need help. Nortrom kept running, the river long past and the greenery getting thicker. His feet stung from the thistles and stones, and his lungs were heaving as he went. The boy wasn’t sure for how long he kept going, only knowing that he wasn’t going to stop until he couldn’t move any longer. Stupid Mirror. Stupid Keen. Stupid self… Mostly that last one, this was all his fault and he knew it.

Tripping over a bump in the ground from his feet growing numb, the boy lands hard and rolls, stopping on his side. He doesn’t move, instead gripping tight to his sides as he heaves and gasps for air from running for so long. The efforts made to wash himself were all but wasted now, mud caking up and down his body and trousers, but Nortrom didn’t care. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered, he didn’t matter.

Grow up, the boy thought bitterly, I wish I could. Then maybe people wouldn’t hurt me.

Rizzrack

He didn’t expect the boy to retaliate. Rizzrack fell back and submerged. The keen isn’t fond of water, not used to frequently bathing and when he did he was reluctant to ever go underwater. He flails and splashes about before finally sitting up in the shallow water. He gasps, frantically brushing water from his face and nose until he finally calms and catches his breath. That’s when he sees the boy is gone and a nice trail of wet footprints telling of where he ran off to.

He wanted to yell out, he wanted to retort and call him out for being so childish. Rizzrack slaps down the water angrily with his hands. Fine! I don’t care! I just wanted to help! He’s going to have to accept that he won’t ever become mage! Brat!! The keen rises from the water and steps out of the river. Everything is dripping as he never bothered to take anything but the gloves off. He walks past the boy’s belongings and goes over to his helmet to angrily place it on his head.

A shower of water and sharp pinchers greets him. He slaps the shellfish away, finding any feeling of hunger to have vanished as he goes to retrieve his gloves, slipping one after the other and then flapping about as he bitched and moaned under breath.

“I tried to apologize! I tried to help! I saved him! Ungrateful!” No longer did he view Nortrom as the child he is now, but instead saw him as the man he knows he is. “I’m telling him the truth! I’m being honest! I did everything I could for him! Why… why when I was his age, I didn’t have anyone! It was just me! And… and  you!” He points to the Timbersuit off by the shrubs. It lowly purrs, saying nothing. “I tried to give him what I didn’t have! I tried to care for him! I tried to help him! I did it all to no benefit for myself! What… what did I do wrong!?” He paces about, palms tapping his forehead as he wracked his brain for an answer.

He treated him like someone he wasn’t. Silencer is who he could become, but isn’t who he already is. He is just a child, and although he has so much still to learn about the world, he wasn’t ready for all of that to hit him in one moment. It was too much. The cruelty of strangers wasn’t just a lesson taught to young Nortrom by the bandits alone. Rizzrack is just as guilty as harming him, and now the keen thinks he knows where he went wrong.

Rizzrack wished he never said his name. Rizzrack wished he never looked into his eyes. He wished he never left the boy behind, that he never went into that town, that the container of fuel never fell and broke. So many things. So many regrets. Sobbing at the edge of a river and feeling regret doesn’t do anything, however. He looks over to Nortrom’s abandoned clothing. His heart aches. He cares, and he wishes he didn’t.

Fabric and shoes are bundled up and tossed into the suit. Rizzrack follows and heavy metal steps crunch through the brush and out into the dusk-painted landscape. As much as he regret first saying the name, he knew he had to call it out. “Nortrom!” He went so long calling him by Silencer out of spite ever since the man took offense to being called ‘Nortie’.  Ever since then, keeping the relationship as something impersonal and unfriendly to convince Rizzrack to keep any fond feelings or positive thoughts out of the picture was the only reason he persisted. It didn’t work for very long.

“Nortrom!!” The wet footprints were gone now, having vanished into the dry earth some distance back. Rizzrack has no idea where he may have run, and can only hope he kept to one direction. Maybe the boy had no idea where he wanted to go. Maybe he just wanted to get away. The blood crusted suit continues on, the pilot desperately still crying out to the boy.

Nortromthesilencer

One the ground, wet, muddy, and sore, Nortrom is quick to learn just how cold it is outside without shoes or a shirt. His grip on his sides tightens and he curls up, crying becoming nothing more than a pathetic whimper and sniffle. He doesn’t hear the calls at first, and when the first hint of his name is carried on the wind the boy cringes. Maybe if he stays quiet he’ll be left alone. Maybe if he stays here he’ll just disappear and no one will miss him. The sad oddity of a 10 year old thinking about his own death and wanting to die was lost on Nortrom, too caught up in self hate. They said he was a burden, so why would they care if he vanished?

Rizzrack didn’t relent. The voice got louder, and Nortrom knew he was getting closer. Nortrom groaned and rolled on to his back, arms splayed out, legs apart, a carpet of flesh and mud on the ground. Maybe if he was lucky that giant robot saw thing would step on him and crush him, putting an end to this.

Silencer. What a joke. He was probably mocking me for failing as a mage, who would call someone ‘silencer’ anyways?

Rizzrack

The ground crunches beneath every step the suit takes until it comes to a halt. The keen is silent, making out the form of the boy laying upon the earth in the dim glow of the evening. Lucky thing, for if he looked any smaller, likely wouldn’t have seen him. With a shuddering breath the keen is relieved. He shuts off his suit. It’s silent, save for the soft chirping of crickets, the gentle breeze through blades of grass and the light brush of feet across the ground. A short figure stands besides the boy with arms full.

“You… you left your clothes. It’s cold out here at night. You’ll need these.”

Nortromthesilencer

Drat, his plan was foiled. Nortrom rolls on to the opposite side of the keen and culls up defiantly, “Good. Maybe I’ll freeze out here.” A few seconds pass, and guilt eats at the boy, so used to obeying authority and not protesting. He rolls back again, this time to face the keen, “… Thank you, sir.” It sounded soft and reluctant, but Nortrom couldn’t bring himself to be any more of a dick to the closest thing to an adult around here.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack made no move but to only look down upon the boy and sigh. He could only wait. His brows creased, expression like a father who patiently waits for his toddler to grow tired of pouting. It’s quick, and he hands the articles over one by one as they’re placed back on. “You really don’t have to call me sir. You can just call me Rizzrack.” Handing over the last piece, he sits on the ground across the patch and faces Nortrom. His breath shudders, signifying that he too had got done crying as well not too long ago.

This is a quite familiar setting.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you. I shouldn’t have lost my patience.” His voice cracks somewhere in there, so he attempts to speak softer. “I’m just a crazy little keen who said a whole lot of things you didn’t need to hear or know. If I were in your place I would have been just as scared. Maybe more.”

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom was ashamed of losing control like that, and hid his eyes from the keen even after getting dressed. He sits cross legged, head cast downward, hands in his lap.

“I’m sorry for acting immature, si— er, Rizzrack.” About now would be the time he would be hit, yelled at, and locked away for disobeying and being beligerant, yet Nortrom for once in his life assumes that won’t be the case. He dips his head even further, an apologetic gesture, a pathetic gesture.

“I’ve caused you nothing but trouble. I don’t know what’s going on, or why, but I do know that if this were a test I’ve failed terribly.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack remains quiet, hesitant and unsure of just what to say without it being some other dumb utterance that could upset the boy again. It’s surprisingly hard to comfort someone, to be the mature support that a child needs when he himself is just as troubled. “Well, if there has to be someone who failed today, it’s me, not you. I’ve failed.” He sighs, stressed and worried the boy may still be fearful of him and his intentions. “But I can’t give up despite that.” Rizzrack looks to the child, eyes pleading, voice sincere. “Can you trust me to take you home? Believe me when I promise you to take you where you belong.”

Nortromthesilencer

He’s hesitant to trust anyone, always have been always will be. Now it’s even harder, but as the boy rises to his feet he nods. Hunger be damned, Nortrom was used to going nights without food as punishment, and he could handle it.

“I’ll accept, as I have nothing else to rely on.” Did he trust Rizzrack? No, not really. Was there any better alternative? Also no. It was one of those cases where the boy may as well go with the flow and accept things for how they are.

Looking even worse for wear now than before, albeit with less blood and more mud, the boy shivered. Night had set upon them fast, and with it the creeping shadows grew ominous. “I’ll follow your lead, s– Rizzrack.” Old habits are hard to break.

Rizzrack

There is another sigh of relief from the keen. He gets up and does his best to brush away the clumps of dirt that stuck to his bottom and legs. He gets into the machine and it starts up again, familiar deep purr drowning out the songs of nocturnal insects. Rizzrack knows they still have quite a bit more traveling to do along the river until he’s back to familiar lands. He wants to get there has fast as possible , so just like before the timbersuit guides the boy to sit on the unspinning saw like a seat and begins the trip back north again.

The Timbersuit speaks in place for Rizzrack as it steps along the river following a thin trail nearly lost to the darkness of night. Rumbles, clanks and the occasional squeak of a joint fill in for ramblings and gripes of the keen who would normally jump at the opportunity to  rant. Instead he is silent. He’s exhausted. Physically. Socially. So used to only having to worry about himself, Rizzrack is left running on empty. The thought of finally being alone is a very pleasing one.

The darkness of night settled long ago. Nothing but the stars and waxing moon light the field around them. There is more grass, full and green with scattered tree stumps across the plains and hills. Some spots of trees that were spared from being cut speckle a portion of hills that a few homes reside on. It’s all familiar even under the mysterious visage of darkness, and the keen finally mutters. “Almost there.” Words exhaled as if he  were bearing a heavy load. He eyes in the distance a familiar cabin far from any other and knows that it is only a moment longer until he walks up the path to that door once again.

Nortromthesilencer

Despite all of his efforts, Nortrom can’t help but fall asleep as they travel. The hum of the timber suit, the hunger in his gut, the pain of wrists rubbed raw from rope and other injuries, the cool evening air: It all leads to the boy curling up on his side atop the flat of the blade and slumbering.

Up the mountain the suit plodded on, the pathway well groomed and maintained for ease of travel. Bordered by tall trees and ample brush for wildlife to hide, soft sounds of crickets and nocturnal creatures occasionally break the silence of the night. Soon a familiar stone fence pushed back the foliage, leading the rest of the way up to the clearing where Nortrom’s lodge resides, nestled on the cliff overlooking a small village.

It’s still, with no sign of the owner for very obvious reasons. Only the timbersuit disturbs this place, and were it not for the child in his possession there would be no indication that anything was amiss.

Rizzrack

They made it.

Timbersuit slightly bowed, the engine rumbles to a halt and the driver climbs down tiredly, careful not to startle the boy yet from his rest. Rizzrack approaches the door. It’s dark, but patting around looking for the lock and handle causes it to budge, telling that the door was left open. Pushed wider, the keen steps in to inspect the room. He sees no obvious signs that the place has been invaded from what he can make out in the darkness. No risk of getting jumped. Good. Door propped open, Rizzrack turns to the sleeping boy.

“Okay.” He readies himself, takes in a deep breath and exhales, and as gentle as a keen a tad smaller than a ten year old can, he scoops  his arms beneath shoulders and knees and lifts him from the saw. Oh boy. Maneuvering his way in, he carries Nortrom over to the couch he last saw the man reclining against. He places him down and carefully pulls away. Whew. Such a good couch.

Rubbing the small of his back, the keen looks around. Of course there isn’t much one can see in the dark. Remembering a lantern nearby, he searches for it, finding it close to the door along with some matches.

Now with a portable light, he closes the door and turns his attention to the kitchen for some food. Having calmed his nerves during the travel, he  finds himself quite famished. He can imagine Nortrom will be as well as soon as he awakes.

Nortromthesilencer

The boy stirs once on the couch, the awkward angle of being carried by a small Keen more than enough to awaken him. He yawns, groggy, and stretches with a groan.

Nothing is out of place on the main floor, even if the boy looking around doesn’t know it. Tidy as can be, the main room and kitchen looked barely lived in, but completely free of dust and cobwebs. Nortrom gets up and stretches again, turning to Rizzrack with half lidded, sleepy eyes, “Is this your home?”

His eyes trace ever wall and angle. There is something oddly familiar about this place…

Rizzrack

Rizzrack rummages around through drawers and cabinets, tracking flecks of dirt across the floor. It can be comparable to a maze for the keen, coming across assorted kitchen ware instead of anything edible. Finally understanding the organization of things, he’s managed to gather a bowl with an assortment of fruit, seeds and strips of jerky.

The voice slightly startles him, and he panics at the question. “It’s y-… No, not exactly. But-” The keen hopes that being honest is the right thing. He walks over, lantern in one hand, bowl in the other. “I don’t think there would be any objections to me making myself home. As long as I keep the place tidy.” So much for keeping the floor clean. Rizzrack hands the bowl over to Nortrom before picking out a strip of meat for himself. He glances about chewing, and it’s then he realizes… He’s gotta go. Despite being so thirsty, he drank enough water to make it through him.

“Eat as much as you want. I’ve gotta take care of business really quick. I’ll be back, don’t worry.” Placing the lantern down so that Nortrom wouldn’t be left in the dark, Rizzrack steps outside to find a suitable spot to relieve himself in.

Nortromthesilencer

Food! Sweet, glorious, nourishing food! Nortrom is more than happy to begin to eat, his resolve of ignoring hunger gone the moment he smells the dried meats and other goodies. Manners are out the window, and the boy stuffs a large apple in his mouth and bites down greedily. He nods at Rizzrack, still remembering to not talk with his mouth full at least.

The small apple was no match for Nortrom’s mighty jaws. Taking a handful of seeds and a strip of meat, he looks curiously at the home. If this wasn’t Rizzrack’s home, than who was the owner and why were they gone? Nortrom stood up and explored the main floor: closets, bathing room, kitchen, and all. He noted stairs going up, and a large hatch in the hall, much too large for him to open alone, and decided the stairs were the best route for more adventure.

Lantern in hand, the boy ascended the wooden steps. The first room was tiny, and looked out of place with the rest of the tidy home. Loose sheets and books were strewn about, pillows thrown into a corner, papers with crude drawings messily tossed about. Whoever stayed in this room didn’t care much for organization. Moving on, another storage closet, and finally what looked to be the master bedroom. It’s was massive, the large four post bed near the entrance, wooden dressers and shelves lining the walls, a few desks, and… What was that? Against the wall there was a strange twine wrapped sculpture with a few open cut boxes and platforms placed at seemingly random points. It was damaged, the twine ripped and torn on the base of the main stand. What an odd looking thing.

In the dark the boy didn’t notice that not all was in place and neat, and he nearly fell over tripping on a loose black cloth that hung out of a flat case lying open on the ground. Kneeling to get a better look, it was then Nortrom noticed his lantern reflecting off something else partially obscured by this black cover.

A mirror. THE mirror.

He jumped back in shock, the strange words and jumbles of information Rizzrack had spoken off echoing in his head. How could he know this place if he had never been here? Something strange was going on, surely. Nortrom rushed back downstairs, leaving the open case and mirror where he found them, and called out looking for Rizzrack.

“Rizzrack, Rizzrack! I found the mirror- or I think I did! It’s just like I recall, come quick!” The panicked wonder and excitement was marred by an underlying fear in his voice.

Rizzrack

Head hanging back, eyes closed, Rizzrack looks to have almost fallen asleep standing, having already finished moments earlier. Swaying on the spot, it takes someone calling his name to snap him back to alertness.

“O-oh! Alright I’m on my way!”

Seconds later he’s run to the door and steps through, still slipping his gloves back on. “I’m here,  I’m here. Where is it?” Curiosity peaks. When the mirror was first mentioned, Rizzrack didn’t think of it as a possible cause to Nortrom’s current state. He actually didn’t think such a thing existed, just something the boy thought up of as he tried so hard to recollect memories. But now? Maybe he can see just what happened, or how it happened, why… and if it could happen  again.

“Show me, b-but let’s not touch it or anything yet, okay?”

Nortromthesilencer

He nodded, still overcome with excitement as he led the keen upstairs and into the master bedroom. There, on the floor where he left it, was a wooden box with runes carved along it’s edges, lid flipped open. Out of it a black satin like sheet led, curled over the edge and on to the wooden planks where it loosely wrapped around half of an ornate, silver framed, oval, mirror.

“This is what I saw– er– remember, sir. The wooden walls, the black sheet, the silver mirror; Everything!”

Nortrom set the lantern down on  the ground, angling it to illuminate the room better as he looked around for some other source of light they could use. There was a torch scone by the balcony door, and the boy grabbed it and brought it over. “Here, this may help.” Rizzrack told him not to touch the mirror, and so the boy waited and watched instead.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack follows Nortrom up the stairs, finding the very act of climbing steps through a home to be… Nostalgic in a sense. Cautiously the keen follows Nortrom in, looking about at the belongings and studies before finally looking at what the boy is excited to show him. “So, this must be… Hmm.” Rizzrack grabs the torch and lights it. Holding it firmly in both hands he stares at Nortrom and waits for him to do something.

Oh, I’m the adult here. Well then.

“Uh…” Unsure and hesitant he looks to the mirror facing up. What if it pulls some other funny stuff? Step by step, inching closer, he gradually peers over at the mirror being sure to not let his reflection be seen by himself. “Do you remember saying any spells or incantations? Or touching it?” With a single finger he begins to inch the fabric off the mirror to show off more of its frame. Nothing quite happens yet, so to test the waters he waves a hand quickly over the top of it.

Nortromthesilencer

“I, hm…” The boy thought, the mirror reflected. Nothing happened as the mirror was revealed, safe for a greater reflection of light and flame off it’s now exposed surface. The hand shows as one would expect, and for all intents and purposes it’s just a mirror.

“I was holding it, looking at it but it wasn’t me. I mean, the reflection wasn’t right but I could be remembering wrong because that doesn’t make any sense.” Nortrom huffs to himself, realizing how silly it all sounded. Kneeling on the ground, he grows impatient and pulls the cloth all the way off, folding it neatly into the box but still not touching the mirror itself, “It’s just a mirror. I don’t see anything special about it.”

Rizzrack

“Well that’s the thing with weird magic stuff. They look like your typical book, you open it and then suddenly there’s five golems chasing you.” Still slightly suspicious of the mirror, he quickly taps it with the leather covered tip of his finger. Nothing still.

He slowly picks it up in one hand and begins rotating it around to inspect it, maybe even find something like instructions. This mirror has GOT to have been responsible for this. He even looked for cracks, recalling the mishap that hexing staff had caused. Then again, maybe the boy IS right. It hasn’t done anything to make him believe it’s magical. Rizzrack hums a note of disappointment and believes now that it is in fact just some ordinary mirror. He holds it over to Nortrom and decides that perhaps maybe there is something in the box.

Nortromthesilencer

Hesitant to take the mirror, Nortrom gives Rizzrack a concerned frown, looking for approval. The keen passing it over is good enough, and he takes the mirror in both hands just like he remembered. The edges are etched with ornate detail and flourishes, making this mirror look like something a Lord might have in his manor, but still there’s no sign of anything strange.

The boy watches Rizzrack explore the case, but finally works up the nerve to look directly at himself in the mirror. The light may be low but he can still make out his features, the black hair, the injuries, the blue eyes, the… wait. Something wrong. Nortrom can’t bring himself to look away no matter how hard he tries, and is unable to say a word or motion that this is the case. He’s stuck, transfixed staring at this mirror, trapped in his own body and knowing that this is the case. The boy’s mind spins, panicking, trying to use every thing he can to pull away and instead he just kneels there, calm, looking.

The reflection ripples ever so slightly. With each blurring motion it shifts, the boy’s face changing bit by bit. His features harden, lines becoming more defined, older. His eyes brighten with a soft glow, deep set and tired. His hair grows longer, his jaw more square. The boy is terrified now, his body shaking from fear. Once the image has completely changed to what he perceives as a completely different person (Or was it really?) he pulls back with a gasp.

Panting for air, Nortrom is quick to place the mirror down and back away. The image on the mirror hasn’t moved with him, acting more like a picture frame than a reflective surface. Still panting, he points in exasperation to this oddity taking place, hoping Rizzrack pays attention.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack is completely unaware of what goes on behind him. The silly keen is much too occupied pecking around the fabric and wood of the box. No etchings, no scrolls, no writings in blood. He sighs, feeling they were no closer to solving this mystery. He scratches the back of his neck while pondering about the next step to take when sounds of shuffling catch his attention. It sounded quick and abrupt so he turns and sees a very bewildered boy pointing down to the mirror. He assumes the boy dropped the mirror and is panicking, fearing he may have broken it.

“Nortrom, it’s okay it’s okay! It’s just a silly mirr-YEIP!” Hand reaching to pick up the object quickly recoils back. Nortrom’s older visage burned into the reflection completely catches Rizzrack off guard.

“D-Do you see that too?!” He points to it, looking like a pink midget parody of the boy. “The mirror IS responsible!”

Nortromthesilencer

“I– Who is that? What is that?” Eyes darting between Rizzrack and the mirror, Nortrom gets to his feet and scratches his hair, dumbfounded. “Why would that have to do with all of this? I’ve never been here bef–” His word cuts with a violent jerk, the boy choking back a harsh breath. His hands flex, confusion drawing into a pained grimace and another lurching jolt. Nortrom’s hands gripped at his clothing, looking for something to hold on to as the pain intensified.

“It hurts! What, what is going on?!?” The child’s knees buckled and he fell forward, form crunching low and arms moving over his head. It hurt, oh god did it hurt. He felt like his body was being torn in two, mind being ripped from his head and flung around the room, innards twisting and turning in ways that shouldn’t be possible. Forcing himself out of his confined ball, he looked up at Rizzrack in agony, tears rolling down his face, “Rizzrack! Help, it hurts!”

Another jolt of pain extorts a yelp and the boy falls forward, head pressed to the ground on his knees, rocking back and forth as he cried out for the torment to stop.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack stammers, trying to figure out how to safely explain to the boy he’s looking at the older version of himself. Before he can even form a coherent word, the boy’s cries of pain alert him to panic. What’s happening? He’s just as confused as Nortrom is.

He quickly crawls over to the boy, trying to look under him, trying to see if something were harming him. But there seems to be no outer source causing. Instead, something within, and Rizzrack feels completely powerless to stop it. Here he is, this poor child who has already gone through more pain than anyone should in a day let alone their life, crying out for help to a keen who can’t do anything at all.

“I-I want to but I can’t I-” his own hands grip the brim of his helm in helpless horror. No, there must be something, there MUST be something! Pained pleas, tears of suffering, desperate begging… It quickly overwhelms Rizzrack. He embraces the boy in one last attempt to stop the pain, and that’s when he eyes the mirror. That damned thing, the cause of all this pain! He hated it. Absolutely hated it. And anything Rizzrack hated, he destroyed no matter what.

Lunging for the mirror, he grips it with both hands, fingers pressed so tight the frame of it crackled. Then with arms over head, mirror raised high, he brings it down and smashes it back down into the box from whence it came.

“FUCK you!”

A slam of the lid follows suit, and the trembling keen turns back towards the child. Well… Rizzrack expected to turn back and see a child

Nortromthesilencer

The shattering shower of glass brought with it a flickering light, each shard a spotlight that condensed where the child was blinded him from the outside world. Blinded by light, blinded by pain, blinded by how own hands over his eyes as he screamed, the massive arcane force that erupted from that spot blew papers and sheets from their rest, snuffed the lights, and knocked the child flat on his back.

Well, sort of.

By the time he hit the ground, it was no child. The contorting pain materialized from the light, dissolving over his body and in an instant reforming into a much larger frame. It only took seconds for everything to settle down as though nothing had happened, save the mess of papers and now grown man splayed out on the ground in casual attire. As for the rest of the room, it was dark as once before.

Nortrom groaned, lips curled in a sneer. His head was pounding, akin to the one time he found himself hung over and swore never to do that again. Keeping his eyes shut he rubbed his hands down his face a few times, skin stretching, massaging, in hopes it would help relieve some of his grogginess. Slowly he opened his eyes, the pale blue glow easily seen in the dark of the night. Night? Just how long had he been out? Last time Nortrom remembered it was early morning…

Rizzrack

Rizzrack was quiet, silent, listening to the familiar grunts of a grumpy man. The glow of eyes is unsettling. Rizzrack knows very well that, despite darkness masking all, there is no longer a child there. Still coping with the overload of emotions moments earlier, he remains still with held breath. After what nearly felt like a minute, he slowly takes in a deep breath and makes his presence known with a cautious whisper.

“Nortrom?

Nortromthesilencer

The voice from the silence made Nortrom jump to a sitting position, only to immediately regret getting up so fast and bend forward, holding himself up by a hand as he waited for the dizzy spell to pass. He sighed, shaking his head, an odd after feeling lingering, heavy, hazy, and definitely not comfortable.

“Rizzrack? What the hell are you doing here?” Slowly looking towards the balcony window, the Silencer grunted in annoyance, “What time is it? Actually, better yet, what day?” He had to know how long it had been.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack flinches, still programed to react to Nortrom’s pain with concern. He grows aware that Nortrom may not remember anything at all, and the thought of trying to explain anything without sounding crazy (hah) seems like a waste of time. Despite those thoughts, Rizzrack digs around for the matches he grabbed earlier. Finding the lantern where he last saw it, he lights it and finds the man sitting and quite frankly, still looking terrible.

“Uh, it’s… About three in the morning. A Tuesday morning.”

All a complete guess, well, the time is a guess. The day of the week is based on Rizzrack’s own calendar as he hasn’t seen an official one in years. He could be right. He could be wrong. Who knows? What he does know Nortrom is not going to be happy to see him, his room in a mess and… Oh, the mirror. Rizzrack hopes that wasn’t important.

“Does anything hurt?” He’s still concerned. Every second looking at the Silencer that passes, his heart sinks more and more, but despite it all, he is happy to know that Nortrom isn’t hurting anymore.

It feels so strange.

Nortromthesilencer

“Three in the…? Ah fuck…” The whole day was gone. Great. That’s exactly what he didn’t need to hear, but had to accept it all the same.

Nortrom squinted as the light was shone, piercing in the darkness uncomfortably. He got to his feet, a bit wobbly at first, and reached up to the hanging brazier from the ceiling beams above. The spring flint tied to it’s frame served it’s roll well, allowing the man to light the coals and illuminate the room fully.

“Hurt? How about everything? I swear, that’s the last time I believe the reports when they say that something is inert…” He grumbles to himself, bitter about this whole situation. Artifact retrieval? Sure, a common task and something he’s done many times. Most, however, were correct in their handling procedures and expectant of the way his powers behaved oddly around magic. This time, not so much. Stretching his shoulders, Nortrom vowed to punch whoever wrote that damned report.

“I feel like my head’s being accosted by a small siege engine. Ugh. Rizzrack, you haven’t seen a silver framed mirror around here, have you?”

He looked around, the arcane binding case still by his feet, closed roughly with the protective drapery stuck out of the edges, and wondered if he actually managed to seal the damned thing before blacking out. Squatting down, Nortrom started to notice something else, the small flecks of glass hinting at something more. A sudden look of worry marred his features, and he bolted to open the case.

Shards. Lots and lots of shards and a bent silver frame. The colour drained from his face. “… I am in so much trouble…”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack said nothing when asked about the mirror. He watched Nortrom walk over to the box, his heart speeding up with every step. He was glad he could walk again without casts but at the same time… The look on Nortrom’s face was nearly enough to get Rizzrack to jump over the balcony and run. He won’t say what happened, but his looks we’re a dead give away to anyone that he knew what happened. After all, the keen looked guiltier than a dog covered in pillow feathers. He set the lantern down in a safe spot upon a desk. Just in case.

“It was… I’m sure it was already broken to begin with. Heh… Anywhoo, um, it’s… Good to see you’re alive and well at least. With great use of your legs again. So I’m just gonna go…. Okay?” He squeaks as he begins to step his way to the bedroom door.

Nortromthesilencer

His head darted from the mirror to the keen, expression piercing, worried, ready to stop Rizzrack if he attempted to run, “Wait. You still haven’t explained why the hell you’re in my house.” Something was up. He knew it.

Throwing his hands up and running them roughly through his hair with a very loud groan, Nortrom knew he was going to hear hell from this. He kicked the case in frustration, mumbling to himself ways he could explain this. “No, no… No matter how I spin this I’m in deep shit…” He was supposed to bring back an inert, thought lost, artifact, retrieved from the depth of an abandoned ruin. Instead, he shattered it before transit.

His hands gripped as his hair, tugging a bit, frustrated. “Rizzrack, what the hell happened here?”

Rizzrack

Remember, you can run! He’s upset, he’s not gonna listen, and you’ll permanently get on his bad side.

Rizzrack is nearly at the door but he can’t find that last push to get out.

You broke the man’s legs before, if he gave you a chance after that, then surely he will after you explain everything and this broken mirror.

“Okay okay! I’ll explain everything! But it’s a long story and you’ve got to hear me out on this.”

He tells Nortrom of how he found a young boy out in the middle of nowhere being attacked by bandits. He tells Nortrom of how he saved the boy, how they travelled to a town to get fuel so he could take the child home, how the child got recaptured, how they escaped….

“So we get to the river, there’s a bit of a misunderstanding between us, hence, heh why I’m all muddy. Anyways long story short I apologized, the little boy apologized, we had a nice quiet trip back to home–your home, then he found the mirror. Then that… That damned thing…” He snarls. “He touched it and that thing was hurting him and I, I didn’t know how to stop it except by smashing it. So I did it, I smashed it. Alright?” He sighs, no longer looking ready to run, but instead intent on setting everything straight and approaches Nortrom closer, ready to tell him the rest. “But…” Suddenly his throat tightens on him and he chokes on his words.

Oh God no.

His hands go up to his face, covering his mouth but failing to cover the tears that begin to well in his eyes. “That poor boy is gone now, and now you’re here. B-but so many terrible things happened… to him…to you…that poor child was you.” Rizzrack can barely hold himself together as he looks up to Nortrom, barely sputtering out his words between choking sobs. The little keen is so distraught. “Why DID they hurt you? You didn’t deserve ANY of that!” The last few seconds he spent with the boy is burned in his mind. His pleading cries, his pain. His eyes connect with that glowing blue gaze, and he fears that somewhere in there, he is still hurting greatly.

And there is nothing Rizzrack can do to help.

The day’s events have obviously taken their toll on the small-keen. He begins to pace about, sobbing and muttering fragments of sentences. Poor child, poor Nortrom. He recalls a particular moment after he discovered the identity of the child, and Rizzrack can only curse the name of Aeol Drias repeatedly.

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom listened intently, becoming more confused as the story went on. How peculiar! So the mirror had some sort of chronology altering affect on him, changing his form and pulling from his past memories to recreate what he once was. Nortrom hummed in curiosity, brows furrowed as he thought.

Hearing Rizzrack’s fervored passion for the trials and tribulations that his child self faced, the Silencer sighed and tilted his head sympathetically, “Rizzrack, it sounds like you’ve been through a lot today. I admit, I’m still not completely sure what happened, but I do know you need some rest. If you want you can sleep here, I’ll get a quilt and some pillows from the closet, and the couch should be more than big enough.” Truth was that Nortrom too was exhausted and needed time to think this all over, and knew he would have more questions for the keen in the morning.

“I think we both need some rest. I’ll deal with the mirror tomorrow.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack could not speak a reply. Face in elbows to hide his tears, the small-keen could only nod in agreement that yes, he would like to rest. The desire for comfort exceeds his wants for the safety of his suit. There is a little quivering peep of “thanks” before Rizzrack turns to leave, making a straight bee-line for the couch. He won’t delay himself from sleep any longer.

Hands first, knees follow. He crawls onto the couch. Face into the crevice between backrest and armrest, the rest of himself curls up into a little ball, quite similar to how he could sleep within his suit. The only article of wear removed from his body is his bucket helmet, which sits just below his feet also on the couch. Crusted boots, stale gloves, Nortrom’s couch won’t be making it out of this encounter spotless. Already content to be laying down and finally hiding from it all, he closes his eyes.

The shudderings and sniffles gradually leave to leave only the slow and steady sounds of rhythmic respiration.

Nortromthesilencer

Glad that his offer was accepted (as it would mean not having to hunt the Keen down at a later date), Nortrom followed his downstairs and grabbed a thick blanket from the linen closet as well as a spare down pillow. He set the pillow beside the curled up Rizzrack so that he could grab it as he pleased, and unfurled the blanket over top the poor Keen. He looked pathetic, curled up, crying, and now tucked away in his little blanket cocoon. The tired Silencer wished to follow suit, and head back upstairs to get the torches doused.

Torch snuffed, Keen put to bed, it was time to zonk out. Flopping down on the bed with little care for clothing, Nortrom was lost in slumber mere seconds later. For once his sleep was uneventful, no dreams to recall, only the dead silence of night. He awoke early, as usual, and checked on the mirror now that the sun was starting to rise and illuminate the room.

It was unsalvageable. Nortrom expected as much, but had to be sure. Careful to not miss any shards, he tucked them into the black satin cloth and set it all gently in the case. Not making a sound he tip toed downstairs with the broken bundle. Rizzrack was curled up, still snoozing away, with Stig contently loafing in the morning sun that grazed one of the many windowsills. Assuming he had time before the keen awoke, Nortrom decided to quickly use the teleport route to Aeol Drias and get the whole mirror fiasco over with as soon as possible.

***

The sun was overhead, time well past noon. Nortrom groaned as he shut the door, careful not to bend his shoulders too far or touch his back to anything as he walked. Even with the fresh bandaging wrapped about his upper torso, the brushing of his loose shirt stung the freshly torn nerves. As expected, the Factol’s were pissed. This was a mistake he made in handling an artifact, something irreplaceable and deemed important to the order, and it was only fair that he be punished as such.

Walking with an awkward gait from the lashing injuries across his back, still fresh, still lightly soaking the bandages in a soft red, Nortrom grabbed the pitcher of water on the kitchen counter and poured himself something to drink. By this point the man had forgotten he had let Rizzrack stay the night, and instead focused more on thoughts of what he could have done better to prevent this all from happening. There were no doubts in Nortrom’s mind that this was his fault ultimately.

Rizzrack

He awoke. For what may have been the tenth time. He can’t remember what keeps waking him. Maybe he’s just not used to sleeping this way. Once again he turned to his opposite side, facing outside the couch and pulls the quilt over his head. He had to keep reminding himself of where he was, where his suit was, and of course to not panic. Everything will be fine.

The door opens. A stranger? A visitor? It’s Nortrom. He figures he must have not heard him left in the first place. Where did he go to? Rizzrack peers beneath the covers, watching him make his way into the kitchen. Why is he walking like that? Why is he making that face? Is he upset? It would be understandable. Rizzrack mimics the expression, trying to understand this new situation. Should he stay quiet? He waits for Nortrom to turn the other way and takes this opportunity to sit up, tossing aside the quilt and finding his helmet (now on the floor) he places it back upon his head. He eyes the door, looks back to the man, then steps down from the couch and makes his way over towards him.

“Nortrom?” Rizzrack approaches the corner of the counter and rests his fingers and chin upon it, keeping the rest of himself hidden. “Thanks for letting me sleep here.” He backs his face away from the counter, but hands remain upon it. “Look I… sorry again about the mirror. If there’s any way I can make that up to you…”

He spies something on the back of Nortrom’s shirt. Something that could be easily glanced over. A small, reddish spot. The keen’s brows crease with worry as the sight raises within his mind certain thoughts. “… Are you okay?”

Nortromthesilencer

He flinched at the voice, remembering second later that yes he allowed Rizzrack to sleep there the night. Nortorm huffed a small, entertained, chuckle at his reaction before continuing on grabbing a plate and stove rack from the cupboards. “Good morning, or should I say afternoon?” He shrugs, wincing and immediately regretting the action.

Figuring it would be best to be polite, he poured a second glass of water for the keen and set it before him, then took a large swig of his own. God he needed that. “I’m fine. And I already spoke with my superiors about the mirror. It’s been dealt with.”

Nortrom went to the small stove and lit the flame, placing the rack topper above and waiting for it to heat. He turned to Rizzrack, trying his best to act casual, “Hungry?” Sure it wouldn’t be anything special, but right now Nortrom craved something substantial, and he knew he had a thick cut of venison in cold storage that would fit his needs very well.

Starting to walk down the hall to gather what he needed, the man stopped, “Rizzrack, I– Hm. If you don’t mind, I would like to discuss the other day. I have questions.”

Rizzrack

His worry never leaves him despite Nortrom’s cheery greeting (which Rizzrack finds uncharacteristic of him). He takes the cup and sips it, nose bumping the opposite side of the rim. It’s a typical experience when drinking from something other than a bottle. He says nothing and once again just settles to accept that what is done is done, and the mirror will now only be a thing of the past.

At being asked if he was hungry, his mouth immediately  waters and he perks up. “Yes. Yes yes I am very hungry. heh.” He’s distracted momentarily from his worries, now peering over at Nortom and curious to see what he may possibly be looking for to make.

“O-oh, sure.” Oh boy, question time. These sort of things could go either way, but Rizzrack can’t find any reason for this discussion to go negatively. After all, it’s not only his hunger he hopes to satiate. His curiosity had desires as well, and he hopes to learn of some more things to answer his questions. Taking that as a cue, Rizzrack places the cup back down upon the counter and walks after Nortrom.

“So! Interrogation time…” he claps his hands together, the gloves making a muffled and dusty slap. “Ask anything you want, just don’t go Good Guard Bad Guard on me, hehheh.”

Nortrom’s odd gait does not escape his notice.

Nortromthesilencer

“Heh, right. It’s more the fact that I can’t remember any of the events you spoke of yesterday,” Kicking aside the rug at the end of the hallway, Nortrom reveals a large wooden hatch with an iron ring fit into the floor. He pulls it open, both the hatch and him making pained sounds, and descends the steps. Even with how dark it was in the storage, the Silencer didn’t bother to light the torch scone as he knew exactly where he left the meat hanging, a large leg of venison, and also a crate that was mostly empty of vegetables. He threw the leg on top of the crate and took the whole thing in one lift, again wincing in pain as he did so, and walked back up the stone steps.

“You said I was child? How did you know it was me in the first place? Did I have any recollection of my current life, or was I fully regressed back?” It was awkward walking with such a large bundle in arm, but he managed to make it to the kitchen and plop the whole thing down on the counter. A cutting board and large knife were also set aside, and soon he was butchering the meat. (May I not that Nortrom didn’t know a damned thing about proper butchering and only cut based on his hunting experience from years of living alone. He was sure any professional chef would smack him upside the head for improper technique and ruining such fresh cuts of meat with his awkward angles and poor separation.)

“Though, all in all, you did get me back here. What the hell is with things recently and you being stuck dragging me back home?” He forced an awkward laugh, still hacking away at the deer leg.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack nods and waits at the top of the entrance, peering down into the darkness. He’s fine not following all the way through.

“Yes. I didn’t know it was you at first. You were polite, well-mannered, I can say I was impressed! I can’t say I agree with all of that resulting in you being timid and fearful. You had mentioned the Hazhadal Barrens and then I noticed you look like a, well, young version of you. It just added up.” He rambles on as the Silencer returns and heads back to the kitchen. The small-keen continues to trail after him. “I could actually be fooled into believing I somehow ended up in the past. You had no idea about your future self. Heh, in fact, when I tried to tell you, it was too much and you freaked out on me.” Rizzrack shrugs. “I can’t really blame you for that reaction. You had a terrible day getting kidnapped and beaten up…” Rizzrack wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to go further into detail with that event. Even just thinking about it brought about feelings of anger. He’s practically seeing red.

Wait a second.

Instead of joining Nortrom in a bout of awkward chuckles, Rizzrack is silent. He takes off his glove carefully. He stares at the man’s back while he cuts away. There are specks of red on the fabric that congregates just below his shoulders. He reaches up as high as he can and lightly  presses his hand to Nortrom’s back. Please don’t be blood.

Nortromthesilencer

Still listening but not saying anything as he concentrated on not cutting himself, Nortrom nodded. A few nice steaks later, the man is about to turn around when he suddenly feels pressure against the recently torn skin of his back and yelps, jumping with a hiss from both being startled and in pain. Whipping around to look at what had just happened, he spies the small keen and exhales with a dramatic huff, “What the hell are you doing?!?” The anger subsides into a slumped sigh, and huffilly the man grabs two large steaks and takes them to the stove top. “I said I’m fine. It will heal, and I’ll change the bandages out in a bit.”

He didn’t enjoy the intrusion, or the method Rizzrack used to confirm his suspicions. going back and forth to throw random vegetables on the stove top grill as well, the man growls. “Fine, look, I’ll level with you here: This is twice now you’ve been privy to information about me and my past that I don’t exactly share with others,” He hovered a hand over the grill to check the temperatures then went back to set out some plates, “I’m none too pleased with that fact.”

Nortrom pushed the crate to the end of the counter, wiping down where it was with a cloth. Resting his elbows on the table in a leaning position, chin on his hands, the man sighed again. His eyes trailed from the stove to Rizzrack, efforts to hide his anxiety and what went on while Rizzrack was sleeping, gone.

“My superiors were not pleased that the mirror was broken. It was only natural that I be disciplined for such a failure. My mission was the bring back the artifact in tact. I did not. It’s nothing to worry about and dealt with.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack stepped back, honestly having expected to be punted after it became apparent there was quite an injury under there. “I suspected you’re hiding something! I want to know what happened. Who hurt you?” His tone was firm and demanding and unwavering. He felt completely entitled to know.

The keen repositions himself, moving to the opposite side of Nortrom now, attempting to get face to face with him and still demanding to know.

Stern expression becomes concerned. “Just because of that? But it wasn’t your fault! You told them I broke it, right? Then they should have been understanding!” He huffs and clenches his hands into fists at his sides. “This isn’t dealt with at all. In fact I should be dealing with it! I should go there and give them a piece of my mind, that’s what I should do.” He grumbles, unaware of how ridiculous he sounds.

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t be absurd.” He pulled the meat from the rack, cutting it open to check. It was bloody and pink in the middle, just how he liked it. Not knowing if Rizzrack liked his steaks this rare or not, he plated them anyways.

“It’s completely my fault, and foolish to think I don’t deserve some form of disciplinary action for failing at my duties. I mishandled the artifact, leading to it’s activation. There is no one to blame here by myself.”

Nortorm grabbed each plate and went to the table, placing them down. A large venison steak with roasted vegis awaited the pair.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack finds it fruitless getting anywhere with Nortrom on this subject and settles with dropping it. What a shame. He opens his mouth to begin another conversation, but he becomes distracted watching Nortrom carry two plates to the table with the most delicious looking cuts of meat he’s seen in ages.

Hungry.

SO HUNGRY.

He walks over to one of the plates set down and looks to Nortrom as if to confirm that one was for him. Yes. Gloves are set on the table and he grasps the portion of meat with his hands and quite greedily begins to tear into it. He’s not even sitting. No time to sit, only time to eat. He gets more ravenous, forgetting whatever manners he may have as he bites off as much as he can without choking.

“Mmffmf hnk yu. mmfff.” He finishes his mouthful. “I haven’t had anything this good in who knows how long!” Easy to say when one lives off insects, fish and the occasional fowl. Another bite of meat is taken, and the veggies are continued to be left ignored.

Nortromthesilencer

While the man raises a brow at Rizzrack’s ravenous display, he isn’t put off by it and instead cuts himself a few large pieces and also enjoys finally eating something of substance.

“Good? I heated meat. Most people would call my cooking abysmal, so I admit I’m now curious as to what the hell you normally eat.” It couldn’t be much if this randomly charred pile of roots and meat counted as ‘good’ by any standard but his own.

Feeling it best not to disturb the keen as he eats, Nortrom is content in silently devouring his own plate and glass of water. Time passes with neither saying a word, the only sound is of them chewing and tearing away. After feeling full and taking the final mouthful of water from his glass, Nortrom sets it down with a loud and content sigh before looking once more at the keen, more seriously this time.

“I’m hoping you won’t go and speak of certain things to others that you may have seen or heard of about me, Rizzrack. Given the fact you’ve been painted a very jaded and incomplete picture, I’ll answer your questions, but it’s not because I feel any sort of kinship here. It’s because I don’t want you getting the wrong impression about things.”

Rizzrack

The meat soon vanished into the small-keen. Rizzrack picks around at the left over veggies on his plate, inspecting them. Deeming only SOME of them to be suitable for consumption, he decides to eat just one. If only to not be rude. He’s quite full now.

Chewing the last mouthful, he rests his elbows upon the table and clasps his fingers together to give his chin something softer than wood to rest on. “Do you think I’m that kind of person?” He pauses, remembering not too long ago he made it almost a routine to put up signs around the local town that slandered the Silencer. “I mean, whatever sort of things I did say were obviously not true.” He takes a few seconds to slip his gloves back on before returning back to his previous pose. “How was I supposed to know this… Fold… was responsible for such terrible acts?” His brows rise as he remembers. “By the way, did you get that locket to its intended recipient?” One hand moves to prop his cheek. “I hope so. I… I really thought you were just looting the bodies. I know now though, and I think I can say I don’t like The Fold either.”

Nortromthesilencer

Fingers tapping on the edge of the table, Nortrom frowns. “I doubt you share what transpired at Augury Bay with any real detail with most, as it wasn’t a pleasant time for you. I will say most of my life fits that theme, and would still appreciate it kept to yourself.” The man reclined in his seat, folding his arms behind his head. Pressure being put on his back, he flinched, leaning back forward almost immediately. That was a bad move that also alerted him to the fact that bandages would have to be swapped soon, as his shirt was getting ruined.

“Mmhm. Unfortunately when he pried the locket open, the picture inside was destroyed, but the sentiment of the piece remained. What ill fated timing for her to visit during– well. It’s too late to ruminate on that. What happened, happened. As for the Fold, do not think me innocent either. My role is a soldier and sort of inquisitor: I fight. I kill. I interrogate. I torture. Though, I can at least say I have not slaughtered a village merely for being neutral in the conflict,” He chuckled, as despite the dark occurrence there was a morbid humour in it to the Silencer that he doubted Rizzrack would share, “I was bred, in all technicalities, to commit genocide.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack gives a questioning nod of agreement. He did at first, way back when he sought help and comfort. Bits and pieces of events dressed with tears as he struggled to share his horrors. Of course, the first few merely attempted to correct his accounts into a different narrative. Outside of his own kind, others merely pitied him, seeing him as a confused and traumatized victim of war like many others. Over time his attempts at telling the whole story grew shorter and shorter, until eventually it only became a single sentence summary he’d blurt out before proceeding with a cutting spree. He nods firmly now. The small-keen deems himself a better audience than those he hoped would listen to himself. Nortrom should count himself lucky.

A disappointed sigh, but the locket will be treasured regardless he supposes. Rizzrack continues to  listen, his brows furrow and he shifts on the spot uncomfortably as Nortrom lists off his duties. It’s not something he agrees with, but because of recent events, a new light is shed on conflict and war to the keen that he was unfamiliar with. It’s not exactly black and white, but at least Rizzrack knows he prefers the lesser of two evils. It’s Nortrom’s last statement that gets the keen to finally speak up.

“You’re telling me your purpose is to kill? Nortrom, the Timbersuit is made to kill. You can see it in the design. Are you telling me you were born with a glaive and shield in your hands?”

Nortromthesilencer

The comparison makes the Silencer laugh, albeit lightly. He shakes his head, “Yes and no… It was ordained well before I was born what my duty would be; Two-hundred years before hand actually. I was crafted, made over seven generations of selective breeding according to a prophesied pedigree to be the ‘worlds greatest battle mage’,” He scoffs as he speaks the title, finding his this whole breeding thing to be ridiculous, “A creation to smite the Fold. From birth I was trained to this task. Alas, it was not a mage they got, but a child without a drop of magic. You can imagine how upset that made many.” With a sigh Nortrom shakes his head and lets it droop over-dramatically.

Lifting himself back the man stood, clearing the plates as he still spoke,  “You, on the other hand, are a clean slate. While your past may have taken much from you, your future is unsure as you have yet to create it. Any place, any journey, any task: Fate is yours to command.  But I? Just as your timber suit is a tool for your destruction, as I am theirs. My life has been decided for me, and because I owe my order everything: They created me, raised me, educated me, fed me, clothed me, and gave me purpose; I am forever in their debt.”

A dipped in sink like wash basin lies set into the back counter, and Nortrom places the dishes within and grabs a nearby cloth, washing them down. He sighs, the cold water raising goose-bumps on his arms while the rippling, sloshing, feel of the suds calm his nerves from speaking about all of this.

“So yes, in a way I was born with a glaive in my hands and blood on my boots.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack listens, recalling at the river how the young Nortrom took it much more negatively than expected when the keen laughed at the thought of him casting a spell. Imagine, being held to such high expectations and being essentially turning out to be a dud to everyone? “Well they shouldn’t have taken their disappointment out on you. Still, looks like you showed them, hm? I bet you left them…. speechless!” The small-keen laughs at his own shitty joke before quieting back down. Rizzrack doesn’t know very much of the arcane world, but he does know Silencer’s ability is a bit uncanny. They must’ve felt like complete fools for punishing the poor boy.

He moves from his leaning spot over to the chair Nortrom left and decides to keep the seat in use, preferring to stay near the man but not in his way as he washed. “Nortrom, have you ever thought that maybe… I dunno..” He rests his arm horizontally on the table and props his head with his hand. “I’m guessing that to you, they’re the closest thing you’d call family, right? Parents do all those things, but do they expect you to pay them back? No! They want you to grow and follow your own dreams! My family made harvesters, I wanted to make toys. Did they stop me? Maybe my uncle b-but that’s not the point. The point is, you don’t owe them anything. You just think you need them.” Rizzrack crosses his arms and nods, feeling confident with his points. “As a matter of fact, I think it’s quite the opposite. They need you!”

Rizzrack begins to get a little too excited, having transitioned from sitting to standing on his little improvised soap-box. “Demand better treatment! Better pay! Compensation for the pain they’ve put you through! Or else you’ll leave them, THEN they’ll be sorry!”

Nortromthesilencer

“Your passion is admirable, but no, a parent has a child to build a family. I was ‘crafted’ not birthed, the intent was never to be more than a tool of war. Besides, it’s not as bad as that all sounds, I actually enjoy many part of my job.”

One final pass to dry the dishes, and Nortrom leans against the counter facing Rizzrack, “And I do get paid well. You see this? How I live?” He extends an arm, paying notice to how barren and plain his home was, “I choose to live this way because I enjoy the simplicity. Financially, I’m quite well off, even if my home doesn’t display luxury.” It was true; Nortrom had been paid since graduation, and never spent the money on much. Instead he saved, hording it in a sense, but not because of greed but due to the exact opposite: There was nothing he wanted to splurge on. Now he was one of the richest men in Aeol Drias yet none would know based on how he acted or lived.

“There’s also something quite therapeutic about interrogating someone. After a long, stressful, week of battle, the control you have during torture is… cathartic.” A morbid smirk painted his lips. Soon he shook it away, not wanting to drag Rizzrack into his other hidden side, the side of sadism.

Nortrom shoved himself off the counter and decided to finally do something about these bandages that weren’t stopping much. He stepped out toward the hall, pulling his shirt off and revealing the wraps around his torso and the myriad of scars peeking out from under them. While the bleeding strips were new, many marks on his skin told much older tales, some painful, some memorable, all now permanent reminders etched into himself.

“Wait, you said you wanted to be a toy maker? Is that why you wanted to work on those spinning things before? Hm, what a contrast, from making toys to the timbersuit!”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack looks unsettled by the grin. He gives a nervous chuckle before sitting back down and passing it off as Nortrom’s strange sense of humor. He watches the man step off, observes him taking off the shirt and takes notice of the stained wraps. He winces at the sight. He himself has scars, but are mere nicks in comparison to Nortrom’s. Those fresh lines will just be another layer upon his body.

Rizzrack turns away and focuses on his fidgeting hands at the table while he waits for the Silencer to tend to himself. He only pipes up again after Nortrom speaks. “Y-yes, I did.” He confirms bashfully. His mouth does a poor job resisting the urge to form a smile. “Heh, cutting things is what I do, but not the only thing I do! I’ve gotta make gold somehow.” He returns to resting his chin on the table while his feet swing about idly. “It is. I honestly never would have expected it. My Uncle tried to teach me to design and build machines, just like him. It never really felt like my thing. My creations were far from practical. The first prototype I designed was deemed a failure for having ‘too many legs and not enough wheels.’ Needless to say, my plans were left to gather dust in the workshop, but as you can see I eventually made use of them.” He adds as he waves a hand to where the Timbersuit is parked outside.

The small-keen sighs as solemn thoughts approach. “Every day I wonder what things would be like if I had-” he flinches as the rest of the words stop at the edge of his tongue. It’s a thought that plagues him, that eats away at his strength and power and renders him to feeling at fault. It’s a thought that hurts no matter how he looks at it, and the only way to avoid the pain is to avoid the thought.

But perhaps now he can face it? Rizzrack attempts to start over, but chokes on the same word. “I-I’m sorry I… Nevermind. I  almost let myself get off track.” He sits silently, but his mind refuses to drop the topic. “Nortrom, do  you ever wish you could change the past? If you could, would you? If you knew you could make everything better?”

Nortromthesilencer

Rizzrack’s own fumbling words do not go unnoticed. Going down the hall, Nortrom too falls into silence as the keen fights for what to say, grabbing a small box from the closet and a couple of wash-clothes before returning. Then, Rizzrack tries once more but this time with a question. Nortrom hums, brows furrowed in thought. Would he?

“I– There are not many things I would attempt to change. What I’ve been through, it’s made me who I am. It’s shaped me, my personality, my skills, and more. To take that all back would be to erase myself entirely.” He sighs, carefully unwrapping himself and trying to not get blood on any of his furniture. Part way through Nortrom stops and stares at the ground, lost in thought. “Though, there is one thing I… No. To even think on it is pointless. What’s done is done, and dwelling on the past with hopeless potentials will only make it harder to move on.”

Even saying that, he wasn’t completely convinced. His expression remained lost, somewhere else, contemplating what could have been. The one person who needed saving most of all, the one person he would want to help above all else–

Nortrom snapped out of his trance when he felt the bandage loop come loose the rest of the way and fall on to the floor. He swore under his breath, bundling it up and making sure no stains were left on his floor. He carefully set them beside the washbasin, dipping a cloth in before reaching awkwardly to pat his back clean.

“The one thing I regret most of all, that will never leave my memory no matter how long time goes on, is not mine to change. Even if I could go back, there is no guarantee I could even right things. For all I know, my interference would only make it worse in the end.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack remains silent at the table as he dwells on Nortrom’s views. Why wouldn’t anyone go back to undo all the wrong that’s been done? Or to erase everything bad that’s happened? If the keen sacrificing his present self meant his family… everyone could still be alive to this day, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Nortrom wouldn’t go back for any benefit of himself, but he feels a hesitance he can empathize with when Nortrom considered it for another’s sake.

The keen’s restless legs fall still as he considers his next question. He has a hunch about who this person is, all based on Nortrom’s spilled secrets during his vulnerable stupor. He thinks it over, running various versions of questions through his head to see if Nortrom’s opinion stands firm, rewording them more and more until it comes out quite suddenly and blunt. “Do you think it’d be better if you never knew him, like how you never knew your parents?”

Nortromthesilencer

A few winces here, a grunt there, and some very strange stretches in an attempt to reach all of the wounds, but Nortrom manages to clean himself up for the most part. From the box, a first aid kit of sorts, he pulls out some disinfectant and gauze. In the middle of reaching around again to apply the disinfectant, he’s forced to stop by the Keen’s question. Nortrom makes a small, uncomfortable sound as he places the disinfectant back down.

“That–” He freezes mid breath, eyes darting to the side, uncomfortable, unsure. Would he be better off? “He… He caused a lot of issues, for me, for everyone. We were raised the same, expected to be the same, and hidden from one another all the same but he took things very differently. I… I regret not being able to help him when he needed it most. Had I never met him though? Had he never existed?”

Nortrom sighed, this was quite hard to talk about. His voice was losing it’s rough edge, almost cracking at the ends of his sentences while he spoke. Feeling a need to fiddle as his nerves always called for, he turned to the gauze and started to wrap himself back up while speaking, softer than before, “If I never met him, then hundreds, perhaps thousands would still be alive. Icarus would not have been driven to madness. My friends would not have been tortured. I would not have b–” Another pause, and a low hum. “I do not know the answer to that, Rizzrack. Through him I learnt more about myself than I ever had known before. Through him I finally knew family. The pain he caused was enormous, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss him. I’m sorry, I just can’t answer that.”

By this point his voice was wavering, each word taking astounding effort to form and say. Nortrom takes a shaky breath, and holds his jaw tightly clenched. He knew that to speak now would carry the risk of emotions overflowing, and that wasn’t something he wanted to show. Concentrating completely now on patching himself up, the Silencer remained silent once more.

Rizzrack

For the first time since Nortrom began tending to his wounds, Rizzrack looks to him, feeling his pain in a way. He doesn’t think he’ll ever understand why the man could love or care deeply for someone who hurt him so much. He can see Nortrom himself doesn’t understand as well. The keen is feeling quite sorry for bringing that up for him, having never seen the Silencer this open, this exposed. He sees something in common between them, and he pities him for it.

“We don’t have to talk about this anymore. You’ve shared a lot.” Though with everything shared between them, he can feel neither of them have gotten closer to the answers they seek. If Rizzrack must find some good to come from this however. “Hmm, you know, I’ve always felt alone. I never thought I’d meet someone who could understand me. It doesn’t seem to be the case anymore.” It’s comforting. It’s genuine. It’s not forced pity or guilty sympathy. He’s hopeful. “I hope you don’t feel so alone.”

Less and less did Rizzrack see Nortrom as some irritable hermit. He sees himself, he sees them both, hiding beneath their bubble, their armor, avoiding what they fear to face while retaining their facade of stoicism or bravery.

Nortromthesilencer

A tinge of guilt overcomes Nortrom when he hears this, and with his back turned to the keen, hands on the counter, he huffs. “I only shared such things with you so you could get a more complete picture and not jump to conclusions. Had you not been forced to encounter my ‘past state’, we would never be having this discussion.”

The box is arranged back and closed up, ready to be put away once more. Taking it in arm, he walks again down the hall, depositing the crate into the closet and closing the door. The force is harder than intended, the wood slamming as it latched, his nerves obviously on edge. With his hands running through his hair and massaging his scalp, Nortrom returns and stands at the room’s edge.

“People get close to me for only three reasons: To harm me, to use me, or to claim ownership of me. Anyone I get to know will either fall into this category, or get harmed in some way by being in my proximity. Don’t take personal offence, Rizzrack, but I’m not exactly ready to take any chances,” Sliding his arms down, he crosses them and leans against the nearest wall. The Silencer carries very little of his stern resolve normally seen, tired both emotionally and physically, in pain, and vulnerable. He’s conflicted, still not sure where Rizzrack actually stands with himself, or he to the keen, “It’s actually unfortunate that you had to be dragged into my past as such, though I feel this is my fault. I tried to offer you a different insight into your own issues, and in doing so opened the doors for further interactions. I really need to learn to keep to myself more.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack sighs. Perhaps that’s the case with Nortrom, but he can’t help but feel that maybe it all happened for a reason?

He flinches at the sound, and his thoughts turn. No Rizzrack. You know better, you know it’s not the case.

A desire to reach out to the man is snuffed by guilt and regret. Because perhaps still, if it weren’t for his meddling, the man wouldn’t have gotten hurt more.

“It’s fine, Nortrom.” He finally decides to hop down from the seat, turning quickly to wipe the wood of any dust he may have left behind. “If not your darkness, then it’s mine. Either way I’ll have to face unpleasant things. I”m not sure if I should thank you as I didn’t want to, but I guess it was necessary.” Adjusting his gloves he walks over to Nortrom. “Now not to be rude, but I think it’s best if I get going. You really look like you need your space. I think I need mine too.” His hand reaches out for a shake. “Thanks for the food, sorry for the trouble.”

Nortromthesilencer

He forces a smile, bending down slightly as to reach the hand offered. Taking it in a firm shake, Nortrom nods, “I believe we do. There was no trouble, Rizzrack. You take care, and perhaps more will come of this at a later date.”

There was a certain glimmer of hope that maybe Rizzrack would prove his track record wrong. The keen had certainly faced his share of hardship, and now knew much more about him than most. In all of his years, only one person came to mind as not following suit and causing him further suffering, and he would be amazed, and relieved, if that happened once more.

Standing back up straight and brushing the front of his chest, Nortrom yawns. Yup. Still tired, despite sleeping in.

“Safe travels, Rizzrack.”

Rizzrack

With a nod and a single wave, the small-keen turns, ensuring this time that yes the bucket helm is on his head before he steps out the door. The sound of the suit starting up can be heard, and after a minute of consistent rumbling, crunching steps can be heard taking off, and the noise grows distant. All that remains is the wafting scent of exhaust in the air, and tracked dirt within Nortrom’s home.

The Timbersuit wanders back towards the direction of the river. Rizzrack once again looks bothered, the stains of blood on the suit’s hull reminding him of the people he murde-..

He mutters to himself. He only rid the world of monsters. It’s one less thing to worry about. One less thing to plague his thoughts. There’s other, more important things to worry about, such as…

“Caw…caw…”

His thoughts are interrupted and his eyes glance to a broken and abandoned wooden fence, eyeing the group of crows gathered upon it. He swallows dryly.

...Such as finding a new, even further region to travel to.

He needs to get away from here before something worse comes.

[lazywriter7]

shades of happiness

Summary: Part of the journey is the end.

Steve Rogers considers his many possible endings, and chooses one.

Warnings for major character death

It’s always been the shade that caught his eye the quickest.

In a set of pastels, blocky and chalky-soft and colour staining on his fingertips – always the pop of red towards the end that his gaze drifted to, where it lingered. The colour that could change the very way you looked at things – like when sunrise lit the tenements of Brooklyn in rose-gold-cinnabar, gleaming off bicycle pedals that used to look dusty and camouflaging the cracks in sour-cream building walls, clothes left over on the lines at night flapping gently in the wind – like filtering it all through this shade could alter reality itself.

(Reality, that makes one of six–)

Steve had a weakness for it, for red. Any time one of his paintings looked a touch too dull, like the colours had been leached of their potency, like everything was too drab, too still (too dead), his brush strayed towards the red tube of paint. A dab here and a highlight there, and it was like the painting became a new creature – vivid and kinetic, the richness of the hue enhancing the brighter shades of yellow and orange, adding depth into the darkness of browns and blacks. It was always on his palette, he couldn’t imagine picturing a world without…

“Steve.”

He shook with it, the startlement. He blinked his eyes. Peggy smiled at him from across the diner booth, chestnut-hair shining in the light and victory suit as perfectly pressed as when he’d first met her. “You were gone there, for a while.”

“I was.” Steve said, and there was something about that that wasn’t quite right. Spoken too lightly, frivolous and easy. Lacking the import that words like that deserved.

But Peggy seemed to pay that no note and only smiled wider. Steve was braced for the breathstopping, jawbreaking clench of longing the sight brought – the corners of her quirked lips, the dip of her lower lip where the skin always seemed to be chapped and flaking. The carmine slash of her lipstick.

Red.

“Nice place, isn’t it.” Peggy tilted her chin, dark eyes flitting over the light fixtures and checkered décor.

It’s very seventies, Steve wanted to say – the foreignness of the thought prickled at him. It was… it was out of place, in this picture-perfect scene, out of time, because he’d never have known to have the thought if not for pop-culture and watching movies about the seventies in the futu–

So something else escaped his tongue instead. “Sometimes, I’d think about if I was just imagining it too… too sunny. Too bright. What would’ve happened if I’d never gone down in the ice.”

A shining image, through rose-tinted glasses. There was something about that too, which rattled at the shadowy edges of his mind; tinted glasses, tinted glasses and dark eyes–

(Dark eyes, bare for the taking. “Liar.”)

“Was the end of war. Couldn’t have been all sunshine and roses.” And for all of his heartache, he’d gotten to skip that part, hadn’t he? Hadn’t had to live with the aftermath. Bombed out streets, diners that were looking a lot emptier, hollow smiles and haunted eyes, empty chairs at the kitchen table.

Except he did live with it, just not at that particular time. Steve cleared his throat, dry to the bone, something like ash lingering at the back of his tongue. “I had to… had to carry on, for five years after. At times, it was harder than the ice.”

But Peggy only smiled on, uncharacteristic, shine of white teeth like something lacquered over. “Have some water, dear, you sound parched.”

The light seeping through the windows caught in his eyes, near-blinding. Steve raised a hand to shield them – was the sun setting? “Must’ve been hard for you to go through that all alone, after the war. Don’t know how you managed it.”

When he’d blinked the spots out of his eyes, the diner seemed faded – though still bathed in coloured light. Peggy had stopped smiling, though her eyes were still kind. “I wasn’t alone.”

Of course. For all that it had gotten dimmer, the world also seemed clearer at the edges. Like a hazy picture beginning to resolve, showing all its grainy details, cracks in the wall. Steve breathed in the stillness, breathed in the dust. “How’re the husband and kids, Peg?”

Peggy blinked, dark lashes batting through the stillness. She wasn’t wearing a ring. “Steve, I don’t know what you’re–

No, the sun wasn’t setting. But the dimmed light had gone awfully red, casting shadows across Peggy’s cheekbones, creeping across the diner table that was somehow too solid and yet not enough under Steve’s numb fingers. “Peg.”

“They’re.” Peggy hitched a breath. Cast in unearthly scarlet or no, she still looked like Steve’s best dream. “It hasn’t happened yet, but… they’ll be. They’re.. doing really well.”

Behind her glossy locks, Steve could see the diner fracturing – jagged shards of light cleaving through the vinyl booths, checkered floor, white tiling on the counters. His breath was shaking along with it, sucked clean out of his chest like an asthma attack of old, fingers digging into the table– “I never stopped loving you.”

“Me neither, darling.” The words sounded thick in her throat, but Peggy wasn’t crying. She leaned forward, cupped her warm palms over his whitening fingers, “Always.”

Then why. Why did they have to, why couldn’t this be–

(“I needed you. You said ‘together’, and–”)

“You’ve worked so hard. Been… unmeasurably brave, done so much.” Peggy’s eyes glistened with the warmth of a thousand setting suns. “I couldn’t be prouder.”

“I could… I could do it again. Here.” Work at it, at belonging to this time again. It couldn’t hurt as much, couldn’t claw at his throat with the hollowness of it more than the first go around. “With you.”

“Oh, but sweetheart.” Peggy raised soft fingers, leaned enough to ghost them over the back of Steve’s neck, catching at the flyway strands of a haircut she’d never gotten to see. “You’ve already done your time someplace else.”

The light blazed, and the world winked out.

~

 The air pumped through his chest, hard and heavy, throat dry with gasping. His hands were braced on his thighs, view obscured to the gap between them – sweat-slick fringe whipping in his eyes when he bent over and tried to regain his breath.

“Sloppy, sloppy.” A voice teased – Steve jerked his head upright and saw red.

Not the long, straightened sheet of locks he’d gotten used to during D.C.; not even the braid she’d started putting her hair in in the past five years when her roots started growing out. No, Natasha’s hair was scarlet, violently red – and done in the short bob he’d grown to know when they’d first met, and when they trained the Avengers at the compound together.

Which was where they were now, maybe – there were mats under their feet and the training equipment around them looked halfway familiar; somewhere in between what had been in the SHIELD barracks and the Avengers facility gym. On the wall behind, off to the corner of his vision: the edge of a logo set into the plaster gleamed metallic under the afternoon light.

(“That’s what we do, right? The A-vengers? We lost, we–”

“You giving up on the fight, Rogers?” Natasha stretched her hands above her head, jet black leather-and-Kevlar creaking with the motion; rolled the joints in her neck, hair clinging to sweaty skin. “Misery of existence getting you down?”

It was a sharp, sharp jab – Steve heaved a breath and laughed with it, laughed till his eyes were faintly blurring and his chest hurt. Straightened up, meeting twinkling green eyes that he’d thought once upon a time, were cold and unreadable. “You’re not getting off that easy, Romanov.”

“You sure?” Natasha mocked, and the affection of it was raw salt and soothing balm all at once. “You’ve been looking pretty bummed lately. Maybe you should go back to bed, rest those old, creaky joints.”

Steve’s feet were moving – he’d fallen into the dance, the pattern, unaware of even making the first step, the two of them circling each other around the ring. How many times had they done this? He should’ve… he should’ve kept count.

“It’s always the same with you millennials. Life is hard, it always is.” Steve’s gloves creaked as he flexed his fingers, boots gleaming cherry red just at the edge of his sight. The old uniform – now that was a different touch. “Don’t know about you, but I’ve got plenty in my life to get outta bed for.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard this one before.” Natasha didn’t roll her eyes, the gesture far too pedestrian for her – and Steve knew that, now and during the course of… ten? Ten years. “The future isn’t really that bad, the internet is such a useful resource, do you know how dangerous polio used to be–”

Oh, but it was far more nuanced than that. In moments, that yawned long and crushingly heavy, the future seemed nothing more than a wasteland. And yet, here was a friend grinning at him from across the ring, and his breath shivered in his chest with the realisation, a truth sitting in his chest too simple to ignore – “I’ve got more than that.”

(“You trust me, right?”)

Natasha stilled. Behind the shield of banter, the fond, biting grin – Steve could see now that her eyes were too bright. Gleaming with a layer of something liquid and unspilled, eyes reddening – streaks crawling in from the corners, overwhelming the whites. “Yeah?”

“Chatting with Mr. Patel at the bodega three miles away. Helping Wanda control her powers.” It was like feeling the dark give way, lightness stealing in – till his vision was wrecked with it, till keeping his eyes closed was no longer an option. “Morning runs with Sam. Sparring with you.”

Natasha’s smile settled into the crinkles of her eyes, a colourless drop leaking out the side and vanishing into the curve of her cheek. Her voice was ever-so-slightly hoarse, and in that moment more tempting than any Black Widow act she’d ever put on. “You can keep this, if you want. Keep all of this.”

The Avengers logo blazed on the wall behind her head, the corner of the A obscured by her curls. It felt, for a second, that his knees might give way after all.

Steve stayed standing. “You can’t.”

There was something trickling down from Natasha’s temple – a thin line of scarlet mingling with the trail of tears. He didn’t know how close to the truth it was. He’d never gotten to see the bod– he’d never gotten to see her go. His voice cracked with the thought, a cleaving strike right down the middle, “I can’t do this without you.”

“Steve.” There was a gentleness about her, a sense of care he’d never deserved. “I did what I had to so you could.”

“Is that…” No matter how many times he cleared his throat, the rawness wouldn’t subside. An open wound, every word flecked with the pain of it, “Is that why you…”

“You already know why.” Did he? The nose of the Valkyrie, heading straight for the Arctic shelf. Natasha’s mouth curled slightly, an affectionate smirk as if she could read his mind. “Serves you right for setting such a good example, hmm?”

“Besides, I had a job.” She said the words like she said so much else, point blank and matter-of-fact – because that was who she was. Not the masks, or the deception, or even the fights. She was duty, and a commitment to it unflinchingly made. “And a debt to repay.”

A debt to repay. The words struck something, grasped for something – past the skin of his chest and aching muscle, through the defences of his ribs and right down to his unenhanced, beating heart.

(Not red this time, no. Hearts were blue, blue and white like the hottest part of a flame; heat and weight slammed down into his palm, metal burning a circle into the skin.

“Liar.”

Burning regret, and a debt that couldn’t be cast away.)

Something slipped into his hand, warm fingers working their way into his own gaps. Steve squeezed against the pressure, breath escaping just a fraction more lightly. “Did it hurt when you went down?”

“No.” Natasha said simply, and the press of her hand against his was not a lie. Reddened as they were, her eyes still looked peaceful. “It was nice. Like a warmth in my chest, of… getting to throw aside all that my life had been used for, and choosing what it was going to mean.”

It means everything. A hero, when it counted the most for everyone. A friend, when it counted the most for me.

“It didn’t feel like that for me, the ice.” The world was hazing around them again, soft and crimson. His fingers curled in harder, held on tighter. “I knew what I was doing was right, but… it didn’t feel like that.”

“Well then.” Natasha tilted her head one last time, light gleaming off the devastating line of her jaw, eyes teasing like he’d remember her best. “What’re you waiting for?”

A breath, brushing past the stillness. Like conviction finally emerging again, settling into its long-worn shoes.

The world blazed bright. Steve let go.

 ~

 When Steve came back to himself, the universe was in stasis.

It felt like he could see all of it, spanning wide, even though his eyes were only confined to this place, this instant. This battlefield, sprawling on the grounds of a compound he’d once called home.

It was all silent, all still. Ash caught in mid-air, immobile. Weapons thrown and not yet landed. Snarls on unmoving faces, bodies contorted into the fight, friends and enemies all stretching around about him. Frozen in time, and Steve a man out of it.

Something glimmered at the corner of his vision – an exhale fleeted from his lips, a solitary breath among thousands that had been paused midway. The Time Stone shone dully among the gaps of his fingers. But it was only a spark of green amidst a sea of red; the Reality Gem blazing next to it, eye-searing.

Steve could not move his fingers. They twitched a little, but stayed firmly wrapped around, entwined through the scratched-up, faded metal fingers of an Iron Man gauntlet.

Steve lifted his chin, and stared at Tony’s face, frozen inches away from his.

(It had been a split-second decision. Lying on his back, holding a broken shield, tasting the blood through his teeth; catching a glimpse of Tony’s face through the debris, as he looked at someone out of view – at Strange, maybe.

Catching a glimpse of that resolution stealing over his face, grim and ruinously beautiful. Watching the tussle between him and the Mad Titan, watching as Tony Stark outsmarted and outgritted a foe yet again.

“I…am…”

Steve’s fingers twitched. A magnetic pull, a phantom sensation of lifting something that had never felt this light before.

Mjolnir plowed through the air, smashing into gold and titanium-alloy. Tony’s face contorted in agony, breath stuttering – but it served the purpose, the weight of the hammer pulling him forward several, crucial inches. Steve could feel the dirt under his fingernails, the watery shake of his arms as he pulled himself up one last time – dragged his knees over the ground to close the gap. Reached out, and this time he wasn’t too far away. This time, he caught the hand and held it tight.

Please, he thought, fingers clammy against warm metal, Tony’s eyes wide and so close and ash dusty over those lashes, please, as his skin brushed against the warmth of the gems, scorching points of contact.

Please, as the world froze and blazed red, and reality splintered with possibilities in his mind.)

 That had been a second ago.

“Thank you.” He whispered, sound barely escaping the ash, the hoarseness, the throttling gratitude. The Reality Gem shone on like a constant, Time a quiet counterpoint to the side.

He had the time now, so he took it. Several selfish seconds, of staring at the brown eyes so inescapably close to his, the ones that had spat contempt at him and offered a home to him and widened in betrayal at his actions. Steve memorised it all, like a painting he’d never be able to put to page – the blood-crusted mess of Tony’s hair, the silver in his eyebrows, the gaunt hollows of his cheeks, the resolute tilt of his chin. The brightness of him, the tenacity, the inability to walk away – like red still lingering in the sky long after the sun had gone down.

Steve’s breath felt thick in his throat, blood and air all congealed to one. With the hand not trapped in the gauntlet, burning over the Stones – he brushed his knuckles over the warm, hard gristle of Tony’s jaw. A stolen touch, the last thing Steve would ever take from him again.

(“I will miss you Tony.”)

“Please.” Reality flickered around them. The Gem glowed, nanites stirring under Steve’s palm, like the faintest tickle, a warm breath huffed over skin. They peeled out in layers, withdrawing from Tony’s ashy skin and flowing over Steve’s hand – welcoming streams that trailed static electricity till they encased him from wrist to fingertip.

The Stones followed, five throbbing points settling below his knuckles. They still felt lighter than the phantom weight of an arc reactor, chest-warm and leaden in his palm.

Steve’s was a life mired with regrets. But in this, insular instant – the only thing he regretted was having to let go of Tony’s bare hand.

One snap, and the world came back to life.

  It was like feeling his atoms implode, the burn beginning from the tips of his fingers and scoring past muscle, sinew, nerve – the blood in his veins on fire, working up his arm and charring everything in its path. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, ground rushing up to hit his spine–

“What. What the fuck, no, no, fuck, no, Steve–”

Something gurgled at the back of his throat. Steve stared up at the sky, unseeing – until his vision was filled with something too familiar, hair and face and eyes looking down, so deeply embedded into his psyche that he couldn’t not recognise–

“T..Tony.” There was warmth at the back of his neck, warmth separate from the burn carving through the right side of his chest. Like someone was clasping his neck, bracing it – like Steve’s stolen touch did not matter, because Tony would always give everything freely away.

“I had it, I had him, why would, Steve, Steve–”

Parts of Steve could still feel the serum kicking away, fighting desperately in its last stretches – I can do this all… I can do this –

“Tony, I…I am so sorry.”

Tony’s face stared down, lips clamped down tight like his teeth were biting through the skin on the inside. There were streaks of shining moisture on his cheeks, clear tracks running down the grime. His voice rang like iron. “No. No. Not good enough, Rogers. I don’t accept this, I can’t–”

“What’s her name.” Steve whispered it on a rasping breath, and Tony’s voice broke off. “Your… daughter. Tell me her name.”

“Morgan.” More liquid, welling up at the edges of those eyes, where the laugh lines usually sat – Steve ached to reach up and brush them away.

“Thought.” The next words were unbearably hard to get out, the burn flickering at the hollow of his throat. Steve struggled through it, single-minded, like every asthma attack, every bully’s fist, every bullet and hit that had ever threatened to keep him down and never succeeded. “Thought tha… that was a… fella’s name.”

“We’re rich and eccentric, it works out.” The words flitted out heedlessly, like Tony’s lips were moving and he didn’t particularly care what came out.

We. Once upon a time, that might’ve rung hollow in Steve’s chest, a pang of longing. Now it nestled there, warm and soothing and protected from the burn.

“Steve.” Something hit Steve’s cracked lips, tingling there – if he flicked his tongue out, he might taste water and salt. “You can’t give up like this.”

But I’m not. This wasn’t like losing faith, like walking away in the middle of the journey. This was finally staggering to the summit, and seeing your destination over the horizon. This was adding that final fleck of paint, that dab of red, to make the picture all worth it.

The hold shifted from Steve’s neck to the back of shoulders that were almost insensate, another arm cupping around his waist – till Tony had hauled him right up, and pressed him close, dark hair brushing over the tip of Steve’s nose. His voice in Steve’s ear was barely above a whisper, barely a question. Maybe it wasn’t even meant for him. “Why.”

The reactor dug into Steve’s sternum, a circle of glowing warmth. It felt nice.

The world was falling away, breaths slowing and heart drifting to a stop, and it felt nothing like the ice.

“I was looking for a happy ending.”  

[dolphin-enthusiast]

Can I get a DIU matchup? I'm a cishet female with fluffy brown hair and dark brown-ish eyes. I'm an ambivert leaning towards extrovertedness. I enjoy research and I like new experiences. Sometimes I can be a bit of an ass and I swear like a drunk sailor but I'm a cool person. I'm a massive nerd. I love Star Wars, it's my favorite movie franchise! Speaking of the stars my sign is Gemini sun, Taurus Moon, and Aquarius Rising. I'm a pretty chaotic person to say the least. -🌹

"I'm double majoring in Sociology and Education because I want to be a world cultures teacher. For some reason. I enjoy learning new things and teaching others new things. I like teaching my foreign friends swear words. I speak multiple languages as well. Like... a lot. So I talk with them in English and their native tongue. I can't stand jackasses (*cough* Rohan *cough*) even though I can be one. I'm pretty good at engineering though... Like not bad but not amazing. -🌹

I'm not naive but if someone has the research and I dig a bit myself I can be swayed. It's just a matter of research. I like painting. I have a really... Hot Topic-y galaxy aesthetic. I like it when people tell me I'm wrong so I can debate them. I'm a debater. While I'm usually challenging and tough there are times when I can be gentle and soft. When I was a kid I wanted to discover a new planet so I could teach aliens cuss words. My8yroldassthoughtthatwashilarious. -🌹

God, I'm so emo with my Hot Topic clothes. I have three pets. A bird named Shanty who cusses when I give her the secret code, a rat named Remy, and a fatass orange cat named Garfield. I enjoy humming gently to my pets because they like my babies. I'm thinking of getting a snake but Idk yet. I like music too. Idk if I mentioned before but I believe in aliens due to actual research being found. But idk if they're like us. Someday we will tho. -🌹

I have a tendency to yell "thathurtlikeamotherfucker" all slurred together like that when I hurt myself. But other than that I can be pretty lax. I don't need people to always try to please me to like me. I actually like having people argue with me. I'm generally easygoing and calm. I have a tendency to befriend foreigners and the weirdest fuckers you can imagine. But that's fine. We quirky. So... who do you match me with? -🌹"

At first I would have said Josuke, but I match you with...

4TARO!

I feel like your ambiverted nature would really compliment his introverted one, going as far as to even make him be more outgoing overtime! The fact that you're also a calm and collected person is something that would be appreciated by him. In fact, you'd even be able to calm him down and soothe him on many occasions. He too can sometimes swear like ALOT so there's that. He finds your nerdy side cute and surprise surprise deep down he's also a pretty fucking big nerd! He totally enjoyed the fuck out of the Star Wars franchise if you ask me.

Another thing that he likes at you is your thirst for knowledge and the fact that you also like teaching others stuff, he's all for learning new info and doing research (he likes intellectual activities in general.) I strongly believe that he too speaks many languages and finds it funny that you teach others literal swear words. If you could speak Japanese that would be amazing really, you two would basically be switching through different languages on a daily basis.

He also enjoys debates from time to time (just don't overdo it) and shares your dislike for jackasses even if he himself can be a big one sometimes. He totally has a soft spot for your pets and for watching you spend time with them because honestly he too loves animals alot. I have a strong feeling that he also believes in aliens but ONLY because there's actual research on the subject because he's a facts only man. 10/10 has intellectual pillow talk with you about aliens at 3 am. Overall he likes how creative and imaginative you are and also lowkey digs your emo-ish aesthetic!

[what-the-fuck-is-anime]

This kid is so fucking strong. He know this is going to get him hit, but he tries to hold his father responsible in a world where nobody else has.

This post contains talk of medical abuse, mental illness, and forced hospitalization.

Sending her to the hospital...it was deliberate. His dad must have been so happy to have an excuse to send her to a hospital. Her one outburst of terrible violence will forever overpower any of her claims regarding her husband’s ongoing violent abuse and manipulation. The media will never believe her about the abuse. They will frame her as incoherent, violent, and hysterical. This was all written to be as deliberate and as evil as possible to emphasize the extent to which this child is trapped. His mother returns from the hospital, inevitably not having been believed. And now she never will be, and she knew it, and that was probably why she was trying to call her mom. To try to avoid having the stigma of mental illness. In Japan, the nail that sticks up gets hammered down. Mental illness stigma is much worse there, and the views surrounding mental illness are different than many other places in the world. And now whenever either of them act up, the second most physically powerful man on the planet gets to threaten them with forced hospitalization because the whole world knows his mom went to a psych hospital. He may even claim she caused whatever abuse she tries to get help for. The threat of forced hospitalization is an extremely common abuse tactic. He uses hospitals as a weapon. He uses getting help as a weapon. Now he can beat up his son as much as he wants, and he may never want to go to the hospital because that was the place that took mom, and he may not be able to make the distinction between general hospitals and psychiatric hospitals. “Hospital” was the bad place that mom was forced to go to. And when he came home from the ER, his mother was taken from him. He may suffer he may hide illness he may never speak up about pain because he seems to only be around 5 or 6

WARNING

The purpose of the following is to begin to attempt to begin understanding the plight of Todoroki’s mother in terms of Japanese culture and viewpoints. I researched and highlighted some specific aspects of mental illness and psychiatric care in Japan that may not have been considered or otherwise known by a foreign audience. Most of my sources are in English, and a huge number of them are scientific or otherwise academic in nature, so while they are in no way a one stop shop about Japanese culture so to speak, they are quick notes about what I found interesting and potentially relevant to the situation. The content below this point may be difficult to read, and although I included the warning at the top, this is the part where it may get more difficult beyond this point. If you are sensitive to reading medical abuse or stigma surrounding mental illness, I do not recommend reading further.

While many things are lost in translation in terms of cultural differences, it is my opinion that even slightly understanding some aspects of psychiatric care in Japan as well as the attitude towards mental illness are essential to understanding the struggle of Todoroki and his mother in context, and the power that his father holds over the two of them after sending her there. While there are many other important cultural differences that may change the impact of Todoroki’s backstory depending on who is interpreting it, the stark differences between Japanese psychiatric care compared to what I am familiar with as an American stuck out to me as something that is probably less likely to be known by the average anime viewer. I realized I had no perspective on what psychiatric care meant in Japan, so I decided to investigate.

Many sources include clarification for other claims that may appear unsourced, as well as often referencing certain aspects of Japanese culture that appear unsourced. The following is not a scientific paper, nor is it anywhere near a complete representation of psychiatric care in Japan, and should not be treated as anything more than an extremely casual anime essay that I spent a disproportionate amount of time on trying to research statistics in order to put the suffering of Todoroki’s mother into perspective, and the weight carried by a threat of forcible hospitalization in Japan, and give insight into what this may mean in terms of the source culture.

How long she was likely gone, what she may have experienced, and the transition from being physically controlled by her husband to being physically controlled within a hospital. I am not from Japan, most of my readers are not from Japan, so the ways in which we may be inclined to interpret the situation and its impact are entirely through the lenses of our own local cultures. My focus was mostly on facts and results from studies, which while easily citable, are again in no way a full picture of anything; I am not a good source for Japanese culture, this is not a good place to read about it fully, and if you try to use this as an educational resource well, uh, stop that. Beyond condemning a few specific practices, this is also not intended in any way to be a criticism of Japanese culture, but rather, a focus on a bunch of statistics and facts that I thought pertinent to this scene in My Hero Academia. Another important point here is the fact that there is an extremely limited number of English resources regarding Japanese psychiatric practices compared to ones entirely in Japanese, and not even the laws are officially translated, specifically the laws and reforms regarding mental health. One important thing I want to note is that given how nightmarish Todoroki’s situation seems altogether and how much effort is put into making it as bad as possible, I am inclined to believe that his mother’s experience in the hospital was also intended to be on the more negative, potentially leaning towards worst or at the very least worse-than-average spectrum of experiences. My speculation reflects that.

END WARNING

Todoroki’s mom was so scared, she knew she needed to seek help to the point she asked help from people who forced her into the situation, but now that he forcibly hospitalized her, now that she acted out, now that he framed her as this inherently and consistently horrible violent person, the hospital could justify doing whatever they want to her. Japan is one of the last places in the world that uses physical restraints in psychiatric hospitals, and they use them very frequently alongside heavy sedation and otherwise high doses of drugs. Violent patients and patients with histories of violence are treated much, much worse on average, and she entered the hospital directly after having attacked her son. There is, to some extent, fear of mental illness and the mentally ill in Japan, especially in terms of those with histories of violence.

Even though Todoroki’s mother knows just how much she has been hurt and how much danger she and her son are in from her husband, they evidently never believed her, or at least never got her out of there. They may have called any claims of abuse acting out, they may have called it more evidence of her violence or her trying to blame her own assumed tendency towards violence on her innocent virtuous husband, they may have called her hysterical and drugged her even more, maybe even until she stopped claiming her husband was violent and abusive. After all, he is a top hero and has immeasurable influence, he very well also could have bribed or charmed the doctors just like he did everyone else to disregard his abuse and silence her. The doctors may be led to believe that her claims of abuse were delusions, and that she was suffering from a delusion when she attacked her son, so the goal for their treatment may have actually been to explicitly end those “delusions” of abuse to avoid future violence.

Another example of how much power Todoroki’s dad has is how he managed to get her admitted to a psychiatric hospital in the time it took Todoroki to come home from the ER thanks to his political influence. Involuntary admission in Japan requires politician approval. Additionally, who would believe her that she was not the consistently violent one? She brutally attacked her child with boiling water, after all. Surely it must have been the result of her mental illness to accuse him of any abuse, as the trustworthy top hero may have even warned the doctors, so surely all she needed was more drugs until her alleged delusions subsided. She attacked her son due to a claim that she was traumatized by her husband’s abuse, which he surely denied. The fact that he sent her to a psychiatric hospital instead of jail could have been seen as an act of mercy, when it truly was just to ensure he could manipulate her as long as possible, and the fact that having his wife arrested would have been a worse hit on his reputation than having her sent to a hospital. Plus, being charged with a crime might give her the opportunity to have him investigated. Regardless of how her claims of abuse were handled, nothing was done. Now she is scarier to the public than the man who deserved to be locked up a long time ago.

In 2017, a New Zealand man died from a heart attack after being restrained for 10 days in a Japanese psychiatric hospital and developing deep vein thrombosis (DVT) due to the restraints. 10 days not being allowed to leave the bed, to the point a blood clot developed, went entirely unaddressed, and resulted in a heart attack. The average time spent in medical restraints in Japanese psychiatric hospitals is 96 days. Yes, 3 months. Almost everywhere else in the world, that figure is a few hours if any. The source of the average length of time spent in restraints seems to be entirely written in Japanese, and while I was unable to directly read that particular report, I verified that it has been cited by numerous advocacy groups and news sources, and I spent hours comparing it to general information regarding physical restraints in Japan. Deep vein thrombosis is common for restrained patients in Japan, and use of restraints is on the rise. In 2013, about 29% of all psychiatric patients in Japan were placed in restraints (10,299 patients out of a total of around 297,000). Violent patients are more likely to be restrained.  According to a 2014 study of a Tokyo hospital, over 11% of patients in restraints develop deep vein thrombosis. And that study was performed with patients wearing compression stockings and receiving regular injections of unfractionated heparin (UFH), both of which reduce the overall chance of a blood clot. Those precautions are not enforced across Japan and may be exclusive to this study. So without those precautions, the general rate of developing DVT from these restraints is likely much higher.

Japan has the highest ratio of psychiatric beds to population in the world. In Japan, hospitals are viewed as long-term care facilities, so while a psychiatric stay in America might be a few weeks, in Japan it can be years. In 2008, the average length of stay in a psychiatric hospital was 290 days. Involuntary admission is associated with an even longer length of stay, and involuntary admissions between April 2014 and March 2016 were about 35% of total admissions. There is no legal upward limit of involuntary hospitalization in Japan. Involuntary hospitalization is initiated by the prefectural governor, with no guaranteed timeline for psychiatric assessment. Japan has on average four times the average involuntary hospitalization rate as other OECD countries.

As a result of research into restraints in Japan, I found https://www.norestraint.org/ , a Japanese advocacy website aimed to improve psychiatric care and campaign for the end of restraints in Japanese psychiatric hospitals. With the help of Google Translate, the page describes how some people in charge of psychiatric associations in Japan believe doctors should be given guns, which are extremely illegal in Japan. It also gives a visual on some types of restraint used. Japan has high rates of high dose medication and forced sedation, electroconvulsive therapy, and isolation in these psychiatric facilities. “Megadosing” is abundant, in that patients are given heavy doses of medicine until they are no longer resistant or are otherwise considered quiet, partially to compensate for understaffing. There are commonly not enough workers in these facilities, and high doses of drugs are often used to make patients more compliant instead of hiring more workers. The psychiatric hospitals in Japan are also mostly privately owned. In researching these statistics, I encountered countless stories demonstrating the worst possible scenarios. These experiences are again not necessarily indicative of the average hospital stay in Japan, and these statistics only represent very specific aspects of medical procedure within Japanese psychiatric hospitals, and are in no way “complete” representations of an average stay or the attitudes of all psychiatric healthcare professionals. However, one thing that came up repeatedly is the idea that some aspects of an individual’s stay can be influenced at the request of the family, including requesting longer time spent in restraints and longer stays.

In Japan, the views regarding mental illness differ greatly from the western model, which likely contributes to the contrast between their physical and psychiatric healthcare. A survey published in 2006 comparing the outlook towards mental illness between Australia and Japan presented four stories describing individuals with major depression, major depression with suicidal thoughts, early schizophrenia, and chronic schizophrenia, and then asked the respondents several questions regarding them. These stories were translated multiple times between English and Japanese to ensure that the translations were accurate. When asked to describe what the individuals in the story were experiencing, the results illustrated a Japanese preference towards phrases like “emotional problems” compared to the Australian survey. This same survey also demonstrated just how heavily family and community are expected to participate in the caretaking of those with mental illness in Japan, with nearly 2-3x the Japanese respondents saying that the individuals in the examples given would be best helped by their families, with more emphasis on the individual recognizing their own problems compared to the Australian responses. In terms of professional help, while the Australian participants largely recommended seeing a general doctor, the Japanese participants pointed towards counselors and psychiatrists.

In terms of what would not be viewed as helpful for the individuals in the stories, there was a significant disparity between the countries. In terms of depression, 87.3% of Australian respondents believed that a general doctor would be helpful, compared to only 30.4% in Japan. 35.4% of Australians surveyed said that a pharmacist would be helpful for the individual with depression, while in Japan only 6.8% believed a pharmacist would be helpful, with 22-23.6% actually saying that pharmacists would be harmful compared to about 8.1-8.7% in Australia. These responses were similar across all four examples. Roughly thrice the Japanese respondents believed that tranquilizers were beneficial across all conditions compared to Australia. Australia showed a heavy preference towards vitamins, with over 50% believing vitamins being beneficial to the individual with depression. In terms of medications being harmful, Australia leaned heavily towards calling tranquilizers, sleeping pills, and antipsychotics as harmful while significantly less Japanese respondents (roughly half as much or less) thought their application could be harmful to the individuals in the stories.

There was significant doubt towards the abilities of the individuals in the stories to recover in the Japanese survey, for example, just 7.4% believed that the individual with depression could make a full recovery even with professional help, compared to 37.3% in Australia. The Japanese survey leaned heavily towards individuals with professional help making progress, but with relapse. While the results are over 10 years old and there has been much change in society since then, I personally just thought the numbers were really cool.

More recently, a 2013 paper attempted to summarize the results of 19 papers regarding mental illness stigma in Japan published since 2001. Chronic schizophrenia was singled out as being viewed as especially dangerous in Japan, largely due to fear of violence, despite not many people being able to accurately identify it in practice. Medication for mental illness was generally poorly understood, with relatively few believing in the effectiveness of antidepressants as a whole. Friends and family were most commonly considered helpful, followed by counselors. Fear of schizophrenia in Japan was prevalent across multiple studies and statistics. Overall, Japan had more stigma than Australia and Taiwan, but less than China. The analysis mentioned that in Japan, personality is more commonly seen as a cause of mental illness than circumstance and biological factors. The findings suggested that the chronic institutionalization of those with mental illness may play a role in the stigma of mental illness, in that more frequent contact with and education about mental illness is associated with better outcomes in regards to acceptance.

Mental illness is commonly thought of in Japan as something that cannot be recovered from. Meaning, someone who has been labeled with a mental illness may never be viewed the same by society. This stigma played a role in why Todoroki’s mother took so long to seek out help, and why she waited until it got so bad to reach out. Mental illness is often seen as a loss of self-control, families are expected to care for mentally ill individuals, and there is a resistance to seeking out professional help beyond counselors. This plays a factor in why sending her to a hospital was an act of abuse on the part of Todoroki’s father within the context of Japanese culture. Although attacking Todoroki with boiling water was an extreme act of violence, general expectations are to discuss within the family how to address mental illness before seeking out a professional, or to at least look into a counselor, both which should have happened long ago. The process is not necessarily the same after an assault, but again, the family discussion should have happened a long time ago.

Todoroki’s mother reached out to her own family for help with what she was experiencing even though they were the ones that gave her to him for the sole purpose of bearing powerful children and were aware of the ongoing abuse for a while. They put her there. They did not get her out of there despite his constant physical abuse, either. She spoke about the situation on the phone as if they already knew. And evidently they also never backed up her claims of her husband actively hurting her and her son, since Todoroki never mentioned him getting investigated or them splitting up afterwards. She tried to seek mental counsel from a group of people who sold her for her Quirk as a readily available womb, because regardless of how they treated her, family is still expected to help. In that same sense, Todoroki’s father was supposed to attempt to help as well. Which would essentially involve telling him to stop being abusive, because it was evidently the trauma from his abuse that eventually led to the outburst. Obviously he did not want to do that. He wanted to punish her for acting out. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Had he truly done this as an act of kindness, he would have changed. He did not, because he is an abusive shithead. As mentioned above, involuntary hospitalization requires authorization from local politicians, so the fact that he is a top hero plays an enormous role in exactly how easily and quickly he managed to get his wife committed. He could easily have her held longer, or re-committed should she ever act out again or even try to seek out help.

In terms of what contributed to the outburst, there are a ton of potential factors. For one thing, we saw Todoroki’s father shove his mother to the ground, leading the audience to believe there is a significant history of violence against her, as well as hints given by Todoroki’s description of his father being given access to his mother. Women in violent domestic abuse situations are extremely prone to having traumatic brain injuries. Experiencing domestic violence also makes someone more likely to develop mental illness in general. In terms of potential PTSD, the absolute inability to get away from her abuser due to how physically powerful and influential he is probably played a role in the severity of the attack. Her family was well aware of the abuse she experienced. She could have already been drugged, she could have already been on medication and experiencing side effects, there are not a lot of details thus far. But there are two things we know about Todoroki’s father for certain: he is one of the most powerful people in the world and has access to whatever resources he wants, and he is a raging abusive asshole. Regardless of the specifics here of what she experienced, the abuse evidently continued after her attack. Otherwise, this would have been considered an event in Todoroki’s life and not his backstory.

The impact of being forced into a psychiatric hospital is not the same in America and Japan, and the culture surrounding mental illness is much different as well.

I do not want to begin to elaborate how traumatic medical abuse is, and I will not pretend like America or any other part of the world is in any way free from it either, but the impact of the hospitalization may be lost in translation depending on the locale of the viewer.

Hospitals are supposed to help people. Police are supposed to help people. Heroes are supposed to help people. They have all failed this kid and he is absolutely trapped. He went to the hospital and returned to find his mother taken from him, leaving him with an angry father and presumably nobody to protect him. Todoroki was forced to grow up viewing “heroes” as people who hurt, as one of the most successful heroes in the world was personally dedicated to make his life hell. To that end, he may have even found himself occasionally cheering for villains, just to find refuge in a fantasy where someone can protect him from his father. His father had political influence, and because politicians are the ones responsible for permitting involuntary hospitalization in Japan, he had the power to send away his family at will if they ever tried to speak up. Even in a society of superpowers, even in a society with magic, the world still fails to protect children. It enables abusers. It did not even bother to consider that people who love violence might be attracted to the job of being a hero, to express their love for violence and to be able to legally hurt or kill people. UA has absolutely no resources to identify abusive heroes, they do nothing about outwardly violent students. They do nothing to guide them, they do nothing to support them. I bet anything nobody is going to take note of all this talk of rejecting his father and do anything either despite it being a huge red flag. All Might straight up asked his old buddy how his student’s home life was, and the response was basically that he was being abused and that the kid wanted out. And nothing happened.

He knows.

And All Might was allegedly the only person in the world stronger than Todoroki’s father, and allegedly the best hero in the world. At some point, Todoroki may have even cheered for All Might, hoping that the man his father viewed as a threat and so desperately wanted to overpower could one day help himself and his mother defeat the villain in their own lives. But that help never came.

This world is an absolute nightmare. Abusive childhood with added superpowers for the abusers and no consequences. People without superpowers are treated horribly. People with mental illness are still treated horribly. They never believed that poor woman, and even if they did, they never followed through to protect a CHILD.

Todoroki spent his childhood being abused by someone beloved by the world and ignored by every institution that was supposed to help him. The man that so many around the world were so excited to meet was the same man that he desperately wanted to escape from. He watched the world praise a man who went home and abused his family. He was forced to watch his mother suffer similarly, and was even attacked by her as a result from her trauma. Instead of this being a wakeup call for his father, he tightened the reins and punished her for not more readily accepting his abuse. Todoroki knew he had to become stronger, but he wanted to do everything he could to never become like his horrifying father. He struggled to make bonds with others, and where his peers chose teamwork, he opted for independence.

And Todoroki finally managed to reach out to his seemingly empathetic and understanding classmate to break the news to him that one of the top heroes that he probably was a fan of prior is a terrible, terrible person. He vents, revealing just to what extent he is trapped and suffering. While he does not detail the specifics such as in the flashbacks, he paints a pretty blatant picture of a very abusive home life without much hope to escape. He admits to the ways in which he tries to cope with his trauma and avoid becoming like his father, while still trying to become strong enough to physically protect himself and his mother, and what does Midoriya say, on international television for all to hear?

REJECTING YOUR FATHER MAKES YOU A JACKASS AND YOUR TRAUMA IS AN INSULT TO EVERYONE AROUND YOU

FUCK OFF

[drama--universe]

Hwarang x foreigner!reader

You walked in the dark, passing the sacred place Najeong with your hood up. Your bare feet in the cold grass and your jacket dragging over the ground as sounds of fighting filled the air. You frowned and walked towards the sounds, seeing a few men fighting. Footsteps and shouting echoed over the fighting sounds and your eyes widen as you turned to run only to be pulled back by 2 guards. They had surrounded you and the fighting men. Not much later, you were tied to poles and your hood was ripped off. Your (h/l) (h/c) messy hair was revealed; as well as your (s/c) skin and (e/c) eyes. The guards stared at you in shock.

“What? Never seen a foreigner woman with pants?” You snapped and the guards frowned, scoffing at your attitude. You groaned and you mumbled something in your own language, making all the guys look at you. You glared at them and they turned away from you, except one. A younger looking man was still staring at you.

“You look so different...” He mumbled and you rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment and looked around. You were very sleepy as it was, so you let yourself fall asleep slowly.

When you woke up again, you saw someone in front of you with water in his hand. Before you could say anything, the water was splashed into your face. You shook your head and sighed.

“Everytime...” You mumbled as an elder man started to talk, but you didn’t pay attention. That was until you were tied to a chair. Your sleeves slipped and your tattoo was revealed, making the guard pause as he saw it.

“What? Seen that before?” You asked with a smug expression as the guard froze again. The man that was talking earlier made his way towards you with a frown. He grabbed your arm and pulled it towards him, pulling the sleeve up.

“Ah... The famous Rebel. A foreigner who travels from country to country, causing alot of trouble. Never thought it could be a woman.” The man said and you scoffed, pulling your arm out of his grip and hiding your tattoo. He leaned closer to say something, but you simply spit in his face.

“I’ll be glad to torture you.” He spat before a man ran towards him whispered something in the man’s ear. The elder frowned at this and looked back at me.

“The queen wants you as Hwarang. All of you can choose.” “So, if we sign to be a Hwarang we will be released?” One of the captured people asked and the elder man nodded. They all started to shout to be released; except for you, a young boy that was tied in a chair next to you and a man that wore a very cold expression. Then the boy next to me shouted to be released as well and you scrunched up your nose.

“Release me as well!” You shouted and a guard untied you. You quickly “signed” and leaving.

You stood in front of the Hwarang residence in the same outfit as every other boy. Well, you were girl but still...The gates were opened Master Wi Hwa -, you had only recently learned his name, shouted something and everyone started walking inside. When we were inside, everyone stood in front of a small table and small glasses were placed on it. You raised a brow in confusion.

“We have to drink?” You silently questioned and indeed you had. Master Wi Hwa counted every drink you had to drink and you scoffed when you downed the first glass.

“I’ve had worse...” You mumbled, downing the second glass. You, a guy named Yeo-Wool and a guy called Ji-Dwi seemed to be fine with drinking the liquor while others didn’t... Han Sung, who you recognized from Najeong, who stood next to you was not handling the liquor well. By his second or third glass, he was literally telling the glass to stop moving. Same could be said about all the other Hwarangs. After every glass was downed, Master Wi Hwa told us to collect our room card. You picked your card out of the box. A gray card with a red string.

The rest of the night went quiet for you as you had also talked to Master Wi Hwa about the fact that you didn’t need to shower with your room. When the night had fallen, you walked into your room and dropped on one of the beds. The room you slept in was okay; beside the fact that you slept in the same room as a flirt, a random guy from the West, the son of Master Ahnji and 2 archenemies... Okay, this is going to be harder then you thought.

At, what you guessed was around 5 am, someone woke you up. More specifically 2 boys. Ban-ryu and Su-ho.

“Why are the fighting?” You asked, getting up and Yeo-Wool looked down from his bed.

“Well, darling~” “Don’t call me that.” You snapped and he smirked, waving his fan.

“Well, they’re enemies. It’s what’s supposed to happen.” Yeo-Wool said and you rolled your eyes, standing up.

“I’m going to shower, don’ t kill... You know what, I’m not even going to bother.” You mumbled, walking off with your clothes. You left the room and were met with every other Hwarang. They were all staring at you, but you ignored it and walked past them all.

“(y/n)!!!” Someone yelled your name and you turned around. Of course it was Han Sung.

“Hello, Han Sung...” You mumbled and he smiled brightly as he reached you.

“I was wondering... Where are you from?” He asked and you smiled.

“I’m from (y/c). It’s far from here.” You explained and he smiled brightly again.

“So you know other cultures and languages?” He asked and you nodded.

“You have to teach me!” He exclaimed, clinging to your arm like a little kid. You pulled your arm out of his grip and he pouted. ‘Cute...’ You thought, smiling at the boy.

“Maybe some day...” You said, patting Han Sung’s head softly and he smiled.

“Promise?” “Promise.” You said and he held out his hand. You chuckled and linked your pinky with his before pressing your thumb against his. He cheered and did a weird dance, smiling.

“You promised!” He exclaimed before running off to god knows where, leaving you confused. You shrugged it off and went to the shower. After you were done, you walked out with a towel around yourself. You then proceeded to take your clothes, going back in the showers to dress. When you finished, you dried your hair. You moved back to the dorm and sat down, looking at the rest. "So, who won?"

[whitehotharlots]

M.I.A., Fariha Róisín, and the rhetorical triumph of passive listening

I’ve been thinking about the rise and fall of M.I.A., the might-aughts musical sensation who was briefly the most celebrated alternative pop artist in the world. 2004’s Piracy Funds Terrorism and 05’s Arular generated some of the most positive press I’d ever seen from outlets like Pitchfork (which, back then, still kinda counted as an alternative to dominant culture). 2007’s crossover hit Kala was one of the most genuinely dangerous and experimental records ever to enter the mainstream of American culture. Then... she just kinda went away. 

M.I.A.’s politics were miles beyond the limp, bland positivity of the era’s liberalism. She was literally militant, lending her support for the Tamil Tigers. A lyric on her song “Sunshowers,” (“Like the PLO I don’t surrender”), was considered dangerous enough that it got her banned from entering the US for several months.  This was not the fuzzy, feelgood liberalism of Obama, nor even the “fierceness” of someone like Beyonce, whose material accomplishments are considered a substitute for actual politics. This was a literal refugee woman telling the world that, actually, things really fucking suck, and if you want them to get better you you’re going to have to fight.

Of course, this engendered pushback--first and foremost from the “liberals” at Pitchfork. M.I.A. complained, rightfully, that music reviewers tended to give far too much credit to the male collaborators of female musicians. No one would attribute the genius of Purple Rain to Wendy and Lisa, so why did all of her reviewers spend so much time talking about Diplo? Pitchfork responded by viciously smearing her next album and accusing her of uneven and naive politics. Other outlets followed suit, and by the turn of the decade she had fallen out of mainstream favor.

And so you’d think, with recent developments, that the liberal-leaning press would have switched positions in regard to M.I.A., maybe even apologize for the horrible treatment she received. After all, the meat of her criticism is now practically unquestionable. And so I was confused by this article from affidavit.art, which is a rather woke-leaning website. The piece’s author, Fariha Róisín, purports to demonstrate herself taking a nuanced and forgiving tack toward M.I.A., but in doing so she reinforces some of the most reactionary and regressive impulses of our current social justice paradigm. In reading through it, seeing how deftly it continues to smear M.I.A. for the crime of being a genuinely dissident artist, we can get a good bead on the self-destructive tendencies of wokeism.

Róisín’s article is a personal reflection upon her relationship with M.I.A. as an artist, starting with her infatuation with the M.I.A’s early work, and moving into political disappointment that culminated in her asking hostile questions to the artist at a MoMa panel. She frames things by explaining

I hadn’t listened to Maya’s [M.I.A.’s] work in a couple of years, after she somewhat embarrassingly responded off the cuff to a question about Black Lives Matter: “Is Beyoncé or Kendrick Lamar going to say Muslim Lives Matter? Or Syrian Lives Matter? Or this kid in Pakistan matters?”

MIA’s comment, I would argue, is tone-deaf. Within the context that Róisín presents it, it certainly comes across as insensitive. The US criminal justice system is a world-historic atrocity that has ruined countless lives. It should be discussed in stark terms, and it’s fine to criticize someone who appears to not regard it with the severity it deserves.

But let’s look at MIA’s full quote, as it appeared in The Daily Standard:

“It’s interesting that in America the problem you’re allowed to talk about is Black Lives Matter. It’s not a new thing to me — it’s what Lauryn Hill was saying in the 1990s, or Public Enemy in the 1980s. Is Beyoncé or Kendrick Lamar going to say Muslim Lives Matter? Or Syrian Lives Matter? Or this kid in Pakistan matters? That’s a more interesting question. And you cannot ask it on a song that’s on Apple, you cannot ask it on an American TV programme, you cannot create that tag on Twitter, Michelle Obama is not going to hump you back”

Knowing anything about MIA’s personal history makes it clear that she did not intend to diminish the horrors of American judicial violence. When one reads the full quote (oh, the horror of having to parse an entire paragraph!), it’s clear she’s stressing a bigger picture here, criticizing the fact that the vast majority of US liberals still refuse to criticize US militarism, even as they’ve become near-pathological in defining themselves as social justice crusaders. She is, in short, criticizing the ineffective and narrow politics of people like Róisín.

I cannot speak for Kendrick and Beyonce in specific, but I have known dozens of putatively woke people--people who consume all the right cultural artifacts, who would never speak over a black person in a workplace meeting, who have been very vocal critics of police violence for upwards of 4 whole years--who still proudly celebrate the armed forces.

Through direct military action, support for brutal dictatorships, and otherwise meddling in the affairs of other countries in pursuit of our own financial interests, the American Military Industrial Complex has been the single biggest purveyor of human suffering worldwide for the past 70-odd years. They have killed literally tens of millions of people, ruined the lives of a few hundred million more, and immiserated billions. US foreign policy spends trillions of dollars killing brown people and enriching a handful of elites. And, to most American wokeists, that constitutes at best a complicated situation worthy of consideration and debate--unlike, say, someone who supports the wrong movie to win best picture, or who doesn’t celebrate Cardi B--these people deserve uniform and unambiguous condemnation. This perplexing mindset is what M.I.A/ was criticizing.

Of course, those who operate within this mindset are going to reject this criticism. They will refuse to just listen to those who question their approach to social justice. They will speciously declare such criticism as evidence of the evil nature of the person who uttered it, demand the “cancellation” of said person, and use all criticisms of their condemnation as proof of their own righteousness--if what they were saying wasn’t good and true, then why did so many bad and wrong people disagree with it?

Unless, that is, they take so-called “nuanced” route outlined by Róisín. In the face of overwhelming evidence of the vicious self-certainty of her peers, Róisín  attempts to deflect such criticism by introducing a new plane of equivocation. MIA isn’t evil, she says. The artist is just deeply ignorant, a defect born of her inability to listen in the correct manner:

Cancelling people is exhilarating, especially when it’s done by marginalized folks, those who so often experience the world through white supremacy—sometimes as a soft and subtle barrage, other times through vicious and terrifying means. The ability to dictate someone’s fate, when you’ve long been in the shadows, is a kind of victory. Like saying “Fuck You” from underneath the very heavy sole of a very old shoe. But while outrage culture has its merits, nuance has evaporated. So often it involves reducing someone to their mistakes, their greatest hits collection of fuck-ups.

This does not mean that we should simply forgive an untoward statement. It certainly does not mean we should try to understand where that statement came from. Nor does it even mean we should read a statement within the context of the full paragraph in which it appeared. Oh no. It means, instead, we should ascribe that statement to ignorance:

What I believe Maya is trying to say is that American issues have become global. What she lacks the language to say is: how do we also care about the many millions of people around the world who are dying, right now? Why does American news, American trauma, American death, always take center-stage?

It’s pretty fucking insulting to insist that M.I.A. “lacks language.” But Róisín makes the exact same assertion again, a few paragraphs later.  She ends the lead-in to her description of the moment in which she calls out M.I.A. (which is interminably long and ponderous) with the following, deeply chilling quote: “You can understand Maya’s perspective without agreeing with her, but I had another question. How do you hold someone you love accountable?” Indeed. Even if you try in earnest to understand someone’s perspective, that does not absolve you of your duty to punish them for their word-crimes.

During the talk, M.I.A, rightfully, defended herself against accusations of racism. We can all agree that’s a mistake. In reality, it’s a mistake because wokeists considering defending oneself to constitute proof of guilt. In “nuanced” woke framing, it’s a mistake because it reveals a refusal to just listen:

Her incomprehension that people could be upset by her remarks reflected her naivety about how the internet kills its darlings. Two weeks prior to our meeting, Stephon Clark was murdered, shot twenty times in the back by two police officers. To this she responded: “Yeah, well no-one remembers the kid in Syria who is being shot right now either. Or the kid that’s dying in Somalia.” It made me wonder if she was unwell, not on a Kanye level, but just enough to lack the mechanisms it takes to understand perspective.

[ … ]

Laconic and aloof, I remind Maya on stage that anti-blackness is not an American issue, it’s universal. Perhaps it’s ego, or shameful anger, but I know she cares. Before she begins to speak I realize that you have to build empathy when someone fails you. That they’re not yours to own. You have to try your best to talk to them, and that it’s never helpful to reduce them to a punchline. I believe in Maya’s possibility to grow. I believe in the possibility of change. Maybe that’s my own naivety, but it’s also my political stance. It’s not about compromising ideology, or even making space for the existence of those ideas. It’s about creating dialogue. She begins to speak, and I listen. Holding space for her when I can without biting my tongue. But, mainly, asserting myself as hard as I can, with as much compassion as the situation deserves. We are sisters in this fight, and we’re butting heads—but both critique and accountability are important. So I remind her with a glance, with an interjection, that I’m here to talk, too.

Ascribing an ideological disagreement to one side’s refusal to listen to the other side is perhaps the laziest form of argument. It is, after all, the preferred tactic of Jordan Peterson’s idiot fans. The assumption is that one side is manifestly correct, and so the only way someone could disagree with them is they didn’t bother to listen to what that side had to say. Even if they claim to have listened, they must have listened incorrectly. Otherwise, they would certainly agree with what the other person was saying.

Róisín takes this process well beyond the Peterson fans’ simple wailing of “you need to watch more of his videos!”  She instead crafts an ethos of false humility out of a long and detailed description of attempting to not dismiss MIA’s viewpoint even as she does exactly that, of announcing how little pleasure she’s taking in describing the manifest evil of the horrible, ignorant pop star.  

This displays the bizarre definition of “listening” as the act of simply remaining silent while another person speaks. You’ll notice that Róisín doesn’t bother to cite anything M.I.A. said--it’s unlikely she retained anything, other than perhaps appropriate pull-quote that would, outside of context, allow her to present the artist as an ignorant racist. Listening remains, by definition, a unidirectional affair. But turning it into a completely passive act turns it into a powerful rhetorical tool. Listeners need not attempt to understand speakers (that might actually go against the spirit of proper Listening). It’s still okay to demonize someone for something they never actually said. The power of passive listening is that it allows us to feign humility and claim its mantle of righteousness, to disguise dismissal as empathy.

Those who have actually studied race theory might notice a pretty incredible contradiction in Róisín’s penultimate paragraph. Her belief that anti-blackness is a universal constant is perhaps ascendent now, at least within middlebrow woke media. But this is by no means an accepted understanding within actual scholarship: Adolph Reed, Barbara and Karen Fields, Asad Haider, Walter Benn-Michaels, Stephen Steinberg, and Kenneth Warren would all strongly disagree with such an assertion.

Broadly, these scholars (and dozens of others, all erased by Róisín) argue that such a conception of anti-blackness is actually incredibly regressive, as it is based on an understanding of race that cannot be combatted through personal or political action. If Róisín had bothered to actually listen--in the sense where she not only received but actively engaged with what other people were saying--she might not have made such a comment. But that’s not what she does. That’s not what is safe. That’s not what is possible. What is safe, and possible, and popular is exactly what Róisín does in this article: she presents an incredibly imperious argument in the guise of pathological humility; her perspective becomes validated precisely because of its dismissiveness. Nevermind its self-contradictions. Nevermind its profound inefficacy. She’s right, her critics are wrong, and that is all that anyone is allowed to say.

[peacefulwriter88]

Retrograde - Chapter 1

Carter Baizen x Beth Buckley, Carter Baizen x WoC!Reader

Warnings: M for Mature (18+ for Language, eventual SMUT)

A/N: This is a first time collaboration with the talented and beautiful @xgminigypsy​ where we really wanted to explore this subplot from the small time Carter was on the show and how that would translate over time.  I want to note that for this story, my reader character may occasionally reference her skin being curly which will be the only unambiguous reference. This doesn’t mean that I will try to be as ambiguous to keep all other WoC engaged – it is important for me to represent the barrage of beautiful shades and cultures out there but I do want to be transparent about where I am coming from.

Either way I hope you enjoy – we are very, very excited to make this for y’all!

                            Chapter 1 - Forged Friendship

You hated events like these. They started out with the illusion that it was warm and welcoming – bright lights drawing you in, beautiful gowns and suits of every fabric that caressed the skin of patrons, food that only the bourgeois of Manhattan would indulge in. The flowers crisp and inviting as you sit at a table with strangers who have, in some capacity, made a dent in the American economy. But the more you would sit there, flanked by strangers as they alluded to get to know you, the more you’d notice the things buried underneath. The expensive champagne that fizzed to the top of the overpriced crystal flutes, causing everyone to feel like they were walking on cloud 9 and allowed to say or do anything. Allowing them some sort of entitled permission that would reveal their surprise that someone like you had successfully made it into their circles and there curious to see how long you would stay. Tight, narrow lipped mouths would slip about how they were thrilled that someone who was so clever and witty was taking the lead in becoming acquainted with humanitarian work. The silver they clinked together as they ate their overpriced beef or lobster trying to disguise their borderline racist comments that yes, people should to a degree be involved with public education but was it really on the public that they had to save the poor little black and brown kids who had been born of poverty. Took pride in donating heaps of money for a cause they were only supporting because you’re fashion line with your mother had improved a majority of the women’s confidence in the room and it had been easy to persuade their husbands to open up their pocket books.

You hated these events because the people here actually believed they were descendants of Zeus, Olympians in their high towers of New York and it both disgusted and scared you to know that you had worked hard to infiltrate this foreign, new world. That by reaching the top, your morals and values were now constantly being challenged by some new ring of expectation. But mostly, you hated when you walked into the sea of white faces – because they were the majority in not only America but most of the wealth in the world – they always had to give you a second look of approval, remembering that you had proven your worth. That for now you were safe in their crowd because you brought something unique and sustainable and marketable which was able to brush off the knowledge that you were new money.

By the time you finish your speech, thanking the crowd for their donations and for attending, you are absolutely nauseous with disgust. You have to escape, if just for a moment, you decide as you move down the steps of the stage. The navy blue gown swims around your legs, the thick material clinging to the soft waves of your curves as you move with purpose through the crowd. You’re stopped a few times, new businessmen taking a minute to compliment the speech you’ve delivered, impressed by the vision of the company your mother had started and that you were now co-founder of in Legada. You ignore the way their eyes flicker to your bosom, watching the way your breast move up and down in the tight material and you tsk at yourself, wishing you had chosen another gown because the last thing you wanted to deal with was male chauvinism.

By the time you make it to the bar, you order your favorite bottle of champagne – the whole bottle and never mind about a glass. The bartender raises a speculative eyebrow but only chuckles, opening and then handing you the overly priced alcohol as you tip him a 50, ensuring him you may or may not be back to grab another within the hour. That would be outlandish of course, but at this rate who were you to judge yourself. You’re able to navigate past a book of investors, past Lily Bass-Humphrey and her self-involved daughter and the husbands that you could equally do without, past the curious eyes of Nate Archibald who has been curiously flickering his eyes toward you before you make it out to balcony, welcoming the stuffy humid air as it kisses your skin.

Its May, summer was on the brink but that doesn’t scare off the east coast weather, bordering between wet rainstorms and thick, hot humid days. Tonight was cool despite the humidity, a nice breeze flying off the Atlantic as you make it to the balcony’s edge, drinking in the island of Manhattan. It was on fire, alight by the thousands of occupants and you take a deep sigh before taking a drink of the champagne, allowing the bubbles to calm you. You missed the calm waves of LA, the many street vendors with the best variety of streets tacos and the funky backdrop of palm trees. The sun that kissed your skin and that you were always a hop away from a beach.

You were a long way from your former home.

You were so deep in your thoughts you barely feel the small vibration that reverberates in your chest, and you stealthily tug your phone from the cell phone sleeve you designed in the safety of your bosom, sweat and heat free as you look down at the message.

Wishing more than anything that I was with you tonight Princess. I know how much you just love schmoozing those upper east siders.

Three more days and I’m all yours again

The words cause your heart to skip a beat, slows down the fast breathing as you lean into the edge shaking your head as you text back a reply.

What did I ever do to deserve you? You always know the right things to say exactly when I need to hear it….

He knew about your anxiety. You had been transparent about that into date two. And he always knew the rights words to draw you back home. You watch the three small dots instantly pop up, letting you know that he was responding back before the words cause you to laugh out loud.

My sister said that you threw some, and she quotes, “deep shade at the Humphreys” before storming out and I figured you needed to be reminded that we’re not ALL bad

You laugh, shaking your head. You’d forgotten that Caroline had come to the event to support you; to represent her brother and the company they both ran. She had been half the reason why you had been able to tolerate the dinner, sitting next to her as you both giggled and muttered about the ridiculousness of the night. But she had left, you had thought, immediately after your speech. Apparently you were faster grabbing that champagne than you thought.

I was trying to cover that up but of course she’d notice. Now stop using me as a distraction and get up. While I am more than happy that you allowed yourself to sleep in, I also know you have a barrage of meetings you need to prep for. Miss you and talk to you later

Transcontinental communication was the enemy of any relationship. You both usually made it work, timing your morning and evenings as best as you could. You smile as another round of dots pop up.

Fine, fine. Call me before you head to bed. Want to wish my Princess a good night.

I love you

One last text that has a permanent smile perched on your lips before your jostled from the sound of sliding doors opening, the breathy strings of the quartet greeting you as you hastily place your phone back in the safety of your bosom.

Will do. I love you too

The person – woman – who walks out into the balcony takes you off guard. She’s the kind of woman that you imagine men could get lost into, her curves were so dominant, carried by her heavy hips and full bosom. She has thick, beautiful red hair that reminds you of a lioness and her makeup is impeccably pristine – nothing out of place and lending itself into the beautiful features of her face. She’s mixed you can automatically tell, though her skin could pass as white and her features our etched with something more exotic – you’d guess she’s either half black if money was to be put on it. Her big, hazel eyes shone in the deep haze of the moonlight as she thoroughly took you in, watching you with pointed curiosity. She was fucking gorgeous, alarmingly, and it made you a tad insecure, if just for a moment. It was one thing to get into the ring with someone like all American girl Serena or the regal Blaire. This woman could give you a run for your money and you couldn’t even be disappointed in the lost because damn more women needed to see that kind of beauty.

“Thought I’d be able to escape and get a moment out here on my own,” she says – her voice light and feminine as she does one last bold sweep of your body. “Didn’t expect to run into the woman who had been rocking that beautiful navy gown that has most the men salivating at the mouth and the women burning with jealousy. Not to mention, is the eloquent speaker of tonight’s affair.”

She watches as you lean back onto the rails of the balcony, boldly returning her stare as her smile widens.

“Whoever you are I like your style. Blue looks good on you. And I especially like that $400 bottle accessory in your hand. Mind sharing? If I have to deal with any of the people trying to prove to me that they accomplished something here tonight I might actually die of annoyance. You were the one who coordinated this and built out a ten year plan to ensure its sustainability. They just signed their checkbooks.”

Her voice is crisp and clean and you can’t help but quirk your head to the side. You were unaccustomed to pure honesty – for people to just outright say what they believed in. At least in this society. Yet from her you felt that it was natural, that it fell into the truth in a way that was genuinely complimentary and you keep your eyes on her as you take another swig of the bubbly drink before extending it out to her.

“I’ll drink to that. That’s probably the nicest thing anyone on this goddamn island has told me.”

She laughs, walking beside you as you turn back to your scenery and takes the bottle, taking a hearty swig and nodding her head.  

“Yea…that sounds about right. I’m Beth.” she extends her hand out and you shake it, returning her toothy grin.

“Y/N. Pleasure to meet you.”

“And you, Co-CEO of Legada. Your mom really develop that micro fabric that makes a woman look good without spanx, without the horrible tight feeling spanx gives you?”

She’s looking at you in that way all new people do when they hear that there is some magic fabric that has been sewn into modern fashion – clothing that they may not normally opt to wear and because it doesn’t flatter their figure but can now because of the micro fabric she was referring – a clothing line that made them actually feel the way the imagined themselves to feel. Vogue magazine had called it innovative – fusing science and fashion in a way that compliments all. Your mom had only drawn on the simple knowledge of knowing that at the end of the day people had a small nugget of vanity in them. It was good, to have a bit of vanity – it lent its way to confidence and everyone appreciated a confident woman.

“Yea. She was so tired of spanx that she just said fuck it and committed and alas Legada was born.”

Beth gives a huff of disbelief, taking in the 13 million dollar view.

“Listen, I went into Saks the other day and when they said they had clothes I could try on in the store, without pre-ordering, I almost guffawed. Like actually guffawed. And I tried on piece after piece and looked good in each one. And my friend, who is sizes smaller than me, tries on stuff and it’s giving her curves that never existed and she doesn’t have to wear a corset to achieve the look she’s going for. What kind of sorcery have you created?”

She’s talking to herself and you laugh, taking a longer sip.

“That had been my idea, to branch out to women who may not be as curvy as society tells them to be. To learn how to trick the fabric in creating fullness in places they might feel insecure in. Simple science really, and all woman have some kind of curve in their body structure. Even women who might be built without curves…you just gotta know the right kind of material to fuse the fabrics with. Same with making bras for bigger woman who might not want a ton of cleavage or those that need a lot. Or some who like both. It’s all about how you bond the agents together. That’s not the clever part,” you know you’re rambling as you look over at her, unable to stop. You loved talking about your work; was too prideful not to boast about it because it was brilliance and so many women were benefitting from it. “Making something, if you know what you’re doing and have the tenacity to push through it, is simple. Its knowing how to pair it with the longevity of clothing, how to fuse design with affordability and appeal. How to make something fashionable stand out on the runaways of Paris, but also get highlighted in department story ads for the everyday woman. You need to know how to work both parties in a way where all people are getting equitable results. The science of people, I’d argue, that’s the true challenge. And what I fucking live for if I can’t stay in a lab all day, knowing how to stroke the ego of the masses. Minus things like this. The science of these people are easy, simple boring results that make me want to gag on my soapbox which is what fears me. That in some way, I’m some ideation of who they are and maybe that’s why I really can’t stand being in there…..”

You realize you’ve done just that – jumped on your soapbox and started rambling. It wasn’t like you to just spill out your random rantings to a stranger but there was something about Beth where you felt like you could be honest. Bring down your guard just a bit.

She’s watching you, that same flicker of genuine curiosity in her eye before she clucks her tongue, shaking her head and looking back out at the view,

“I need to write an article on you. You gotta be smart ass shit to do what you do…”

You laugh, giving a casual shrug.

“I mean, my mom is the original developer. I took the lead on addressing how to help women who may not be as curvier gain that false ideal so they also gain the perks of curvier woman wanting to look slimmer. And we both collaborate on the bras and lingerie and stuff.”

“…and you have two different lines. Legada for the rich and Elegante for the poor. One company, two streams that support all women of all backgrounds. You’re idea. Not to mention you manage the business and your mom simply sticks to the science.”

She tilts her head at you, giving you the kind of scornful look your mother does when she knows she’s right and you can’t help but to laugh,  

“Either you’re my stocker or a damn good reporter who knows how to do her homework. What are you? Times? Post? That posh line of journalism that Nathanial runs…”

Beth laughs, holding her hands up defensively.

“All right, all right you got me. National Geographic. But they love unique pieces like this and maybe I’ve been following your career path since you officially moved to the big apple to manage your east coast line. Can you blame me? Especially when I realized your exit strategy for these kind of events are on par with how I usually cope at these things…”

She gives a pointed nod behind her and you nod, leaning into the balcony edge.

“No I can’t honestly. Its sooooo goddamn dull in there. This is not what I imagined when I was thrust into this weird society of the Upper East Side. I just want people to feel confident in themselves, to tie together why little investments also contribute to bigger investments in our society. Instead, I have men asking me what my next outreach effort is going to be – like it’s some sort of side hobby I do to preoccupy time. That’s not what being a good human is about but god forbid they understand that.”

You heave a sigh and Beth nods.

“They’re too shallow. Too bought into their own lie to ever get knocked out of it. Though you do shake them up, I have to admit. There not used to someone like you, bold and upfront about your beliefs. Either way I have to find a way to get through the next hour or so because whether I like it or not, I’m stuck here.”

You quirk up an eyebrow and she giggles,

“I promised my grandfather I’d stay here and I’d genuinely like to get to know you, off the record. But I’d also love to get to know you while playing a game of MFK…that’ll let me know if I can really trust you.”

You can’t help the large smile that spread across your face as you give a nod.

“Sounds fair to me.”

“Okay let’s do young wolf on wall street, distinguished wolf on wall street and old wolf on wall street?”

The both of you are sitting off to the side of the room, a flute of champagne always filled to the rim as you both take in the scenery of the large space. The alcohol is flowing, speeches come and gone and now people were allowing their true nature to seep out.

Beth, you were discovering, was genuine and fun. Despite the fact that she was a bit more reserved at first, she was witty and sarcastic. She could keep up with your jibs and jabs and had a keen eye that you didn’t know even if she recognized. And she was well bred. The kind of woman who grew up breathing in this money, moving in this wave of high class society but despite her upbringing, you’d never guess that this was the world that she belonged to. She could smell the insecurity, the way the people in this world had to snarl and bite and claw to stay on top.

She understood how it felt to walk into a room where you had to work twice as hard to prove your worth to people who may not even hold a candle to who you were. Simply because you were an outsider. An outsider who didn’t come from money, who’s skin was shades darker than their own, who didn’t have their breeding. You had admitted as much between your games and she had echoed that she used to struggle with the small insecure voice that kept lurking and telling you that you weren’t good enough. She figured out how to say fuck you to it, but she had worked years to get there. And she was confident you’d learn to tame the monster in you soon enough.

You really, really hoped so. Because it ruined your fucking ‘bad ass bitch’ vibes.

“Really. No diversity with this one?” Beth gives you an off handed look and you shrug.

“Amuse me.”

“Fucking the distinguished wolf, marrying the old wolf because he’s just one steak away from death anyway and killing the young wolf. We need to shift the balance of pretentious, money makers in this world.”

You can’t help the laugh that emits out of your mouth as she takes in the room, then widens her smile in amusement,

“Ok, ok, ok here’s one I’m supppppper curious about. This will really let me know what kind of men you’re into,” she wiggles her eyebrows, “Chuck Bass, Nathanial Archibald or Dan Humphrey?”

You had been sipping on champagne and the mention of the three names makes you spittle the bubbly liquid out, catching you off guard as you go for your napkin.

“Oh….of all the men in this place. Them?”

Beth quirks an eyebrow at you, leaning back on her seat as she drinks you in.

“From the sound of your incredulousness, sounds like you have a personal history.”

“Personal history,” you snort. “One of them is married to a good friend of mine, one I literally see as a brother and the last one is married to a person I wish could erase from the history of this planet. And also him. And any genetic line that might linger for either of them because that level of selfish narcissism may arguably be on par with tyrants.”

Beth nods as she takes a bite out of the rich slice of cheesecake you had both decided on sharing.

“….so you know who you’re going to kill at least….”

She’s watching you with a cautionary, hawk like stare as you sigh and lean onto the table, placing the glass down beside you.

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“All right so answer the question – MFK?”

You ignore the light vibration coming from your chest, the fifth time the small vibration has gone off. It’s either your email, your mother or the man who had captured your heart and you were having too much fine in your current state to busy yourself with either option.

“Ugh this pains me,” you grab the bottle of champagne as you fill up your flute, “But if I must. I’m killing Humphrey that goes without saying. He tries too hard to play the humble, good boy but he is just as charmed and disillusioned in this world than the people who were bred in it. That’s fine – it’s hard not to get caught up in the glitz and glamour. A wiser man wouldn’t. But own up to it rather than pretending you aren’t susceptible to it.”

You take a swig of your champagne as you think through the next choice,

“I mean…..I’m fucking Nathaniel. He’s pleasant enough and when I talk to him it’s enjoyable and of all the things he looks like a good lay which means….”

“You’d marry Chuck?” Beth asks whimsically and you nod.

“Yea. Chuck can be like a cocky pretentious douche but behind all of his smooth move grandeur he is also thoughtful, loyal and kind. Honestly of all the men in here, he is one I enjoy spending my company with the most. And there is a small number in this city that I’ve found live up to that.”

She gives a content nod as your phone goes on full buzz and you pull your phone out from its hidden bosom compartment, giving a soft smile at the photo highlighting who was blowing up your phone.

“They say good things do come with time. That was actually the most refreshing thing I’ve heard outside of that speech you gave earlier. And, I do think I’d want to have brunch with you tomorrow morning as a result. I too would choose that path. Bass can be an ass but if you prove your worth he’s a kitten.”

She takes a sip of her drink, looking at the empty champagne bottle and tsking.

“You handle whatever handsome creature keeps calling on you and I’m going to refresh our spirits. These things go on for hours and we can’t lose our energy.”

She throws you a wink and you fall back in your seat, shaking your head. Beth – you decided – was a hidden badass gem that might save you from this world yet.

Your phone vibrates on the table again and your eyes cast down to take it in, the photo of you beaming up at the screen in a L.A. hat while your lover pressed his lips to your cheeks, the one with the deep dimple he loved to smother with kisses as he wickedly smiled back at your screen. He was wearing a New York hat and the photo was taken only three months into your relationship, after a day in City Park. He had scoffed when you had answer your door in the L.A. cap but it was your roots – your home – and no matter how much he tried to convince you that New York was better could you be swayed. The day always triggered happy memories, watching hours of sea lions play because they were his favorite and holding you close as you had a literal mental breakdown from happiness watching the red pandas play because they were your favorite. In fact, you don’t remember seeing much out of that day, but it had ended sitting in the park, watching the sky burst into shades of strawberry and orange sorbet as you wrapped yourself in his arms. You had begged him to take the selfie, wanting to official document the moment he had whispered in your ear to be his girlfriend, wanting to claim you. Outside of the few friends you had made, he was the only person that made you feel grounded. Where you could truly be yourself around.

“Don’t you have an important meeting you should be in right now?”

Your voice is low and husky, the champagne drawing out a lazy drawl and he chuckles on the other end, deep and guttural that has you groaning inside.

You missed him the most after you started drinking.

“It can wait – I wanted to wish you a good night but didn’t realize you had decided to stay longer. Sorry to have harassed you with texts, just wanted to connect if you were going to bed.”

Even though he was cocky and arrogant, there was this gentler side that he only allowed to leak out when he was around you. A side that was loving, devoted and kind. His voice always got softer like it did now and you can’t help the warm way your heart glowed as you fall back in your seat, your eyes naturally tracking Beth as she walked across the room. Watching as the room departed and surveyed her in awe.

Humans had a funny way of subconsciously revealing their inner truth.

“I wasn’t. But then I met a friend and I guess I just lost track of time.”

You look down at the silver, diamond platted watch your mother had treated you to after getting your undergrad. An hour had gone by since you had texted him.

“A friend eh? You tell him that you’re spoken for?”

You could imagine him now, sitting up in his car, his eyes attentively watching the outside as he waits for your answer. He’d have a side smirk, trying to play it cool but really his eyes would be swimming with uncertainty and jealousy. For all the confidence the man held he was also extremely insecure. You had learned early on that his jealousy had steamed from his fear of losing you, not his lack of trust in you. Both were important distinctions you had made sure to align on.  

“Not like you have the right to speak for me,” a slight chuckle on his end, “But I doubt that is her prerogative. We just connected, trying to hide from all the bull shit but also feeling obligatorily trapped by the shackles of our jobs.”

You hear the sigh of relief and inwardly roll your eyes as he responds,

“Well that’s nice. I’m glad that you were able to make a new friend – I know that’s something you’ve been trying to build out since you moved out east. And Princess, remember that out of all the people in that room, you are the one that least needs to prove herself. You’re on a plane that most of the men, let alone the women couldn’t touch. Don’t let them try to intimidate you – remind them of the woman I get to see every day.”

He always knew the right words to say, always knew what would settle the uncertainty that bubbled in your gut. A few months deep into your relationship you had admitted the part of you that was slowly falling back into your former, high school self. The teenager that didn’t understand her worth and allowed herself to be swallowed in insecurity. He had held you, allowed you to cry and scold yourself from the way you were feeling, quietly assuring you and reminding you that all humans felt this way but he would never understand the challenges you encountered simply because the tones of your skin was different.

“What would I do without you?” you say softly and you can see his full lips quirk into a smile.

“Be exactly who you are right now. The amazing woman that I’m lucky enough to call my girlfriend.”

You fall into the table, resting your face on your hands as you state matter-of-factly,

“You know you’re racking up a pretty long list of all the things I’m going to reward you with when you get back into town.”

“Oh really Princess,” he chuckles, his voice dark and low, “I’m looking forward to it. God knows how much I’ve missed you. Missed thoughts thighs and those curves that make me see circles.”

You giggle, drinking in his compliment as you release a breathy sigh,

“I miss you too. So much.”

The words are earnest as you bite your bottom lip, awaiting his response. You hated the distance you had to have with him.

“I miss you too. There was a time when I had to leave New York for months and I would be instilled with relief. Now the idea of leaving New York for any period of time hurts me because it means time further away from you,” a smile plants itself on your face as he speaks a little lower into the phone. “I have to jump into a meeting Princess. And I really don’t want to ruin your time with this new friend. I’ll call you when you wake up. You can give me all the details. I love you. I love you so much. Remember me in your dreams.”

The phrase was something that had birthed the first time he had left for a long trip. The both of you hadn’t realized how much you were going to miss the other, how impacted you were by the absence of the other. You had been a mess the first night, and had been more angry at yourself for being a mess and he had stayed on the other line, coaxing you until you fell sleep, the final words sealing you in. Comforting you. After you had told him, he made it a point to say it every time you talked when either of you were out of town.

“You remind all those investors why you’re the man that you are today,” you look up, watching as Beth walks over to you with a fresh bottle of champagne in her hands, “And I love you. Down to my core. I’ll be waiting for you when you return.”

He gives a low chuckle.

“Au revoir amore. Bonne nuit.”

“Au revoir. Don’t get into too much trouble”

“Never without you.”

You laugh, but force yourself to pull the phone away, hanging up while you had the mental capacity to. Despite a meeting, Carter Baizen would keep you on the phone 24/7 if he could.

That was just how sickeningly deep in love you both were.

“That sounded like it went well.” Beth comments, taking a seat beside you and you nod as you fall back into your seat.

“It always does. Car – he’s a great guy. Sort of my rock. But we have different schedules so it’s hard to connect. He was just wishing me a good night since he’s abroad.”

You put your phone up and Beth nods,

“Hmmm well good for the both of you. It’s hard to find a good man. Does he run in these circles.” She nods her head to the crowd and you give a sigh.

“Yea…typically keeps me grounded at these kind of things. But he’s abroad doing some humanitarian work – helping to provide water and electricity to some countries affected by the increase of refugee’s coming into their country and trying to leverage more companies to invest so he had to miss out.”

“Woooooow,” Beth says, making sure to exaggerate the o. “Are you both the competing power couple of the Upper East Side?”

“Nah,” you chuckle. “We don’t need the people of this room to know our business, not really. We’re private and people can know if they want but it won’t change anything you know. We’re just two people who really love each other.”

Beth nods, taking a sip of her champagne.

“That’s fair.”

“How about you,” you push her side and wiggle your eyebrows. “Do you have a guy?”

Beth snorts.

“No! No…not because I don’t want to – just haven’t found one who’s impressed me enough. I mean quite honestly, I haven’t had a guy since…”

Her mind wanders, her big green eyes glazing over in past nostalgia, before she frowns and shakes her thick mane of hair.

“It’s no matter. I mean, I find plenty of guys to fuck but what you have, I haven’t found that yet. And I’m honestly okay with that.”

“What I find was an accident believe me. I was not planning on becoming a bitch to love, especially to Car. Though I wouldn’t change it for the world.” You smile, taking a large sip of your champagne and turning toward her,

“Now onward with this game. Rufus Humphrey, Dan Humphrey or Jack Bass?”

“Oh you are just downright evil.” Beth says with disgust, though it doesn’t disguise the large smile on her face as she sits back and reflects on her answer.

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