#also the steel resolve not to be threatened after such a tale

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 45- Enemies of the State

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

A girls’ day out leads to a discovery, and the other hermits need to know about it immediately.

__________________________________

It wasn’t often the girls got to spend time on the mainland together. They love all the hermits, but the three of them are sisters. Very strange, completely different sisters. Even if they’re just getting shipments of food and letters, it’s a break for them. Besides, Stress is the strongest hermit- she easily carries two massive bundles of foods they can’t grow on the island. 

“I need to get some alloys, think we can drop by the smith shop for me to get bricks and ball bearings?” False questions, turning to Cleo and Stress with big, pleading eyes. She wants to test out her skills she learned in Alphasguard. She’s also been using her smithing skills to ease her nerves. 

After seeing the monstrosity in the forest, after leaving it to continue to grow, her nightmares have been plagued with tentacles wrapped around trees, eyes and mouths opening up to swallow the world whole. When the nightmares become too much, the only way she can ward them off is with the light of her forge and the music of metal. She’s made half an armor set in the night alone in the time they’ve been back on Eremita. 

Thankfully, the other two are more than happy to visit the forges of Coral Shores. Plus, it’s more time to themselves, and for Stress it’s more time free from the wretched rolling of Cleo’s ship. At this point, she’d rather walk across the water than get sick over the side of the sailboat. 

“So if you’re making more weapons, think you can give a look at my saber? I think she could use some fine tuning, a bit of that good Falsie touch.” Cleo bumps False on the shoulder, rounding the corner into the dry heat of the forgery area. Stress and Cleo recoil at every bang and explosion of fire from the mouths of the forges, like maws of dragons, but False never felt more at home than in the center of the chaos. She watches a bladesmith heat treat the blade of a battleaxe, fire bursting at the oil’s surface, before cooling as the heat travels from metal to grease. It comes out slightly bent, to which the smith races to fix before the metal sets. 

At the center of the forges, a warehouse of alloys operates as the hub. Smiths come and go, picking up all kinds of metals and materials for their craft. False joins the busy bustle, nabbing bars of iron and steel, even a few bearings and sheets. False prefers to make her own tools, and she knows she’ll need some rods and ball bearings to forge a new pair of tongs. The last one she broke when she fell asleep at the forge, and they melted beyond repair. She’d have likely perished as well had it not been for Wels checking in on his friend. 

When False returns, stowing the metal in her pocket dimension for later summoning, Cleo and Stress are staring at the ground. “What did you two find?” She questions, peering over their shoulder.

At the girls’ feet, a wanted poster catches on the cobblestone, the edges of the parchment singed black by wanton flames of the forges. It’s not something they haven’t seen before, a wanted poster of Doc. Even though his days of crime and revolt are mostly past him, every once in a while some arcane guard captain stirs up the reminder that Doc escaped jail, and they print a few new ones. 

But another paper catches False’s vision, this time bearing another familiar, all though very different face. xB. She stoops down, picking up the wanted poster. She flicks the undried paste from her hands, reading it aloud to the others. “Wanted for crimes against Lairyon, treason, political divide between kipling kingdoms and Lairyon, illegal congregation of a guild, and resisting arrest.” 

Stress has disappeared around the corner, but her gasp lures the other two to see what she’s staring at, wide eyed and shaking in her fuzzy boots. 

The entire wall of the tavern is covered in wanted posters. Every last face on each unique poster depicting every last hermit- including Jellie. Mumbo’s depiction is the most accurate, though his mustache is a little off. But whoever designed these sketches got the multi-mage’s constant look of concern down pat. They also notice who carries the heaviest price on their head. Grian, with almost a million rupees more than anyone else, his wings talking up most of the picture. 

False pulls down her own picture, tucking a blonde lock of hair behind the glass and metal of her goggles. She reads of the list of crimes she’s been charged with. Treason, theft, crimes against the Council and government, illegal congregation of a guild, resisting arrest, mercenary activity, illegal manufacture of weapons… the list goes on and on, more and more bullshit than the last. Most of these are laws she’s never heard of, or are so dated she’s sure they were dredged up from the early history of Lairyon. 

And at the bottom of every last wanted poster was the personal signature and insignia of the Magistrate of Lairyon. Dolios himself created these orders, and the Council approved them. She feels her heart stop, her head swimming, a sensation of vertigo as she realizes what this means. 

The hermits are wanted criminals. Not just lawbreakers, but Lairyon’s most wanted. “We need to get back to Eremita. Now.” 

“I knew things were going on with the Council, but I didn’t expect this.” TFC picks up his wanted poster, brushing out his beard and shaking his head. It’s clear the artist that drew this has no clue how to style dwarven hair. 

“I had heard rumors that there’s discord between the guildmasters of the Council. Do you think our work is affecting them?” Xisuma is half perched on the side of TFC’s desk, rifling through all twenty-something  papers in search of his. He pulls it out, looking at the masked face before him. His fingers brush the corner of the rendition where the mark of him and his brother would be, then runs his fingers over the scratched out metal on his face. 

“Perhaps Dolios is putting more pressure on them to maintain their power, to hinder us. Put enough stress on anything, and even a diamond will fracture.” TFC hums. “Well, as bad as this looks on the outside, we can also take this as good news.” 

“Good news? How in the world are we supposed to take being Lairyon’s Most Wanted as good news?” Cleos snorts, waving a green hand at the stack. Her’s is the only one that says ‘wanted undead or dead’. 

“Because it means it’s working. We’re backing Dolios into a corner. He’s threatened by us. It’s not just enough to deal with us on his own, now he wants all of Lairyon to do his bidding.” TFC stands, quite proud. All of their time spent breaking crystals, hunting down husks, and now discovering the monster in the forest is showing results. So much work, and it’s finally starting to crack his resolve. 

“What do we do about this?” Stress whispers. “The arcane guard and most of Lairyon will be after our heads. That’s a lot of money on each of us.” 

“We keep doing our work.” TFC walks out of the cave he calls home, standing in the sunlight and watching the other hermits train. “When isn’t the arcane guard after us? But the more work we do to stop Dolios and whatever he plans to do with that… abomination, the more we help the people of Lairyon, the less inclined they’ll be to turn us in.” 

“We’re already the champions of the Chimaera’s Cup.” Xisuma points out. Would people see their fall from grace as the pitfalls of victory, or would they read more into the lies spread by their leader. 

“And the Asklepions. Shellor, the other teams from the championship.” False straightens her shoulders, thinking of the people they’ve met so far. “They know we aren’t the villains of this story.” 

“It’s not much, but it’s a start.” TFC nods, and waves to Xisuma. “Keep working on finding more information about darkness. He thinks this will stop us- we’re just getting started.”

[narniagiftexchange]

                                              exceptions.

                              THE AUTUMN NARNIAN GIFT EXCHANGE.

(G-rated, no NSFW, K-language, one-shot, contains Reepicheep, Prince Caspian, and the Pevensies, and is in Reepicheep’s POV)

                         for   @luxaofhesperides from  @noctusfury.

Note to Recipient: I have to admit that this was a little challenging for me, in a good way. I had never written anything with Reepicheep or wrote it in his POV, so I had to do some homework and learn to write in his voice. I also struggled with what exactly I wanted to go with this fanfic, not knowing what theme or scene or film that I wanted to do this in. However, I managed to find it in this fic and I hope I did Reepicheep justice. Thank you in advance for your gift, and I hope that my own gift for you will give you as much joy and pleasure as yours did me. May you be in the Great Lion’s Paws.

As a young mouseling, Reepicheep had many expectations. He expected to be warm; expected to be safe; expected to be fed; expected to get a pleasant night’s rest; expected his brothers and sisters to quit shoving him; expected to grow up big and strong like his parents yesterday; expected his parents to come at his beck and call.

But the greatest of all his expectations was this: Reepicheep, more than anything else, expected to be told the legends of the Four Kings and Queens of Narnia. Every night, without fail; he couldn’t sleep unless his parents or his nanny told him one of the Narnian legends from their past.

Such were his expectations.

And told them, they did, for this scion that would be the future leader of their Clan of Mice, for nothing was withheld from him (indeed, this vice would end up coming back to bite him when he was older). And Reepicheep was fortunate in having parents every bit as valiant and bold as he was, and also had a deep devotion and love for Narnia and its history. And so, they never tired of telling the tales of yore again and again… and again, and again, and again.

Such were his expectations.

Reepicheep loved hearing the legends concerning the Golden Age, when Aslan defeated the White Witch, their enemies were routed, and the Four Monarchs of Narnia, known as the Pevensies, were crowned and ruled Narnia for a long time.

He heard the tales of Queen Susan the Gentle, of the beauty and grace that flowed from her like a gown (according to legend, she was said to have been the reincarnation of Swanwhite, one of the Ancient Queens of Narnia, before the White Witch took over), and such was her influence that quarrelling tongues and fists of dissention were stilled and silent before her majesty. And such was her beauty, that kings and princes, lords and dukes fought wars (and even instigated some) in order to claim her as a bride — the most infamous of which was Prince Rabadash the Ridiculous of the Calormen Empire. She was also renowned for the balls that she put together in bygone days.

Foremost of the Tales were of her and the Queen Lucy’s involvement concerning Aslan: witnessing His Death and Resurrection, of their accompanying the Great Lion on His back — the greatest of honors, Reepicheep thought — to the then-abandoned Witch’s Castle and freed all Narnians that had been turned to stone and, led by Aslan, raced to Beruna and overturned the tides of war, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. There were other stories concerning the Queen Susan, but they were of such content that was of no interest to Reepicheep (and try as one might, there weren’t many stories concerning the Queen Susan to begin with, due to her remaining in Cair Paravel for most of their reign save for the occasional trip to Anvard in Archenland to meet the Royal Family there).

He heard the tales of Queen Lucy the Valiant, of how she was the first Human and the First of the Monarchs to enter Narnia since the Elder Days, and how she met Mr. Tumnus and later the Beavers. The stories also told of the unique relationship she had with the Great Lion of Narnia, the High King of all High Kings — Aslan — and of how, of all her siblings, was given the name “Lioness”.

He heard the tales of her skills as a healer, with her cordial of the rare Fire Flower, from which one drop was send to cure all ills and injuries — even bring them back from the brink of death (proven in King Edmund’s case), and of her valiance in many a battle as she led the archers, and, yes, even in the thick of the fighting; and of how despite the High King’s misgivings, she was eventually allowed to join her brothers in the hells of war.

But the stories concerning the Queen Lucy that most tugged at Reepicheep’s spirit was of her adventures and journeys traveling the great Eastern Sea, of which was her domain. The song that his Dryad nanny sang to him, pertaining to him, wooed him ever more into these particular tales, and it gave him a deep and insatiable longing to sail to the East, to the end of the known world — to Aslan’s Country. (However, as he grew older, Reepicheep would learn that such dreams would have to wait until a Son of Adam comes to rule Narnia once more and bring her back to its former glory.)

He heard the tales of King Edmund the Just, who had betrayed his siblings to the White Witch, but later repented of his crimes and was pardoned by the Great Lion, later proving himself in the Battle of Beruna; valiant were the tales that detailed the Just King’s achievements, of how he had fought with a lion’s ferocity in the desperate fight at the Rocks of Beruna in the battle, of how he slew three Ogres much bigger than him as he ran to intercept the White Witch and save his brother’s life, of how he destroyed Jadis’s wand with his sword and nearly gave his life to not only rescue his brother and atone for his wrongs, but to also help give his people some sort of advantage.

And let us not forget the stories afterward, of his wisdom and sense of justice that was renowned in all corners of the world; of his power and skill as a diplomat, having a tongue of silver that calmed even the most temperamental politician or ruler and helped wrangle peace or trade with many nations for the benefit of Narnia — a tool that could turn into cold, biting steel to intimidate potential or current enemies; and of the tales of his battles, alone or with his Royal Brother the High King, and of his tactical cunning and ferocity in battle. One of the highlights of his career as a warrior was in the Battle of Anvard against the Calormene forces led by Rabadash, and defeating him in single combat in a quite effortless manner (or so Reepicheep thought). Some of his most favorite stories of King Edmund was, predictably, those of the tournaments and contests of arms that the Kings had participated throughout their reigns.

The stories also spoke of the everlasting love and loyalty between the two brothers. So strong was their bond that they were said to almost be the same person, as one being. Rare was the occasion that one Brother was separate from the other, and the Just King was the High King’s shadow wherever he went. Their bond of kinship was such that the young and irrepressible Reepicheep made the solemn resolve to have such kinship with his own siblings (and I’m afraid he was rather overzealous in that endeavor).

But the Tales of Yore that Reepicheep had great expectations to be told before bedtime were concerning only one Pevensie: High King Peter the Magnificent. It was these tales above all else that most fascinated Reepicheep, had him sit, enthralled, with wide eyes full of awe and admiration, as his parents and even his nanny told him story after story of the High King of Narnia — the first and only High King, save for Aslan Himself.

Many a tale was said of the brilliant radiance shining forth from him, as if the Sun had come from the heavens down to Earth, instilling awe and respect among his subjects and allies, and fear and hatred from his enemies; of how his mere presence would silence every tongue and deed in any room with a confident and commanding aura; and of the many deeds in his reign in building roads, schools, homes, entire towns, and even harbors with fleets of ships.

There were tales, too, of his fell temper — of how quick he was to anger should anyone threaten or bring harm to his Royal Siblings or to his people, and often had to take his younger brother to calm him down to reason. (I’m afraid that this was one of the vices that Reepicheep would inherit from his idol and King, and would eventually have to learn to temper it in later years.)

However, the tales that Reepicheep was most eager to hear — and the stories which would seal his destiny for eternity — were those of his feats in battle and deeds of renown: the famous Battle of Beruna, of his duel with Maugrim and later the White Witch, of the many skirmishes against the Fell-Beasts ever after, of his wars against the Giants of Ettinsmoor and Harfang, and against the menacing Calormen Empire — and let us not forget of the High King’s numerous contests and tournaments with other knights and rulers of valor and chivalry!

Yes, it was these tales that would mold Reepicheep into a valiant Knight of Narnia. While the Kings and Queens that were his inspiration were long gone in the immortal sands of time, Narnia was still here — different, yes, but here all the same. The creatures, too, were still here — in hiding, but alive, and planning their one last gamble to reclaim Narnia for their own. Narnia was in need of saving. Narnia was in need of a Hero — a valiant Knight capable of great and mighty needs, and perform many an act of mercy, honor, and kindness. A Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion — like the High King Peter!

This was his expectation, to be like the great High King, his hero and mentor, and fight to free Narnia as in the days of the Winter Revolution. To fight as if he was one of the Knights of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, knighted personally by the High King himself! Who knows? Mayhap what was could come again, and the Kings and Queens of Narnia would return through the cries of Queen Susan’s Horn, as the legends have said.

Reepicheep had many expectations, but even that would be expecting too much of the universe! Wouldn’t it?

But despite this, Reepicheep believed, and hoped, and persevered, as all optimists do, and have done, in every age through time eternal.

This was to be expected.

<><><><><><><>

This wasn’t what he expected — not in a thousand years!

Reepicheep wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he ran to defend Prince Caspian from some unknown assailant (aside from it being Telmarines, for who else would be attacking Narnians in an underhanded, cowardly ambush?), but never in his wildest dreams did he expect to be standing in the presence of High King Peter the Magnificent and his Royal Siblings!

The young Mouse — now a full-fledged Knight of Narnia like his father, and his father’s father, and his father before him, and so forth — just stood there in awe, sword drawn, mouth agape (he was fortunate that none of his comrades noticed his discourteous demeanor in favor of focusing on the Monarchs; completely unbecoming of a Knight!) as his dark eyes drank in the beautiful sight of the Pevensies in all their glory.

Prince Caspian’s comment broke him from his shameful behavior (only to be scandalized by it a moment later): “…I’d thought you’d be older.”

Reepicheep gaped at Prince Caspian, completely flabbergasted. This was not what he had expected from the young King-to-Be. That’s not the sort of thing one says to Royalty. So what if the Kings and Queens of Narnia are a bit on the young side? Prince Caspian was one to talk, not yet eight-and-ten himself!

“If you’d like, we could leave and come back in a few years…” Now, he’s done it! Only five minutes in, and His Royal Highness has insulted the High King of Narnia!

“No-No! It-It’s not that,” Prince Caspian assured him hurriedly. “You’re all just… not what I had expected.” He’s done it again! Has His Highness never learned court etiquette, or did they just neglect to teach him the finer things?

Reepicheep briefly heard the younger, dark-haired King — King Edmund — direct a similar comment towards one of the Minotaurs (which was completely understandable, in Reepicheep’s mind, as he didn’t fully trust the creatures himself), before hurrying off to rescue Prince Caspian from further shaming himself with his deplorable decorum.

“We have anxiously awaited your return, My Liege,” And it was true, they did. And according to knightly behavior and code of conduct, he gracefully bowed from the waist with a paw to his heart as he said, “Our hearts and swords are at your service.”

However, any further conversation was halted when his sensitive ears picked up someone using the Forbidden Word: “…He is so cute.”

Immediately, he brandished his sword and interrogated all and sundry with the point of his blade. “Who said that!?” he demanded.

“Oh… Sorry.” Reepicheep turned to see that it was the youngest Monarch, the Queen Lucy, who had spoken the words with an apologetic (and slightly amused) smile gracing her features as she clasped her hands together on her gown.

Realizing that he had made an outburst and drew his sword in front of the Queens, and wanting to make it clear that he meant no offense towards the Valiant Queen, he said: “Your Majesty, with the greatest respect,” he even made a gallant, courteous bow towards his Queen to show that he, did, in fact, have the greatest respect towards her, “I do believe ‘courageous,’ 'courteous,’ or-or 'chivalrous,’ might more befit a Knight of Narnia.” And with a twirl of the blade, he sheathed it back into its scabbard.

“Well, at least we know some of you can handle a blade.” the High King remarked. His expression was pleased and looked impressed by his skill.

Reepicheep beamed. “Yes, indeed,” was the casual reply, wholly pleased with himself. And wanting to put himself even more in his hero’s favor, Reepicheep continued: “And I have recently put it into good use, securing weapons for your army, Sire.” There! That is how one spoke to Royalty — particularly those who’d disappeared for a thousand years. I hope you’re taking notes, Your Highness.

“Good. Because we’re going to need every sword we can get.”

As the High King then turned to speak to Prince Caspian, Reepicheep took that as his cue to step back into the background and hoped that the young prince at least learned from his mistakes and didn’t insult the High King further than he obviously already had.

Granted, Their Majesties weren’t what he expected — and he certainly didn’t expect to meet them along the way back to Aslan’s Howe. Reepicheep himself didn’t understand why the Pevensies returned to Narnia back to their child selves when they had first been coronated. It seemed rather counterintuitive and also puts Their Royal Majesties in a serious disadvantage. But he assumed that Aslan must have a really good reason, and, naturally, one doesn’t question the goings on instigated by the Great Lion. If He wanted the Four Monarchs of Narnia to return as their old child selves, who was Reepicheep to protest against it? Perhaps it was Aslan’s way of making sure that the Narnians recognized them? It was cyclical, he was sure. He remembered the Old Stories told to him by his parents, and his nurse, and compared the two: the Pevensies came to Narnia to start a Revolution, dethrone a tyrant, free Narnia, and rule as her Kings and Queens; and they returned to Narnia during yet another Revolution to dethrone a tyrant, free Narnia, and instill the Prince Caspian as the new King of Narnia (though Reepicheep hoped that Their Majesties would stay afterwards) — history repeats itself in more ways than we think.

As Reepicheep soaked in the radiant presence of Their Majesties, the High Kings and High Queens of Narnia, he realized that they had superseded his expectations. None of them were what he had expected — they were greater than he could have ever hoped or dreamed. The Monarchs of Old Narnia that were in the Legends irrevocably paled in comparison to their real-life transcendent splendor and majesty! And a bold hope grew in the Mouse Chieftain, then — a hope that Aslan has heard their prayers and answered them by sending them the Saviors of a previous Age, and the Knight of Narnia knew beyond a shadow of a whisker’s doubt that with them on their side, chances of victory had gotten much more favorable.

Yes, they had exceeded his expectations. In every respect.

But that, of course, was to be expected.

[astrales]

I decided to write youta’s character stories and details, so they will be under the cut bc, whoops, it got long !

character details: a mysterious and enigmatic man from the land of inazuma, youta now takes up temporary residence in liyue harbor. he’s something of an adventurer, travelling form place to place and doing odd jobs, though not all adventurers would find themselves doing shady deals with shadier people. 

while not very sociable, they are willing to lend an ear or naginata to anyone needing their help. it seems he has unfinished business, but it’s unclear what his true motives are. knowledgeable and skilled, youta could easily be compared to some renegade hero from an old tale. whether he is one or not, is up to the people he comes into contact with.

story 1: before escaping to mainland teyvat, youta ( known as aoki in inazuma ) was the head chef at uyuu restaurant. because of this, he knows how to cook quite a large variety of inazuman dishes. now, in his free time, he likes to learn and perfect liyue and mondstadt dishes. while he would never admit to it, it allows him to return to some sense of normalcy, whatever that was. once he thought about applying for a job at another restaurant, but he doesn’t stay put long enough to hold a singular job.

at inazuma, however, he was quite well known for the care he put into his dishes. while no one knows of his true origins, many of the locals know that aoki looked far younger than he should for working at the restaurant for well over 40 years. he’s never spoken about it, but the locals liked to think of him as “the everlasting bachelor” for never seeing him date another person. turns out when you’re well liked, the patrons don’t question you much. that, and aoki was well known for helping people flee inazuma inside food crates up until he left himself ( and even then, he has systems in place and loyal friends to help anyone wanting to escape still ). now, the patrons at uyuu wonder what ever happened to their beloved aoki.

story 2: despite wearing clothes more aligned with liyue or mondstadt, youta is always seen with a haori draped over otherwise foreign attire. it’s undoubtedly odd to see traditional inazuma wear outside of the country, but youta wanted at least one part of his culture to remain even outside the borders. his haoris vary in detail and extravagance, but his favorite and most worn is a dark green one with a pine tree pattern, the kanji for protection a bright white and largely printed on the back. it reminds him of home, and a past long forgotten.

the makers of his haoris, narajiro and shakuhachi, are fellow refugees from inazuma and some of the people he wholeheartedly trusts. the unkaku family are in fact the only people that have learned about his true identity, sworn to secrecy and willing to help youta with whatever he needs. out of all the places youta goes, he goes to their shop the most frequently. in addition to making and repairing his clothes, they also share valuable intel with youta, and in turn he does whatever they want with him. in a world where promises and bonds are often broken, he is thankful to have a few people he can count on.

story 3: having left inazuma approximately one year ago, after the vision hunt decree was put in place, aoki fled on a merchant boat to liyue. he could’ve stayed and saved other people, as he thinks about at night, but his true identity being discovered would only cause more trouble. so, now in liyue and going by youta, he began his journey to get stronger. he had originally planned to stay at wangshu inn or qingce village, but ultimately decided on staying at liyue harbor for the easy port access.

in his somewhat short time living in liyue harbor, youta has begun to think of it of a home away from home. the way of life there is starkly different than life back at inazuma, but it’s grown on him. he rarely spends time in the city, but he lets himself enjoy the hustle and bustle of the city life once in a while. he doesn’t plan on staying long once he’s able to go back home, but maybe he’ll return for a pleasure trip and say hello to some new friends.

story 4: in times like these, the loneliness threatens to swallow youta whole. having to live for thousands of years, never dying, and watching countless people come and go and die gets to even the most distant of people. as one of the few remaining old gods still alive, even undercover, youta couldn’t help but feel like time was moving too slow and too fast at the same time. after the “death” of rex lapis, the loneliness only worsened. while he was never close to the geo archon, nor did the archon know that he was in fact still alive, the pain that stabbed his heart was worse than any mortal wound. with each passing day, the world youta knew slipped further and further away.

in the days where he feels lost, youta finds himself at the edge of the ocean. as the waves gently wash over his feet, youta remembers that out there, somewhere, his home is out there and a countless number of people suffering. knowing his people were under the tyrannical rule of the inazuma bakufu reignites his motivation, and like the earth, ceases to give in to the pain. with naginata in hand, youta steels his resolve to save his people.

story 5: in his time of living and protecting the people of inazuma, many folktales and legends have been made about a deity known as saruta ( derived from sarutahiko ōkami ). some legends tell of him slaying giant catfish, or him defeating an entire invading army with a single poisonous thorn. the truth or accuracy of the tales is up for debate. as a thank you for protecting the common folk of inazuma for thousands of years, the people began to dot the countryside with blue evergreen trees, a symbol and a hope for everlasting protection.

however, after his death, the trees that were once a symbol of hope became a memorial. as baal took over, and with their protector gone, the people of inazuma look towards the tall pines in a prayer that one day saruta would come back to save them. little do they know, their hope isn’t lost yet. across the ocean, youta yearns to see the blue trees once again.

[geekmedium]

Jack Kirby’s Jimmy Olsen

So I just got through reading the first omnibus in Jack Kirby’s Fourth World saga. I’m gonna try to make my way through every last one in order to see what the big deal is and analyze why they have such imaginative power while other Jack Kirby creations like the Eternals went down the memory hole.

And honestly this isn’t an auspicious way to start. I had wondered for a while why Jimmy Olsen isn’t really recommended in the New Gods Saga and now I know why. It’s barely a New Gods book. The only connections to the New Gods are:

Mokkari and Simyan as the recurring antagonists

Morgan Edge working for Darkseid (which isn’t resolved in this book)

Lightray appearing for a scene

Clark spending an issue in New Genesis

A few references to the Forever People

Not exactly the best intro to the War of the New Gods. In fact I would describe this book more as New Gods clean up. It spends more time dealing with threats that are the spillover of war rather than confronting the war directly.

The real through line of these tales is “The Project.” A genetics facility that would later be known as Project Cadmus.

Mokkari and Simyan create threats based on Cadmus tech. Superman and Jimmy deal with the monsters of a Cadmus scientist. We meet the D.N.Alien Dubbilex who investigates a secret passage to Cadmus. Heck the entire story starts with Jimmy investigating a wildness group that uses technology left over from Cadmus. If you’re someone who likes Project Cadmus then this is a highly recommended collection for you.

I think the biggest revelation was that Superman was a partner and firm advocate for the Project. Literally every piece of superhero media I’ve watched portrayed Project Cadmus as morally dubious at best, so it’s kind of surreal that Kirby intended them to be good guys. Especially since a lot of stuff they do in this book is still morally dubious. They create human clones (seemingly without permission) and employ mad scientists. Some of their soldiers are children or teens and they seem really intent on keeping all this literal life changing tech undercover. It’s kind of wild that Kirby framed all of this in the narrative as morally good without questioning it at all. Then again, wasn’t eugenics a well thought of science back in the day? I figured it died out in the 50s or so, but maybe a lot of people still agreed with it in the early 70s.

Anyway, the real reason why I think Project Cadmus is the focal point is that it allowed Kirby to work where he shines brightest. Big ideas.

Someone once described Jack Kirby as a hundred ideas per square inch, and it’s hard to disagree when reading through this. Small planets, D.N.Aliens, the Habitat, Zoomway, and the solar phone are just some of the inventions that fill the pages of this collection and I purposely left out the stuff connected with New Gods like the Boom Tube. But more than just making cool technology, Jack gave Superman cool threats.

It can be hard coming up with challenges for any incarnation of the Man of Steel, and I have to imagine the Bronze Age one was one of the hardest. But reading through these I’m amazed with how rarely I felt the threat was below Superman. And I think that comes down to the fact that rarely was Kirby trying to write a cosmic wrestling match. His solution to problems had a more cerebral element to them, and required Superman to get creative or even occasionally play for a more peaceful resolution. I think my favorite was when he saved Cadmus from a collection of atomic energy eaters in like 10 seconds.

In fact, Kirby wrote an absolutely fantastic Superman. Strong, clever, mature, creative, kind, and badass. I said it can be hard to write for Superman, and I think a lot of comic writers think that decreasing him makes him work better, but Kirby knew that all you really have to do is make the threats bigger. And this cosmic war of gods, with Earth as just a casualty in the way, is about as big as you can get. And as a result, the Superman that emerges here is all the stronger for facing these threats as they come one by one while also trying to help start a whole new branch of science that these monsters threaten or distort. While this isn’t much of a New Gods book, I consider it a bit of a hidden classic for Bronze Age Superman stories.

But what about the titular character of Jimmy Olsen? Well honestly, he really ends up playing a side character in his own book. And I’m fine with that, because I think Jimmy only really works as a spotlight character once every couple dozen of issues, but if you are reading these stories for him, you’ll probably be disappointed. It’s not that he has nothing to do, but when your book has New Gods and Superman and genetic warfare and interdimensional schemes of every shape and size, you’re just gonna have to play second or even third billing. To be fair, no other main player in the Superman mythos can really tag along either. Lois is nowhere to be seen, I think Perry White only shows up once, and while Morgan Edge is a small antagonists, he really only acts as an orchestrator instead of a major player. They are all gone to make room for the Newsboy Legion.

And man do the Newsboy Legion just barge into the story. Sometimes literally.

Kirby seemed to really want to make them a thing again like when he wrote them in the 40s. It kind of reminds me of how J.M. DeMatteis tried to put Vermin in a lot of his stories. And just like with Vermin, they really end up over staying their welcome.

They were fine in the first two or three issues, but around the time the Outsiders (no not those Outsiders, a different one) exit the story, the NL should have left too. They could return for a story or two, but no more. Instead Kirby makes sure they appear in every single story in this omnibus, including ones where they aren’t really needed. Oh no! Jimmy has been ambushed and Clark has been sent off to Apokolips with no way to return. Quick, let’s go see what hijinks the Newsboy Legion are getting up to. Like, I don’t hate them, and giving Superman super wacky kids who support him in his adventures isn’t a setup I’m adverse to, since that’s basically what Jimmy was for the Silver/Bronze Age. But man, the 70s slang and rapscallion attitude you see in the panel above is only a little of what shows up, and it gets really grating after a while.

On top of that were some other weird cast choices. I actually really like the Golden Guardian’s setup as a genetically made man with memories implanted with those of a dead man. I really looked forward to him relearning his past life while making a new one in Metropolis as much needed backup for Superman. But he honestly ends up as just a kind of Captain America clone

He also ends up just dropping out of the story later on. Not even leaving, it’s just that one scene he is with Superman exploring the city and the next Superman is off exploring a secret tunnel with Dubbilex and not-Lois character Terry Dean.

And speaking of Terry Dean I find it just hilarious that she is in this panel. Superman and the others are exploring secret entrances and contemplating literal apocalyptic war, and she’s just kind of...there. For those who don’t know or care, according to my research she is a character who showed up once before Kirby came on the Jimmy title, twice after he left it, and then one more time eighteen years later as a deep cut in Superman vol 2. #46.

If I seem to be nitpicking, it’s just that it’s so weird Kirby would go for this character instead of bringing in Lois. And he includes another weird character named Goody Rickels for like two or three issues for a story arc I’m gonna have to reread just to understand what the point of it was.

Still, ignoring these flaws, the Jack Kirby’s Jimmy Olsen Omnibus is a recommend if for nothing else than the fact that it is a good set of Superman stories with incredibly inventive and creative plots that hint at a larger world on the horizon. And I honestly can’t wait to tackle that new world of New Gods.

[thetailorofenbizaka]

Chapter 1–The Tale of the Scissors, Act 2: Exchange; Scene 4

The Tailor of Enbizaka, pages 46-50

One morning, after several weeks had passed, Kayo visited the Freezis Trading House on the top of the hill, carrying a bundle with her.

This was the first time that Kayo had come here, even including before the trading house had been rebuilt—that is, before the great fire.

There weren’t many people before the front gate.

As Kayo hesitated over whether or not she could just walk inside, a single petite woman came out from inside.

“YEAH~, it’s GREAT MORNING. Got feeling that there’ll be DRAMATIC meeting TODAY!”

The woman was speaking to herself in a loud voice. Judging from her fragmented speaking patterns, there was little doubt that she was a foreigner.

Kayo instantly hid her face. Despite feeling a bit hesitant, she steeled her resolve and spoke up to her.

“Do you have a minute, young miss?”

When she did, the woman’s face grew suddenly displeased, and she grabbed at Kayo.

“YOU! YOU call ME ‘YOUNG MISS’!? You think I’M child, DO YOU?”

“Ah, no…”

Kayo was so surprised at the threatening attitude that she forgot to hide her face.

“Despite my APPEARANCE I am SPLENDID LADY with SON in my homeland! And I am LEADER of this trading house! You WATCH YOUR TONE!”

“Huh? Then does that mean you are…Perrier-san?”

“INDEED! The chief executive of the Akuna region of the Freezis Foundation Firm’s Maistia branch, Perrier Cutie Marlon, IS ME!” Perrier replied, puffing out her chest.

“I see…Then let me offer my deepest and most sincere gratitude for your enormous assistance in the reconstruction of Enbizaka. Thanks to you and yours, I am almost able to reopen my tailor shop.”

Kayo bowed her head to Perrier.

“GREAT, JUST GREAT! We need to STICK TOGETHER! And why you come here today, HM? TAILOR-SAN?”

“I have…something to deliver to an acquaintance who works here—”

“--? What’s THE name?”

“…I was made to understand that a certain Bufuko has been working here for the past several weeks.”

“Ah, then—”

Right at that point, another person came out of the trading house

“Perrier-sama! I have something to ask you…Oh, what’s this? Kayo-san!”

It was Bufuko.

“My my, I’m so glad to have run into you—I’ve come here with the outfit that you requested,” Kayo said, dashing up to Bufuko.

Watching them from the side, Perrier uttered, “Well then. I’M going TO my MORNING RUNNING!”

Perrier went to jog down the hill.

“Ah…Even though I just told her I had something I wanted to ask…Oh well.” Bufuko turned once again towards Kayo. “You’ve finished my maid uniform!”

“Yes. I told you before, but this is the first foreign outfit I have made. I don’t know if I did very well, but…”

As Kayo spoke, she opened up the bundle she was carrying and showed its contents to Bufuko.

From inside was a high-quality maid uniform, with black as its base color.

“Waah…” Bufuko took it in hand, eyes sparkling. “This is great! Truly a fantastic look! Thank you, Kayo-san…I’ll get changed right away!”

Bufuko ran inside the trading house, carrying the maid uniform.

“Ha ha…Thank goodness, seems it was well-received.”

Kayo laughed to herself, alone before the front gate.

--When she did, new figures again came out of the building.

This time it was a man and a woman.

“What’s this—I come out here, thinking there’s some commotion out front…Kayo, why are you—Ah, perhaps you’ve made Bufuko’s clothing like you were talking about back then.”

The man was Anan.

He had apparently started working for Perrier with the intention of showing the Okuto family’s gratitude for the aid that the Freezis Foundation firm had provided…and also because he himself had an interest in foreign culture.

And as for the woman—Well, I’ve no need to explain that to you.

“Oh?...Is this the ‘Sudou Kayo’-san that you’ve told me about, Anan?”

This foreign woman who spoke fluent Jakokuese--

Elluka Ma Clockworker.

It was you there.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[simplysoriya]

The Eternal Serpent

{Prologue, 1, 2, 3, interlude, 4, 5} 

Chapter 6: The Temple

In deep ocean, currents were powerful and always in motion just above the surface. Vast and endless bodies of water pushed themselves, unchanging, in the direction that they always had. There was something ancient and unyielding about the way nature operated. Changed by nothing but itself. Songs were written about the sea in ways men speak of lovers, both soothing enough that every sailor kept it close to their heart and all fiercely respected it borne of fear. 

Sailors wrote songs about the sea as if they were lovers. The gentle embrace and feeling of freedom that came with the life of wind in their hair and the sun on the horizon. But they also spun tales of the harsh and unforgiving ocean and the fury of storms that had swallowed up so many of their kind, instilling both fear and respect. 

Such was the duality of the ocean. 

But below? There was calm and serene in the gentle embrace of salt water that wrapped all that dare to plunge in. Leaving them surrounded from head to toe aimlessly floating amongst the endless miles of nothing but sea.

Each paddle taken downward was colder than the last. The vibrant sun with both light and warmth strangled by the ever encroaching sea. Leaving the seafloor blotched with stretches of white sands and underwater flora right along with spanning pits of empty black trenches where the light dare not tread.

It was far from the sunny beaches of Stranglethorn or the temperate shorelines of Tanaris…

Pressure began to wrack at her muscles producing involuntary contractions and tension as she braved the large trench that seemed to taper off into oblivion. Her lungs began begging for air needily with each second spent below the waves. But still she persisted deeper down the underwater cliff face with nothing but stubborn determination and a sense of hope.

After all, the alternative was a boat full of pirates still waiting for her up above. Undoubtedly already preparing to pursue her.

Running parallel to the jagged rock wall that led to the dark depths below light became scarce. Soriya remembered the reading light she had snagged from the goblin Quartermaster before. Fishing into her pocket to pull the small enchanted stone free, holding it in her palm with a gentle squeeze before a soft yellow light leaked from between her fingers. 

It wasn’t much but it was enough to light her way as she explored down into the deeps further and further still.

Scrolling over the expanses of rocks was a daunting task with a limited window. Without diving gear or an extra tank of oxygen only gave her so much time to find the temple she sought. But it was all she had as others threatened to use the legend to their own ends and snatch the find from right under her. She couldn’t just accept defeat after coming so far, after doing so much, after investing so much of her life into finding it…

It was now or never.

It wasn’t until that dull light scanned over a smoother stone then the rest that hope was reignited fervently. A smooth banner rested far too perfect for it to be made from the ocean itself. Swimming down she investigated further only to find an old and broken down statue, full of pores and beaten by the passage of time spent underwater. But there was no mistaking the markings of a Pandarian cloud serpent.

She had finally found it; The Temple of the Eternal Serpent.

The crawling swim through the Temples rocky, dilapidated, and dark entrance seemed to go on forever. She thought her lungs would explode in her chest as anxiety began to wrack at her mind. It hadn’t even crossed her mind, despite its oceanic grave, that the whole temple may be underwater. A severe misstep in her plan that only darkened her thoughts as she desperately continued, knowing full well that she wouldn’t make it to the surface in time to replenish her air supply.

In the darkness, however, there was a glimmer of hope as the tunnel narrowed and led upward. Leaving a shimmering ripple of light against the surface of the water. Swiftly Soriya swam toward salvation as her lungs bucked and bubbles of the last of her air escaped her mouth making her chest heave and spasm.

A deep and needful gasp for breath immediately followed as the young monk resurfaced in the Temples entrance with a splash. Relenting to lay on the stone plateau sprawled out as half of her body remained beneath the water. Coughing and sputtering as she wheezed in air enough to fill her chest. It was like the whole world went black for just a moment as she desperately tried to normalize her breathing.

Eventually, once she felt well enough, Soriya squared her arms with her shoulders and lifted herself out from the pool that almost was her end. Soon scrambling to the first available surface to rest her back on as she continued to recover. 

Fending off the excitement over the find proved to be a downhill battle. Here she was, standing where legend was born. The setting of a story she had heard so long ago. A place so many others had sought out only to fail. But here she was. History was within her grasp, if only her lungs would get on the same page as her mind. 

Still weary she pushed on, even as her body rebelled against the very thought. She was too close now, she had gone through too much to take a break.

Stubbornly she pressed on down the dark hallway made of ancient stone. She recognized the familiarity of it as large blocks lay on top of one another in a near perfect pattern, held up by smooth and rounded pillars that the Pandarian often use in their infrastructure. Nothing but her stolen reading light in hand to lend to the dim light that radiated from scriptures on the wall.

Her mind raced as it filled with what awaited her deeper within. The legend had spoke of three trials she would face once within these walls. One of strengths, one of will, and a third that was shrouded in mystery. Each having a unique challenge that was never expanded on in any text she had read.

Arriving at the first room in the temple Soriya was greeted with a wondrous, large and grand antechamber. Six pillars stood flanking the room arranged in a circle with a single plaque situated in the center of them. On the other side of the room, at first glance, was simply an imposing door sealed off with a large stone slab.

As she stepped into the chamber Soriya’s eyes lit with awe as she spun in stride to take in all the room had to offer. Murals of the Jade Serpent sprawled out over the smooth faces of the walls behind the pillars depicting Fe’lon, The Eternal Serpent, finding his home in the mountains and settling down. Presumably to this very spot.

Drifting closer to the murals, a stark reminder that she wasn’t alone in her pursuits hung heavy. As much as she wanted to soak in every aspect of the fabled temple there was hardly time with the threat of treasure seekers looming in the back of her mind.

A dejected sigh rumbled as she lowered her head toward the ground. Making her way to the center chamber, those teal eyes of hers longingly drifted toward the piece of pandarian culture that had been swallowed up by the sea and lost by time, whimsically staring as if she was saying goodbye to an old friend.

With a brush of her hand to clear the modest amount of dust that covered the plaque, Soriya scanned over their words for a clue that would lead her further into the temple. It was written in old pandarian, but she could still make out the words after a little study. Quietly she read aloud to herself,

“Steel yourself for these trials will test your very soul.”

“The first will challenge your resolve. Remove the obstacle from the doorway to proceed to the next trial.”

It wasn’t the most informative slab of stone in the world, that much was certain, but it did serve to add context to the chamber itself. The doorway she had spotted early came under increased scrutiny of those teal eyes. Leaving little doubt it was the way forward… it just came to dealing with the massive stone wall, easily twice her size, that blocked the way. Off to the side was a thick rope that was tethered to the ground in two spots. It ran up and into the ceiling right next to the wall she sought to move. Another clue that hid obscured behind pillars on her initial gaze.

Drawing nearer to the challenge Soriya studied the obstruction with knitted brows and a quizzical face. There was no way she could lift that on her own, not without help. It was clear the rope tied into things as well. The fact that these trials were meant to be faced by one person alone only deepend the mystery. 

Regardless of the case she had to try something...

Both hands came to take a firm grasp of the rope off to the side. Straining herself as she tugged hard against the cord, and as fate would have it, the stone slab rose an inch for her efforts. A happy surprise that brought a smile to her face as she continued to heave away, lifting the door up inch by inch against the strain of her efforts.

Though the smooth sailing far too quick, for as soon as she let go of the rope the stone fell before crashing into the floor with a boom so loud it shook the chamber. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

Soriya tried again, taking the rope within her hands and tugging fistful by fistful with her weight against the rope. Desperately she looked for something to tether the rope to, another clamp on the floor. But she found no such luck. She took the rope as far into the room as she could. But the pillars remained too far for her to tie it to. 

Frustration came in waves as the young monk let the door crash onto the floor once more. And once more it threatened to collapse the ancient structure down around her head.

There was one more idea she had left to try, though it was the most dangerous of the attempts thus far. With the swim down already offering up a hazard to her life, Soriya saw little choice if she wanted to progress further into the temple.

For the third time, she wrapped her hands around the thick rope with a vice like grip. Pulling to leverage the door open bit by bit as each handful drew her closer to the juncture. She got as close as she could while the slack of the rope piled up behind her, up until she could see the winding hallway leading to the next trial.

With a deep and clearing breath she tugged as hard as she could toward the door only to abandon the rope mid way through. Throwing herself into a roll right under the now falling slab of stone that would crush her in a heartbeat. Speed was of the essence as the young monk braced herself in a kneel, her head tucked down to run parallel with her shoulders, and her hands right above them, only to catch the stone and stop its momentum. Her hands enveloped in ivory energies of chi helped her keep the stone in place, but such an exponential explosion of her energy? So quickly? She couldn’t keep it up long as the stone continually reminded her with its weight, bearing down until she began to buckle under the pressure.

Inch by inch Soriya waddled her way toward her goal, so within reach now that all she had to do was fight against the burden that had already pushed her hands to meet her shoulders. It wasn’t until she was a step away that she scurried, sliding her bottom half out first as her hands pushed against the falling door, only serving to speed up her exit from under it.

SLAM!! 

The door crashed down behind her in tandem with the relieved exhale that escaped her after she had cleared the obstacle.

“One trial down…” She muttered to herself as she continued deeper into the ancient temple.

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #15: Shovel Talk

Prompt: scrutiny (free write) | Master Post | On AO3

A pattern of knocks—one two three, pause, one two three—sounded on his office doors. Aymeric looked up from the mass of papers and parchment strewn about his desk, chin balanced in his hand, blinking in confusion. That was one of the coded knocks his officers used when they couldn’t appraise of him details otherwise, specifically to alert him to special guests; one that required his undivided attention.

He hurriedly shrugged his armored surcoat back on and sat upright, hurriedly straightening the paperwork into mostly neat piles. “Yes?” he called out, voice carefully pitched to sound calm and collected.

The left door creaked open, and Lucia leaned inside. “My apologies for the disturbance, Ser Aymeric,” she said in her most formal tone. “A visitor to the Congregation requests an audience with you. May I escort her in?

Not, ‘Are you able to meet with her?’ Someone very important, then, but for the life of him, Aymeric could not figure out who this visitor might be.

“Please do, Ser Lucia,” he said, rising to his feet as his First Commander swung open the door fully. She bowed their mystery guest through first, only stepping inside the office once the visitor came to a stop in the middle of the office, halfway to Aymeric’s desk.

Their visitor was a hyur woman of middle age, her skin a warm golden brown and her dark eyes sharp and observant. She had a strong nose, crows’ feet at the corner of her eyes, and chestnut hair streaked with grey pulled into a thick braid pulled over her left shoulder that hung to her waist; she wore no face paint, save for an Ala Mhigan clan mark in deep red across the bridge of her nose and in an abstract pattern on her right cheek. Her posture was perfectly straight as she politely held her hands clasped in front of her, oozing a surety of purpose and resolve that made her seem much taller than she was.

What drew his attention nearly as much as her cool gaze and regal bearing were her clothes. Her storm grey dress was cashmere, embroidered heavily in dark red thread that formed geometric shapes, with the bottom hem featuring a motif that reminded him of animals—specifically, wolves and bear. The dress was cut to the knee, showing off sensible, heavy leather boots, and was belted with a silver chain. Another silver chain ran from her left hip to her right shoulder, behind which hung a cape with four silk stripes in black, white, red, and storm grey. And the cape’s clasp to the chain was a silver wolf’s head with topaz eyes.

All of it Ala Mhigan.

Aymeric felt the hairs prickle on the back of his neck. This was—

“Ser Aymeric de Borel,” Lucia said with her parade grounds voice, “I present Lady Angharad Greywolfe of Ala Mhigo.”

Oh. Fuck.

“Lady Angharad,” said Aymeric (thank the Fury, none of his sudden terror leaked through), coming around his desk to bow, “it is an honor and a privilege to meet you at last.”

Synnove’s beloved aunt’s answering smile was small and knowing as she dipped into a return curtsy. “The pleasure is mine, Lord Commander,” she said.

“By your leave, sir?” said Lucia. Fury take her, his First Commander’s smile was absolutely wicked, despite her respectful, deferent tone. No doubt she was going to ‘pearl Rereha the moment she was in her own office.

Aymeric inclined his head to her, and the woman closed the office door behind her as she left.

Angharad’s smile changed: now it more a baring of teeth, and her eyes glittered. Wolves were dangerous, especially when protecting the den, but Synnove had once told him that the sigil of her aunt’s family—Redclawe—was a bear. And as any child of Coerthas knew, if there was anything more terrifying than a she-wolf guarding cubs, it was a she-bear guarding cubs.

He swallowed, but stood up straighter as he pulled out one of the chairs on the opposite side of his desk. Lady Angharad strode forward and took the proffered seat with a satisfactory hum, and, once she was settled, Aymeric retook his own seat. He folded his hands on the desktop, to resist the urge to fidget, and met Lady Angharad’s gaze.

He and Synnove had not made any formal announcements about the changed state of their relationship, but neither had they attempted to hide it. There had been little to no negativity in Ishgard, save for disappointed younger lords and ladies, and Count Edmont had been openly delighted. The three other Warriors of Light had also expressed their happiness for Synnove, in their own ways. But they had, one by one, taken him aside privately.

Alakhai had been bluntly straightforward: she’d walked right into his office and slammed one of her combat knives down, point first, into the ironwood of his desk. She’d leaned forward and stared at him, unblinking. He had returned her stare, and eventually she had nodded in satisfaction, retrieved her knife, and left.

Dancing Heron had been similarly silent. She had taken him aside to one of the side parlors at House Fortemps, sat in one of the few chairs that could properly accommodate a roegadyn’s great height, and dragged a whetstone down her sword. The aura of sheer menace had been palpable, particularly when taken in concert with Heron’s easy familiarity with her gear, the age of her sword and how well-cared for it was, and the callouses on her hands.

Rereha had been the worst. To an outside observer, it had liked seemed innocent enough, the bard gesturing expansively while she chattered. Except she had shared, with obvious relish, stories of vengeance on unfaithful lovers, poisoned chalices for caddish heartbreakers, arrows to the heart to reclaim lost honor. Her tone had been light and airy, and her expression gleefully malicious, solidifying in Aymeric’s mind that Rereha Reha was the single most underestimated woman in all of Eorzea.

(One night, not long after the Warriors of Light had ‘spoken’ with him, Synnove had tucked herself into his side and said, awed and respectful, “Lucia and Handeloup are viciously creative.”

Thank the Fury, he apparently hadn’t been the only one threatened within an inch of his life by rabidly overprotective friends.)

Now, though, Aymeric was rather wishing to hear another of Rereha’s gore-filled tales of revenge. What he knew of Angharad Greywolfe was based solely on Synnove’s recollections, and while he did not doubt her love for her aunt, nor her aunt’s love for her niece, the relationship no doubt colored Synnove’s perceptions of the woman. He was in uncharted territory now.

Angharad, at least, wasn’t one to prevaricate. She folded her hands in her lap and raised one chestnut eyebrow at him. “My niece has spoken much of you, Lord Commander” said the woman, “and I quite know how well and how deeply she feels about you. But I would know: what drew her to you?”

Aymeric did not have to think about it. “When first I heard of her,” he said, “it was as one of a group of outsiders seeking assistance from the High Houses in locating the Enterprise as part of the efforts to combat the Ixali summoning of Garuda. My dear friend Haurchefant spoke highly of them all, but especially of Synnove and her immediate friends: their lack of complaint at the inane or thankless tasks set before them; their invaluable assistance in proving the accusations of heresy against Lord Francel de Haillenarte false; and their thwarting of a false inquisitor sowing chaos among our forces. They were honorable women, and Haurchefant never chose his friends lightly.

“I was, admittedly, quite taken with his descriptions of Synnove in particular,” he said ruefully. “He spoke of a serious young woman with a spine of steel and a will of iron. Focused, driven, apparently no-nonsense at first blush. But that she was kind, gentle to those who needed a soft hand, firm with those who required her strength. That she doted on her carbuncles, treated them like her children, and how they adored her in turn. That she had a wry sense of humor, and spoke with obvious excitement and joy about her aetheric arts.”

Aymeric smiled as a memory came to the fore of his mind and said, softly, “I felt awe for her at the first, particularly in the wake of her growing legend as a slayer of primals and the vanquisher of the XIVth Legion. And when I first met her face to face, I did not expect her to be as beautiful on the outside as she so clearly was on the inside.” He shook his head. “That I came to know Synnove as a friend first and foremost, one who was all Haurchefant said she was and more, much more, is a gift for which I daily thank the Fury.

“What drew me to her? Her conviction. Her loyalty. Her delight at remaking the world around her with arcanima. Her enormous heart. Synnove is…magnificent.”

Lady Angharad stared at him thoughtfully for long moments, absorbing what he had told her. Finally, she said, “Once, she had a lover who asked her to put aside her work for the sake of their relationship. Synnove choose to end that relationship. And now she is also a Warrior of Light, who needs must put the good of Eorzea before all else. Are you prepared to handle that?”

Aymeric set his jaw. “First,” he said, “as I said to Synnove when she told me the story, anyone who demands she give up arcanima is a damned mad fool who hasn’t bothered to listen her or to learn who she is. I can only guess at how much the art means to her and has shaped her life.

“Second,” and now his voice turned wry, “I would be an enormous hypocrite to demand of Synnove all her time and attention. I am the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights and currently also the interim head of government for Ishgard. My duty to Ishgard has always come first, and must continue to do so, as I know it must be with Synnove’s duty to the Arcanists’ Guild and to Eorzea. All I can ask of her is that she come home safe, as she asks of me.”

Angharad hummed thoughtfully, and then, slowly, she smiled, wide and brilliant and genuine. She shared no blood with Synnove, so she did not resemble her, but Aymeric knew with certainty that Angharad was the person from whom Synnove learned to beam with such true, open joy.

“Two of the greatest workaholics in all of Eorzea in a relationship,” his lady’s aunt drawled. “My, but your friends are going to have their work cut out for them coordinating the both of you into taking a damned vacation at the same time.”

Aymeric burst out laughing, and Angharad joined him, holding onto the arms of her chair to steady herself as she guffawed. When the two settled down again, Angharad leaned back in her seat, eyeing him carefully. “To make it perfectly clear,” she said, “if you break my niece’s heart, your body will never be found.”

He blinked. “My lady,” he said slowly, “I would be disappointed otherwise. Although…”

She made a ‘go ahead’ gesture at him.

“Am I to except such other, ah, talks from members of your family?”

Angharad smiled again: that baring of teeth, fierce and vicious. This time, though, it wasn’t aimed at himself. “Ser Aymeric,” she said, “I am the Greywolfe matriarch. You leave them to me.”

Aymeric let his shoulders lump in obvious relief. Angharad laughed at him, and oh, yes, Synnove had absolutely learned that particular cackle at this woman’s knee.

[takingcourage]

Back to Bubbly

Pairing: Jaime x MC

Word Count: 2,800

Summary: After spending all of her free time at the hospital, Arden needs a break. Thankfully, Jaime’s got a plan to help her decompress. 

Note: This story started as a drabble based on @krishu213​​‘s request​ for “markets,” but very quickly got out of hand. If you can make it through the angsty beginning, I promise there’s fluff to be had by the end.  

Also, I offer my sincere apologies for how rough this is. I had a totally different fic on the docket for tonight, but ended up hashing this one out when I sat down to edit the other. Thanks for bearing with my shenanigans. 

Arden couldn’t tell how long the ventilator and her own breathing had been working in tandem. Breathe, click click, breathe, click click...Their combined rhythm was perpetual, disrupted only when the door of 227 was breached by some visitor. 

It hadn’t been like this the whole time her father had been in ICU. The first night she’d visited, she’d talked herself almost hoarse with the account of her trip with Ellen and their plans for uncovering Carmichael's schemes. When that story had ended, she'd resorted to telling him favorite memories from her childhood -- sharing secrets that he'd never heard in hopes that tales of her juvenile mischief could scandalize him out of his sleep. 

The night after that, she'd filled him in on the developments in her relationship with Jaime. I think we might actually start dating, dad. Can you believe it? Mom would have been so proud of herself for calling it all those years ago... She'd gone on until the tears came and prevented her from telling him anything further.

But tonight had been different. There was only so much ground that a one-sided conversation could cover. Desperate, she’d picked up a newspaper from one of the waiting rooms on the way up. Once she'd read all of the stories that were of interest, they'd tried to complete the crossword puzzle “together.” Although she still teetered the pencil between her finger and thumb, she’d conceded defeat some time ago. 

Knock, knock.

Arden glanced up at the disturbance, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the sensation of movement. 

“Miss Gale?” 

The nurse was one she recognized -- Gary or Jerry or something like that. Arden couldn’t quite remember. All the same, her tense brow eased a bit at the man’s pleasant expression. You’re in good hands, dad. 

Hand still on the door, the nurse continued. "I just wanted to give you a warning that visiting hours are ending in about five minutes."

"Thank you," she mumbled as she shoved the pencil back into her purse. 

"You're welcome." He slipped out of the room and Arden was alone once more. 

Well, not completely alone. 

Stretching legs that were weary from disuse, she stood beside the bed. She leaned over until her mouth hovered above his ear. 

"I love you, dad. I have to go now, but I'll be back tomorrow. I promise." Tears welled in her eyes as she kissed his brow. Fingering the strap on her purse, she took one final look at his prone figure. 

Each morning, she woke with resolve to bring him back from the darkness, calling on every higher power she'd ever heard of to work some kind of miracle. Each night, she tried to steel herself for the possibility that he would never wake up. 

The cycle was threatening to drive her insane. 

"Bye, dad."

Hating the finality, she added a hasty, "See you tomorrow," before she turned from his still form. 

You've got this, Arden. 

She took a deep breath through her nostrils, then pushed open the door. 

You can do this, you can do this, you can do this. Her lips formed the words over and over, but it didn’t make them true. 

On auto pilot, she made her way through the darkened hallways, pressing the button for the elevator without ever lifting her eyes from the floor. She hated how much the act of leaving the hospital felt like a relief -- hated even more the guilt that always accompanied that sense of relief. As long as there was any hope that he could recover, spending time anywhere else felt like giving up. 

She smacked away at the tears on her cheek. With her free hand, she checked the time on her phone to calculate how many hours there were before she could come and see him again.

Messages (2)

Distracted by the notification, she cleared the lock screen and tapped the appropriate icon. It came as little surprise that both texts were from Jaime. 

Hey, Arden. I know you're probably at the hospital, but I wondered if you’d like to do something tomorrow morning? I thought you might want a distraction.

If not, that's okay...you're probably exhausted and could use the extra sleep. Just let me know. 

Jaime was right: she was exhausted. But Arden knew herself well enough to understand that much of what she felt wasn't physical exhaustion. And those other types of exhaustion -- the emotional and the mental, especially -- were things she couldn’t relieve on her own. 

A few hours with him would probably do her a world of good.

After exiting the elevator, she stepped aside to tap out a quick response and switch her volume back on. 

I'd love to see you! I just need to be back at the hospital by 10:00. 

As she walked across the parking lot, her phone vibrated through the outer pocket of her purse. She checked the message once she’d made it into her car.

Great! Just shoot me a text when you wake up.

Turning the key in the ignition, Arden's lips curled into her first genuine smile of the day.

_______________________________________________________________________

Morning came earlier than Arden might have hoped, but she was fully awake once Opie managed to drag her out of bed. Pulling on her favorite jeans and a hoodie, she took the dog down to the patch of grass in front of her building. 

While the puppy sniffed around in the sidewalk, she sent a quick message to Jaime: Are you up?

His response came less than a minute later: Just got out of the shower. I can be there in twenty minutes?

See you then. : ) 

By the time she’d fed both animals and wrestled her hair into submission, the twenty minutes were nearly up. She’d just finished tying on her tennis shoes when she heard Jaime’s rap on the door. 

“Good morning!” Arden’s enthusiasm over seeing him lent a level of energy that she’d not felt in several days. 

Wasting no time, Jaime wrapped her in a tight hug. “It’s good to see you, Arden.”

"Mmmmph.” She relaxed into his shoulder, enjoying the prevalent scent of his body wash. 

“Did you just smell me?” he asked with a chuckle. 

“It’s a compliment,” she promised. “You just smell really good.” 

“I’ll take it.” He drew back with a smile, a strand of damp hair falling in front of his gorgeous brown eyes. “It's good to see you, Arden." 

Instead of answering, she lifted a hand to brush the hair away from his forehead. Jaime’s smile widened and she wished -- not for the first time -- that she still the power to know his thoughts. 

Opie jumped up on his pant leg, putting an end to the moment. 

“Is this little guy the reason you’re up so early?” Jaime inquired as he lavished affection on the energetic animal. 

“What can I say? Motherhood has changed me.” Arden rolled her eyes and reached for her purse. “But he should be good for another several hours now. Shall we go?”

They’d made it several miles down the road before he asked the question she’d known was coming. 

"How's your dad?"

Staring out the side window, she picked at the seam on her jeans. "Same as before.” With a deep breath through her nostrils, she tried to separate the events into days -- a challenging task within the hospital monotony. “Yesterday...I think it was yesterday, they told me he’s avoided getting any bedsores, so that’s a good thing.” 

He fell quiet, eyes fixed on the traffic light. Still, his free hand snuck over to her thigh. Her fingers curled around his palm, grateful for the show of support. 

"The nurses seemed pretty optimistic when I was there a couple of days ago. Nothing's changed?"

"It's just a waiting game, and not the fun kind."

"Waiting rarely is." The light turned green, and he lifted his hand to switch gears. "But if it's okay with you, I'd like to go with you when you see him today."

"I'd really like that." Somehow, the thought of having another person with her in that tiny room made it feel less claustrophobic. 

"So, about this morning," he narrated, turning onto a side street. "I figured you probably haven't been eating very well for the past few days."

Arden opened her mouth to object, but he beat her to the punch.

"Lemme guess... It's been a steady diet of Pop Tarts, Hot Pockets, and Kraft Mac and Cheese?"

"I had some SpaghettiOs yesterday."

He scoffed as he flicked on the blinker again. "You’re practically a poster child for the USDA."

Arden poked her tongue out in protest.

"Anyway, I was thinking we could stop by the farmers’ market and then head back to my place to make some breakfast. I've been craving fresh fruit and goodness knows how long it's been since you've had food that didn't come out of a box. Or a can," he added, sensing the objection before it even passed her lips.

"Does this mean we’re having pancakes?"

He pulled into an empty space, treating her to a cheesy smile as he put the car into park."I haven’t made them in a while, but I think this calls for it.” 

"You're amazing. I don't tell you that enough, but you really are."

"Just trying to look out for you." He cast aside his seatbelt and swayed toward her for a kiss.

As their lips met briefly, she wondered why it was that his version of looking out for her didn’t feel like a threat to her freedom. It was one of the many questions she’d spent the last week trying to answer, but she still came up short. 

He pulled away first, eyes sparkling as he exited the vehicle. "Let's go see what we can find."

“I’m hoping for honey,” she declared. “I wrote a story about some urban beekeeping efforts in Northbridge a few months ago, but I’ve never tried any of it.”  “Maybe that should be our first stop.” Jaime indicated a tent toward their left. A gingham tablecloth served as backdrop for the attractive display, and Arden couldn’t resist dashing ahead of him in her desire to examine the wares. 

First and foremost, her attention was drawn to the observation hive situated on the middle of the table. Crouching slightly, she fixed her eyes on the flurry of action in the center. Grateful as she was for the plate of glass that separated them, the tiny insects were remarkably compelling. 

“They’re amazing!” she hummed appreciatively as Jaime caught up. 

To humor her, he cast his eyes over the hive. 

“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” the vendor assured as she completed a transaction with her previous customer. 

“No hurry.” 

Arden tore her eyes from the construction, considering the assortment of products being sold. Taking a beeswax candle in her palm, she passed the column under her nose. The faint sweet scent tickled her nose. 

“Do you have any questions? Anything I can help you with?” 

Jaime stretched out the pair of honey straws in his hand. “Did you want anything, Arden?”

“I think I’m good for now, but you’ll definitely see me again in future,” she promised with a nod at the vendor. 

As Jaime paid, she took one final look through the glass. “I wish I knew what they were thinking.”

Jaime pressed a kiss to her hair as they walked away. “Don’t ever change. Please.” 

Blushing, she sought his hand. But her fingers met a hard corner of plastic instead of his familiar skin. 

“This one’s for you,” he explained, passing her the stick of honey. 

She slipped the token into her purse, grateful to find his hand open to her on a second attempt. 

They spent the next half hour circulating through various stalls. There was a momentary twinge of guilt when she saw a man about her father’s age picking tomatoes across the tent from her, but Arden suppressed it quickly. Visiting hours haven’t started. There’s literally nothing you can do for him. She breathed more easily at the thought. 

By the time they were ready to leave, she was practically floating. When they reached Jaime’s house, she was lighter than air. 

“You ready for some coffee?” he asked as they entered his small kitchen. “I’ll get some going before I start on the pancakes.”

“Coffee sounds great. I’ll go ahead and wash the berries?” Jaime responded by surrendering the cartons to her hands. 

Arden found his colander easily and quickly set about cleaning the fruit in his sink. She snuck a glance over her shoulder while she rinsed, skin warming at the sight of him puttering around in the cabinets. 

He was no master chef, but he knew his way around a kitchen, which was more than could be said for herself. Her own culinary skills left much to be desired. 

Berries washed, she hopped onto a clear panel of the countertop, content to watch his efforts. “Let me know if I can help with anything,” she offered when he handed off her mug of fresh coffee. 

“Just keep me company. It’s been a while since I’ve made pancakes.” 

She took a long sip from the mug. Perfection. “I’m shocked. I thought Saturday pancakes were Lewis-family tradition?”

Flour in hand, he looked up at her with a wry smile. “They were. But traditions aren’t much fun when you’re living alone.” 

Cheeks burning, Arden drained another mouthful to buy herself some strategizing time. Of course they’re not, you idiot. Why’d you have to bring that up? 

She was opening her mouth to bumble an apology when he saved her. 

“And that’s why I’m glad you came around today so I’d have someone to make them for.” He lifted the mixing bowl and made a point of angling away from her. “But I am going to have to ask you to close your eyes for a minute. Paula would never forgive me if I let you in on her secret ingredient.” 

Although she complied with the demand, she couldn’t help laughing at his serious demeanor. 

Whatever the tricks of Paula’s recipe, it made for the best pancakes Arden had ever had. Even the many memories she had of eating them in childhood couldn’t measure up to the plate of perfection she devoured at Jaime’s dining room table. 

"That good, huh?" He joked, arching a brow at the empty dish in front of her. 

"Can you cook for me every weekend?"

He gave her a funny look as he snapped the lid back on the bottle of syrup. "That could probably be arranged."

Gathering up their dishes, she followed him into the kitchen. "I could pay you back with kisses."

He paused, leaning against the cabinet to look her in the eye. When she turned toward him, his own gaze was narrowed in amusement. "Do your all of your kisses require some kind of trade?"

Arden deposited the plates in the empty sink, taking a moment to rinse her sticky fingertips before she replied to his query.

"Not for you, they don't. You can have them as often as you'd like."

"Not for me? Are there others you're in the habit of kissing?"

"Not at the moment.” She gave a breathy laugh at his insinuation, but then turned serious. “And maybe never again."

Jaime took her cue, arms opening wide for her to step into his embrace. She kissed him heartily, feeling the ache of uncertainty and fear slip away under his persistent lips. 

As long as she was in his arms, she didn’t have to worry about having all of the answers. Guilt was no longer weighing her down. But more than that, she was struck by the assurance that she didn’t have to face the world alone. 

He stopped her with a gentle hand. "We should probably keep moving if we want to make it to the hospital by 10:00."

“I know.” Although she agreed with his line of thinking, her desire and her better sense were very much at odds with one another. Reluctant to let him go, she lowered her arms to wrap around his waist. 

“But before we leave, thank you. Truly.” There was a familiar pressure building at the corners of her eyes. She flicked them down to avoid crying. “The last few days have been torture, but this morning was perfect. I think I really needed this.”  

“I did too.” His own tears glistened when he pulled away from her. “And I really mean it, Arden. I’m here for whatever you need.” 

In the midst of all the whatevers life had thrown at her, she was beginning to wonder if he was all she really needed. 

[primptownlibrary]

Shin Madou Monogatari Gaiden - The Golden Hero: Prologue - The Hero’s Advent!

“Phew…...”

With a thud, the young man sat down and leaned against the base of the great tree, flinging aside his bags under the bower.

*rustle…!*

The leaves, fully grown and at peak condition, rustle overhead. A complex web of branches extend out to let the verdant leaves show their vivid color, full of life and vigor. The gentle breeze brushes off the man’s sweat-dampened cheek, giving a cooling sensation to his heated body.

“A bit tougher this time around...”

With a faint sigh, he reached for something at his side, recounting the life-threatening struggle that transpired some time ago. His adversary was a monster at least thrice his size, and quite the heavyweight. However, the threat’s massive form was, in actuality, of least concern. The true evil was its ability to drain the life and bounty of the land, and would do so time and time again until all that remained was eroded ruin. It was a hard-fought battle for the man, but his inner strength allowed him to rise up without cease against the formidable foe. While victory was his, it was not without cost, for he suffered a wound upon his right flank.

(And it’s because of all of you, I still stand here and now…)

Entrusting himself to the tree, he quietly closed his eyes. Deep breath in...then slow breath out. Enshrouding his body was a sacred veil, from the surface and to every nook and cranny within, as if it’s permeating him with energy from head to toe. A soothing warmth took place of the wound’s ache, easing the pain. Soon enough, the severe gaping tear closed up splendidly, and in its place marked a faint scar.

“Thank you...for your comfort,” he whispered, reaching and gently placing his hand upon the backside of the tree trunk.

There was once a demonic threat that overran the world, and while its numbers have declined, wicked monsters threatened the people’s peace in its wake. The man’s purpose is to wander the lands to quell the beasts. Monster hunting is an arduous journey to him, but to his fortune, the land’s bounty gave him their blessings and support, offering the man their <protection>. Now that the monsters had fallen once more, the tree was able to reclaim its life force, which it used to mend to the man’s wounds. Thus, with the evils already wiped out from the region, it also meant one more thing...this journey has now met its end.

It happened about one year ago… The man was called forth as the <hero> to save a world from the terror of the <Dimensional Demon> that wreaked fear and deceit into the people. The goddess <Eldora> entrusted him the golden armor he wears, and bestowed the <Reactor Blade>, the sword of light he wields in tandem with his spirit in battle. Many people rely on him… wished for him… even revered and offered gifts to him… But it always made him feel distant and alone. There is a burden with carrying power beyond human understanding. Even if he could make fear and misfortune disappear, there is cruel irony in overpowering the monsters he fought, for it redirected fear onto the <hero> himself. As a consequence, he and the people are never to intermingle as <equals>. He is a <hero> at his very core, and because of that, they were afraid of him… The man would avoid interfering with the people’s lives, quickly and quietly distancing himself as soon as he fulfilled his duty, before anyone would catch wind of his presence, as the common tales would tell. Thus, leading into the present, after the end of a fierce fight… He has since left town, healing the wound in silent solitude. He couldn’t help but let out a self-deprecating laugh at how awfully ironic the thought was once it hit him.

(……!?)

At that moment, a light dashed past the corner of his eye. Perhaps the light was emitted from the base of the great tree, the same one that eased him. In response, he stepped up towards the light’s direction. The light was but a beautiful gemstone, fashioned into a lovely-looking pendant. The gem was blue in color, with a complex series of cuts that gave shape to its surface. The leaf-filtered sunlight beamed down upon it, the hundreds—thousands, even—of facets reflecting a dazzling gleam in many directions.

*jingle…*

The man held the blue gem-laden pendant in the palm of his hand, gazing at it in silence. The bygone events...They were all incredibly vivid memories. At least he himself and that world were seen as <equals>. He had a chance meeting with irreplaceable companions, sharing the battle against the new dimensional demon. That dimensional demon was the far-enduring being known as <Yog Swartus, the Wicked God of Dimensions>. Thus, with all due respect...that world likely came to be just so <that man> and he would cross paths.

(Sigh…)

The man’s facial expression softened. When he was handed the pendant, words from that world’s <chief> ringed in his head clear as day: “This world is a place for people like you can rest.” The meaning of those words left a pain in his chest. Maybe, just maybe...<that time> is now. Because the world’s chief endowed him with such great magical power, the chief likely knew everything and anything. The azure light emitting from the gem may be for his own uses.

“...take me back.”

The gem was cool to the touch as he lightly grasped it in his palm. As he held it up close to himself, he quietly closed his eyes.

“I really want to see <them> soon...”

Will his surprise visit lead him back to his fighting companions? Will it be a happy reunion? Such lingering negative thoughts had to be quietly pushed aside and towards the back of his mind. That said, he can’t think about that now, as it was rather presumptuous of him. And yet, he can’t help but imagine the smiling faces he’ll bring when he visits that world and reunites with the dearly missed. The girl with the flaxen hair...he’s sure she’ll welcome him back. She’ll even have the same, energetic and carefree smile on her face… His resolve was steeled. The azure light then slowly enveloped him, and he shot up to the open sky above. The man known as <Ragnus Bishasi> crossed dimensions once more, travelling to the world where his dear companions lived. Unbeknownst to him, however, it was the beginning of an <endless journey>… An endless journey guided by the treasured blue gemstone known as the <Azorecrack>.

[rasenkaikyo]

with @magitek-powered-calligraphy​

It was to the convenience of the Majestic Theater's staff that the Prima Vista had a fully stocked bar setup not unlike what could be found in the Sandsea, especially for a round after a triumphant performance.

At this point during the softer hours, Hinako sat alone at the bar, having placed before her a set of items for tea, including a small dish with fine green powder and a bamboo whisk. In silence, the Raen sipped her tea.

With a thud, a bottle of Vintage Lea Monde was placed on the table. Priscilla sat next to Hinako moments afterwards with an empty glass. She uncorked the bottle without much words and poured the deep crimson liquid in her glad. She swirled the wine around a few times, lost in thought, before placing the glass back in the bar table and pushing it away from her with the tip of her fingers.

She looked to her side to Hinako for the first time. Her eyes slightly bloodshot. Her face saddened, almost pleading. Her mouth barely opened as if she was deciding to say something.

"...How's your wound? Feeling better?" Hinako looked to the bottle and then back to Priscilla, invoking the close call she had with that creature beneath the city.

As ever, Hinako smiled to her with an assuring, genuine warmth and comfort, but at close glance even she could not conceal the apparent fatigue in her eyes - likely from rest cut short, perhaps having burst into tears recently... or maybe both.

“I wanted to thank you…” Priscilla nodded. “I wouldn't be here without your intervention.” Her gaze dropped. “Thank you… gods, we are so fucked aren't we?” She rested her arms on the bar. “Carrying eikons on our pockets…”

Hinako nodded to Priscilla's gratitude, but did not readily respond to her sentiment. Wistfully, she looked to the glass of wine, and then back to her tea. Setting her own cup down, she partially filled one of the empty cups with the green powder, put some hot water over it and gently whisked the mix together. Finally, while giving a soft sigh, she placed the cup of tea near Priscilla.

"You know, I don't think we had any opportunity to speak after I joined, before this mission. I'm sorry that it had to be under such terms as these." Hinako continued to smile, albeit with a hint of sadness on her visage.

Priscilla replied with a corner smile as she grabbed the newly poured tea. She brought it close to her face and allowed herself to breathe, her expression softening. “This brings better memories…” She spoke. “Let’s make the best of it then. My name is Priscilla bas Scaevola, I am a writer and recently have been chronicling the Riskbreakers adventures.” She sipped on the tea and she felt some of the stress leave her forehead.

"Mm ♪." Hinako turned back to her own tea and picked it up; breathing in, taking another sip, breathing out. She felt more light return to her.

"I am Daigo no Hinako, of Iwa. 108th in a line of high priests. I had been friends with the company for a couple of years now - and with the dream of having further lands like Doma see the sun rise, I aligned my interests with RISK and pledged my aid."

“Like a princess, are you? There’s some elegance to the way you carry yourself.” Priscilla raised her eyebrows with a her own assessment. “I come from a family of engineers. My desire for writing went against their wishes. Then in writing about heroes I found myself a traitor to my nation and at Ashelia’s doorstep.” There’s melancholy in her smile. “Now I chronicle everything that has been happening with the company in order to publish it. People need to know…” She trails off.   

Hinako had chuckled softly at Priscilla's small assessment. It was strange; she had never really considered herself a princess, and yet over the time since she first left Doma she began to consider if those words were more true than she had realized.

The priest rested her cup and stared down at it for a moment. She knew that at this point, it was uncertain especially now to determine the way of these chronicles, but...

"...Auracite. Scantily referenced in some Doman scripture as 'seiseki', I think. It is said that time and again, heroes have convened with twelve stones to change the course of history. The Dalmascans have placed great faith in them."

Hinako glanced back towards Priscilla. "I know... I know it's tough to consider, and even I struggle to comprehend it, but... I pray that what you publish next will be able to detail how heroes found the resolve to push through adversity, even when turned against themselves."

“The belief the kami dwell in objects.” Priscilla recalled. “I guess the auracite is no different.” She nods a few times.

“I hope you are right, for everyone’s sake. I really want you to be.” Priscilla pauses. “Because they way is currently unfolding is going to end in terror and blood. You saw the place we were. Nive’s touch. Ashelia’s voice speaking of blood and sacrifice. There’s more than one agenda at play…” She trails off, eyes watering. “I know not what to do. I know not if our friends are still there. I want to save them, but I am just the writer…” she takes a long sip of her tea.

"You are right... there is a clash of agenda," Hinako muses, setting down her tea and folding her arms. "We are talking of these stones seemingly serving ancient beings, that which transcend our morals, what is considered good or evil... and it is scary. For us, and our friends, to endure something that one struggles to comprehend and to have it control, to have it act beyond the will of the individual. I don't like seeing what has become of many a Riskbreaker, including Lady Ashe.

"However... In the end they are still limited. It depends on all, if the resolve is steeled and the will is just, to rise above them. That is the conflict we need to stand vigil for, and we should be there for them for no one should have to suffer alone. Temptation can be great, and we needs help steer with whatever guidance we can, lest they drive themselves into oblivion. And if it can't be helped, then we need to find whatever reasonable way we can to pry the stones from their grasp, and heal."

Priscilla smiled, weakly but genuinely. “This strength you possess, to see light beyond this darkness.I do not know how you do it. To have that stillness of mind whilst I panic about impending doom.” She gestures a flourish with her hand as she speaks. “I can see why you would be fitting to be a high priestess. A beacon of light and peace, resolute and comforting. I imagine they looked up to you, your people.”  

Hinako glowed, letting out a quick breath, as she lowered her arms to prepare more tea. "We come of different vocations, after all. I do the best I can for them, and everyone..." It felt, there wasn't much difference between now and then, after Doma fell. She recalled the words of assurance, yet honest, she said for the people - she said to Mozu. That which served to secure the bonds between them. Such was her way.

She had faith that her words were not hollow, and she would not allow them to be hollow now.

"...As I will keep doing for you and yours, Priscilla. For all of us. We'll get through  this, together."

“Careful, princess” Priscilla smiled. “You’ll make it hard not to fall for you.” She laughed, trying to cup her mouth with her hand.

“But more seriously. What drove you? To travel away from your home and into the fray? Duty, vengeance, love?” More at ease chatting with Hinako, Priscilla finally procured a small notebook from her pocket. I am a writer. She reminded herself. “Also, what’s happened since you’ve taken the stone? Have you felt changes?” She inched her empty cup towards her. “Should at least document what’s happened, if not for us then for those to come.”

The ‘princess’ couldn’t help but laugh herself, and blush a little at Priscilla’s statement.

"Ah, love, maybe..." Hinako replied first, finishing with her cup. "I have someone who is fighting a good fight against the Empire, and after having reached a certain point of stability in Doma I thought I might join her in my own way, you know? From there, fate guided me here."

She looked to Priscilla's empty cup and opted to set her up with more tea as well. "As for my stone... If this is any consolation, I have sensed no invasive influence. Not biding its time - actively it is not interested in me as a 'vessel'. Simply put, Adrammelech is an entity of pure wrath, and I am not."

The priestess grinned a little and passed fresh tea back Pris' way. "Still we can reach out to one another, and recently it visited me in my dreams, as I slept."

“A dream?” Priscilla raised an eyebrow. “Was it trying to convince you? Warn you? Threaten you?” Her fingers played with a pen while she thought. “Was it because of your resistance? Or do you think the others are experiencing similarities?”

"...It is tough to say," Hinako replied, a bit of a frown appearing on her face as she recalled the dream, and the intensity of the feeling she felt. "Its presence was mostly ambivalent, but it did give unto me a vision, a lurid look into the past; truth of what we saw in Lea Monde.

"There was a woman and two men - two brothers, the younger undeniably being the man RISK captured. Grissom. ...They traveled deep underground to that altar, whereupon it the woman was handed the stone now in my possession by the elder brother. Then, with little warning in a seemingly tender moment, he put a dagger in her abdomen.

“He said he needed her soul as he twisted further. 'Blood for the Seraph, Blood for the Lady, Blood for the resurrection', the brother cited... but in her horrible final moments as she screamed and writhed, the woman was consumed with such great wrath against the man that a violent change was triggered. She pushed back -- A statue present at the altar embraced her, until they were one. The multi-armed, two-faced being of flesh and stone."

Priscilla’s eyes widened at the tale, her fingers loosely covering her mouth in slight terror. “Do their tales speak of a leader to these auracites?” The gears in her head began to turn, trying to extrapolate a conclusion between all this. She frowns recalling the events at Lea Monde. “Is it enough blood, My Lady” She fakes a deep voice, reminiscing of the words Nive’s body said. “Do they wish to resurrect this Seraph? Not that I would blame them, if they have been imprisoned in the stones for eons.” She ponders. “But why tell us? Why show you their plans? To flaunt their inevitability? There’s something we must be missing...”

Priscilla takes a few seconds before putting her pen away. “Sorry for the musings.” She grabbed the fresh tea and took her time to smell it before sipping again.

"It is fine, truly," Hinako said with a nod, before sipping her own tea. "I believe the Seraph in question is definitely Ultima, the High Seraph. One of twelve, legend notes that she was the de facto leader of these beings who rebelled against their empyrean masters. They failed and were subjugated forevermore."

She reached behind her and pulled out the book she has been holding on to, setting it on the table. "It makes sense that they would seek freedom, but there is so much left in the fog beyond that for sure." She furrowed her brow a little. "All I know is that even if I were subjected to the whims of demons, nothing could drive me to turn on another for blood sacrifice. Whoever yearns for it shall not have their way.”

“They shall not have their way.” Priscilla repeated with a nod. “That, we can definitely agree on.”

She allowed herself some silence with the tea and the company before continuing. “I think we are starting to move on the right direction. Information is crucial to conflict. Knowing the cards we’ve been dealt is half the fight. The other, like you mentioned, is in their hands.” Priscilla took another sip, trying to swallow the slight helplessness she felt. “Have you shared your vision with the others?”

Hinako shook her head and gestured palm-up. "Mm-mm, I haven't yet had the opportunity to see anyone over it. Mostly I needed to think about what I had seen, first... I do believe I know where I can find Nivelth, and perhaps I can cross with Akhutai along the way."

“Just…” Priscilla took a second to find the words. “Be careful. And Thanks”.

Hinako smiled back and gave an assuring nod. “Of course.”

[arachcobra]

Naruto Episode 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 and 19 Review

Let’s get ready to rumble

Review of Naruto Episode 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 and 19: Haku's Secret Jutsu: Crystal Ice Mirrors, The Number One Hyperactive, Knucklehead Ninja Joins the Fight, Zero Visibility: The Sharingan Shatters, The Broken Seal, White Past: Hidden Ambition, The Weapons Known as Shinobi and The Demon in the Snow

ArachCobra

Hoo boy, this is gonna be a long one.

So Gato's henchmen Zori and Waraji bust into Tazuna's place by straight up carving the wall open. That's kinda awesome. And then they immediately start busting the inventory, because fuck Tazuna's dishes I guess. Anyway, they take Tsunami hostage and plan on killing Inari, but Tsunami promises to let them do whatever they want with her if they spare Inari.

In the English dub anyway. Originally, she threatens to bite her own tongue and drown in her blood if they hurt Inari, denying them a captive. Gotta go with the original Japanese take on this, that's fucking hardcore. Go Tsunami.

So Inari is left behind, crying, because now he's also at risk of losing his mom. But then he remembers Naruto and storms after the two thugs to... Actually, he has no plan other than yelling a challenge and running towards the enemy. Which I grant is very Naruto. And Naruto does show up right then and saves them both.

But imagine if he hadn't. We're supposed to see this as Inari overcoming his issues and gaining  courage. But again, courage is defined here as being an idiot. If Naruto hadn't conveniently showed up when he did, having figured Gato's goons were heading for Tazuna's house, Inari would have been cut to ribbons. Courage does not mean not being smart, but the way the show plays it off, we're supposed to think this is admirable. Sure, brave people head into danger all the time. Firefighters, policemen, soldiers. And sometimes, you don't have a choice but to risk it all. I do get that. But that's last resort and only narrative coincidence saved Inari.

Back at the bridge, Haku enters battle by spinning like a fucking beyblade. Not the most intimidating entrance. Then they fight and despite the hype, Sasuke does get the better of him, which makes Zabuza declare that Sasuke is Haku's rival.

Sakura and Kakashi just watch. I guess it would be too much to ask them to join the fight and even the odds in their favour.

Yes, climbing trees magically gave Sasuke the ability to keep up with Haku. I guess. Somehow.

So Haku uses his ace in his sleeve and summons several ice mirrors which he can enter and fight from. Sasuke supposedly gets fucked up pretty badly, but given the sheer amount of needles animated, seems like Haku is missing with most of them.

Finally, Sakura tries to help by throwing a kunai, but Haku catches it, only to get conked in the head by Naruto.

A brilliant sneak attack from our ninja idiot. Good to see.

Of course, he immediately ruins it by doing a dramatic entrance worthy of Darkwing Duck and starts blathering about how this is just like in the stories when the hero arrives in the nick of time.

After getting yelled at, he tries to do the clone thing, only for Zabuza to attack him mid hand sign.

Stuff like this is why I like Zabuza.

Now, Haku does intervene because he wants to fight Naruto, but there's a fundamental problem here that must be addressed.

Now, Naruto, he likes to talk about becoming the greatest ninja ever. But scenes like this reveal something rather... Peculiar.

Fundamentally, Naruto has no fucking clue what a ninja is.

He always tries to storm in and hit hard. Even accepting the much more offensive role ninjas have in this universe, emphasis is still placed on deception, trickery, stealth, tactics. Meanwhile, Naruto thinks he's on an episode of Dragonball, charging in loudly and swinging his fists no matter how big and dangerous his opponent is. At least the others call him out on it this time, but it is troubling that Naruto has managed to become a ninja, despite obviously having no fucking clue what he's supposed to be doing.

And then he 'sneaks' into the mirror dome, trapping himself there with Sasuke.

Because Naruto, on top of everything else, is also an idiot.

Meanwhile, Sakura is guarding Tazuna. That is their main objective, so technically that's great, but since the show instead wants to focus on the interesting battles, it leaves little for her to do.

Back in the dome, Haku keeps destroying Naruto's clones, while Sasuke uses his ally as a distraction to analyze Haku's jutsu to find a way to counter it.

Good on Sasuke. He's actually ninjaing.

And then Kakashi and Zabuza starts fighting, with the latter summoning an extra thick fog to counter the Sharingan. Then, on top of that, he tries to go for Tazuna and Sakura to lure Kakashi into a vulnerable position. Kakashi gets in the way, blood sprays and Sakura screams.

Back in the dome, our two intrepid friends are starting to look rather like pincushions. Makes me wince whenever they fall over, because you know at least one of those needles just got shoved into them. Not that it ever amounts to anything.

So Naruto faints from exhaustion, Haku tries to finish him off and Sasuke gets in the way. He gets some actually sad final words and Naruto loses his fudge and gets ready to end fucking everything. The power sealed in explodes outward and everyone notices it.

On that note, boy, Zabuza sure did spend a lot of time with his sword stuck in Kakashi if we have to judge from how long passed between the scream and us getting back to them.

But anyway, Naruto goes berserk and absolutely ruins Haku, stopping short of killing him only because he recognizes him as the cute crossdresser from the woods. They exchange words and Haku tells his backstory. It's a genuinely sad tale about prejudice, hate, exclusion and finding a place in the world to belong. Finally, feeling that he is now useless again, Haku encourages Naruto to kill him. But before out blond ninja can euthanize him, let's go back to Kakashi and Zabuza.

So Kakashi got hurt, but that allows him to do a little dance routine with a scroll of paper to summon dogs to hold Zabuza still. Then he charges up his lightning hands and gets ready to fingerbang Zabuza in the heart with the power of Zeus.

Haku sensing this decides he has one last use left in his life, taking the blown and attempting to hold Kakashi still while Zabuza finishes him off. While he succeeds at the former, Kakashi gets away with his body before Zabuza can kill him.

And thus dies Haku. Its a rather sad tale.

Meanwhile, Inari runs around trying to gather an army, but no one dares fight Gato. Still, his words strikes a chord and later when he prepares to go off on his own armed with a crossbow, the villagers show up to help.

Back on the bridge, Sakura sees Sasuke and freaks out. Tazuna thinks some encouraging words. Wish he'd say them instead.

And while that is going on, Zabuza is getting his shit kicked in by Kakashi. It's seriously embarrassing. Like, we cut back, and Zabuza has already broken an arm off-screen. And then Kakashi bitchslaps him away. It's like, now that his role as villain is over, Zabuza has gone from a complete menace to some jobber getting slapped around before the main event. Honestly, kinda disrespectful to his character. And then Kakashi breaks the other arm.

Then Gato shows up with an army of misfit goons, because he's tired of how shit's going down. Then he kicks Haku, which triggers Naruto. Zabuza says he didn't care about Haku, using him only as a tool, which causes Naruto to yell at him.

And then Zabuza cries, Naruto's words cutting deep.

Sure. We'll go with that.

So then he charges Gato armed only with a kunai in his mouth, cutting through Gato's army and killing the lil' guy himself after delivering a chilling speech about Hell. It's all kinds of awesome.

Then the rest of the villagers show up, scaring off what goons remain. Personally, I think they should have shown up a little earlier, so that they could have part in the showdown with Gato, since all this build up was for them to stop letting their fear of the guy control him. But that's just my opinion.

With everything resolved, Kakashi drags a dying Zabuza to Haku's body, so he can see him one last time before he dies. Between the music, cinematography and dialogue, this scene genuinely got me misty-eyed. There's only one stupid line from Naruto that doesn't work. This truly does feel sad and I gotta hand it to the anime for pulling that off.

Also, Sasuke is miraculously alive. I guess Sakura forgot to check his pulse before deciding to cry all over him. Yes, yes, I get it, she was distraught, but really, that should be the first thing they checked.

Zabuza and Haku get buried and our protagonists leaves.

Anyway, the bridge also got finished. Which is surprising considering that bridges of the type we see here, spanning quite the distance across the ocean, takes quite a fucking long time to make. I guess they've been away for a couple of years and nobody told us. And then it's named the Great Naruto Brudge.

Go fuck yourself, Tazuna.

Seriously, okay, great, Naruto helped. So did everyone else, including Sakura, who was babysitting your sorry ass while you were being hunted by a hulking ninja wielding a steel girder sizes kill-blade. Not to mention Kakashi, who fought Zabuza, and Sasuke, who took a bullet(Well, handful of needles) for his comrade. And of course, let's not forget Kaiza, who was oh so important some episodes ago.

But no. All credit goes to Naruto. What a cop out.

Anyway, while these episodes have some legendarily great moments, from Haku's past to Zabuza's final moments, they're also hindered by several issues. First of all, they were spread out over too many episodes. There's too much faffing about and “Last time on Naruto,” which kills the pacing at times.

Secondly, Naruto makes some truly stupid mistakes that really makes it hard to believe he's got what it takes to be a ninja, much less the hokage.

And thirdly, despite having a technically important role, Sakura gets to do nothing. This is a shame, as the previous episodes have established that she is quite skilled in her own way. But since her job is to guard Tazuna and the camera would rather focus on the epic action, she just felt put on the sideline. At least she still did something, I guess, but Sakura by this point really needs opportunities to shine.

Givenea

Let’s see. Zabuza is a big threat until he isn’t, then Kakashi just slaps him about. There’s also this weird moment where we’ve cut to Naruto, Sasuke and Haku for a long conversation then cut back, and Zabuza and Kakashi has apparently just been standing there for several minutes. We get Haku’s backstory, it’s genuinely touching. Then Gato shows up with a bunch of goons. Team 7, the villagers and Zabuza team up to defeat him. Everyone is happy, except for Haku, Zabuza and Gato who’re all dead. Zabuza’s death scene was pretty touching though.

Also the bridge is named The Great Naruto Bridge, because fuck everyone else.

I have so much to say about this episode.

Let’s start with tying a nice big bow on Naruto and Inari’s relationship. There are two scenes to carry in mind for this.

First, Naruto saves Inari and his mother Tsunami from some goons Gato send to kidnap one of them for some reason. Inari starts crying (can’t blame him) but tries to stop himself. Naruto tells him that there’s nothing wrong with it as he’s being happy and that’s fine.

Ok, so tears of happiness are fine, got it. Crying can happen due to just about any strong emotion and is a healthy outlet of such thing, but this seems to be the thesis we’re going with.

Inari then fetches the villagers to go scare of the last of Gato’s goons, good for them.

The second scene to bear in mind comes as the episode is ending when Kakashi and team is saying goodbye. Inari is trying not to cry, and Naruto tells him it’s ok to do so. Then we see that Naruto too is bawling his eyes out, and I agree with Sakura here… this is really damn stupid.

The lesson is apparently that it is only ok to cry if you doing so helps make Naruto look good… I don’t think I have a middle finger big enough, to express just how far this show can shove that idea.

So, let me moan and complain about the bridge instead. See, there is a Great Naruto Bridge in real life Japan. It lies in continuation of The Small Naruto bridge and crosses the Naruto strait. Now I was not able to find anything on how long it took to build The Great Naruto Bridge. I was however able to find something on the New Little Belt Bridge here in Denmark.

Let’s compare bridges:

New Little Belt Bridge:

Suspension bridge.

Length: 1700 meters.

Width: 31.2 meters.

Time under construction: 5 years (1965-1970)

Great Naruto Brigde:

Suspension bridge.

Length: 1629 meters.

Width: 25 meters.

Time under construction: no idea

Now, The New Little Belt Bridge is slightly bigger than The Great Naruto Bridge, but I don’t think it is completely crazy to say they could be constructed within a similar time span. And from the view the show gives us of the damn thing, we can conclude a few things:

The bridge is a suspension bridge. This can be seen from the general design when people are working on it in episode 11

It is almost finished. When Zabuza and Haku arrived in episode 12 you can see that the bridge is very close to reaching shore.

At the end of the ark it is done. The team walks home over the bridge, it kinda must be done for that.

From the scenes in episode 11 where Giichi quits we can see that keeping workers is hard.

From the scene in episode 11 where Sakura and Tazuna goes shopping we can see that resources are tight.

Also, according to the tale of Kaiza in episode 11, Kaiza arrived 3 years prior and Gatö arrived about a year prior to the events of the ark according to Tazuna’s explanation as they sail under the bridge in episode 7.

So with these facts in mind, time to make some assumptions:

With the difficulty of keeping workers and the lack of resources it is assumable that the progress on building the bridge has been pretty much halted in the year Gatö has been there.

The bridge could not have been built response to Gatö’s takeover, as construction would have to have started 4 years prior to his arrival.

Again, with the lack of resources and workers, it is assumable finishing the bridge would take longer than anticipated.

We are gonna assume for the need of simplicity that it takes equally long to build a meter on any part of the bridge and that the short distance we can see is 50 meters long. We are also gonna assume that The Great Naruto Bridge of the show is the same size as The Great Naruto Bridge in Japan. That means that under normal conditions it should take Tazuna and a full crew 56 days or almost two months to finish the bridge.

Now Tazuna does not have normal conditions, he has, if nothing else, to bring in more workers and figure out how to pay their wages. But let say he manages all that he needs to quickly. In that case the ninjas could maybe be home after something like 5 months after heading out…

But see… here’s the thing, as far as I could understand. The bridge is supposed to have been built in response to Gatõ. Tazuna supposedly finished a five-year project in about a year, with barely any money, few workers and a sadistic, dictatorial business tycoon breathing down his neck.

I don’t think I have to explain how impossible that is.

Here are the links for the pages I used to look up the bridges:

https://www.japanhoppers.com/en/shikoku/naruto/kanko/662/

https://da.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lilleb%C3%A6ltsbroen_(1970)

http://www.vejdirektoratet.dk/DA/viden_og_data/statens-veje/broer/Sider/Lilleb%C3%A6ltsbroen.aspx

Fluttersniper13

I'll keep this brief. Goons blow up wall, Inari's an idiot, Naruto is an idiot. On the bridge, Sakura does nothing. Sasuke does something. Kakashi is being cool. Silent killer isn't being silent again. Haku is cool. Naruto comes in, is a mororn. Things go downhill. Ends with a relatively touching scene, which Naruto ruins. Good job, show.

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13125294/9/Naruto-Rewrite-1-Road-to-Ninja

[ask-lightning-n-dusk-blog]

Practice Night

The following is a short story about a kind of interaction between my characters and those of @ask-tay-relic. All credit to the respective owners.

Music mimicked:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BEm0AjTbsac

Practice night arrived. Asthney stepped out of his cottage, Frae quietly following behind him. Asthney was a large dear, a kind called a “Gemsbuck”. He was HUGE, towering a full seven feet in the air.

Behind him, his friend Frae was no where near as imposing. She was a faded yellow with a light blue mane and tale.

Frae's eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of night. She didn't like dark, but this was easy to see in, so it didn't bother her too much.

The large Gemsbuck looked up into the sky.

“My goodness it does'eem like it gones ta rain taday.”

Frae's ears folded down, looking at the near pitch black clouds. “Oh-oh that doesn't look good. Maybe we should stay in today...”

Rarity walked along the side of the home clicking her tongue. “No no dear, you're not getting out that easily, those were actually brought in by Dash. They're just on loan and will be moved later on as they're needed.”

“S-s-still, it-it's very dark,”

“Be fair'ere Rarity, she con stay home ifm' she like.”

“Very well just...”

A small blue colt came out from behind Rarity and looked up at Frae, his eyes wide, “Please... we really want someone to watch... it's been so long since I was able to do something special with my sister. Pleeeeeeease,” he put his hooves together.

“This is Dusk, he's six,” Rarity commented.

Frae looked into the colt's eyes and had to swallow. “It's okay, I'll go.” The colt grinned and skipped back over to Rarity, Frae smiling at him.

Frae got a look at him. He was light blue with a dark blue mane and tale, with yellow highlights in both mane and tail.

Asthney let out a subtle growl. He leaned down to Rarity. “That'ere was dirty.”

“Oh come on, this won't hurt her.”

“Ah did'ell you she's not inta fireworks an'the like.”

“And I believe I told you your Trixie and my Trixie are different ponies. Bard music is melodic and cheerful, not loud and boisterous. She uses her fireworks sometimes, but as part of the show. You'll see.” She chuckled. “Sides, Trixie won't be the loudest one there.”

“That last'art supposed comfort mi?”

“Don't worry,” Rarity reassured. “When Frae sees the eight year old, I doubt she'll be too scared of that.”

The Gemsbuck sighed. Rarity strolled ahead and lead the group.

Dusk looked back and saw Frae moving behind the large buck, almost like she was hiding.

He trotted back to her. Frae moved away from him nervously, but then stopped, noticing it was the small colt again. “Y-you want s-s-something?”

He shook his head. “You just look kinda scared. Can I walk with you? You don't need to be scared. I'll watch out for you.” He smiled having said this.

Frae had to hold back a chortle. The colt wasn't even a quarter her size and he had to trot to keep up with everyone else's casual stroll. She quickly decided he was hardly scary- though to be fair, she would probably have to watch out for him more than the other way around.

Frae had dealt with children before. Her shyness was just a tendency, she was hardly truly afraid of a six year old. All this said, she was thus not at all surprised when the questions started to flow.

“Your friend is really tall- how did he get so big? My daddy is bigger but... wow!”

She smiled. “Your father i-is bigger eh? I wonder what he is then.” her nerves were calming, and with it, her stuttering.

“A dragon.”

I little bit of nervousness returned. “H-h-he is?” The colt nodded. “U-oh. Well I-I- I don't know w-why he's so,” she swallowed. Dusk might have a big dad, but again, he himself was not threatening. “I don't know why Asthney is so big.”

“Your eyes look weird, why?”

“I'm um... partially nocturnal. I don't like to talk about it.”

“Nocturnal?”

She smiled. “I often sleep during the day. Can you ask about something else?”

He shrugged as he kept trotting to keep up. “What's on your back?”

“It's a brace. I got hurt.”

“Oh... um...”

“A long time ago dear.” she said, finally starting to feel the urge to dote just a little. “Don't worry, I'm okay now.”

“You not shy anymore?”

“Not with someone like you kiddo. Now if you were Rarity's size, that might take a while. You're a pretty cool kid,” he grinned. Frae was happy with herself at that.

“I was just found after being missing- my sister was worried sick!”

“I'll bet she was. Don't wander off anymore hm?”

“I didn't,” he defended. “I was chased by a mean stallion.”

“Oh... sorry, didn't mean to accuse. Really... sure that was scary.”

He hung his head a little. “It was.” She watched him, making sure he wasn't too hurt by the memory. He seemed to recover quickly though when they started to approach a clearing.

In fact a huge grin spread across his face.

A yellow filly pretty much appeared with a loud “CLAP!” noise. “Hey hi!” she shouted. Frae grabbed the colt and pulled him and herself into a bush quickly.

The yellow pegasus filly landed. She cocked her head to the side. “It's okay,” Dusk said, struggling in Frae's grasp. “It's just my sister.”

Frae did not let him go, adjusting her eyes. She could see pretty well in the dark, but it wasn't instant. She saw the sister and- she wasn't much bigger than Dusk really. Just a small filly with a sloppy front mane, freckles on only one side of her face and a jagged back mane. Frae smiled sideways a bit. 'Poor thing has probably had her share of teasing looking like that... c'mon Frae, she's just a kid- who just got back her brother. Last thing she needs is you making her self conscious.' She steeled her resolve and came out of the bush, releasing Dusk.

Dusk ran over to her and then turned to just stand beside her. “You here for the show?” the sister asked. “My name is Lightning.”

“M-my name is Frae.”

“That's a cool name,” a clapping noise sounded and suddenly the filly was behind Frae, which startled her. “This thing a brace?” Another clap and the filly was flying above. “Are you-”

Frae chocked out her requst, “P-p-please stop doing th-th-that.” Another clap.

“Stop what?” Lightning asked, now at her side.

A haze of clear magic came up around Lightning and she was pulled away from Frae.

Rarity walked up, keeping Lightning in her magic. “Dear, she's shy, please slow down,” the white mare said.

Lightning hung her head. “I'm not good at that.”

“I see you met the siblings,” Rarity said.

Frae smiled, recovering from Lightning's jumpyness. “I-I think I much prefer the brother.” Lightning hung her wings as Rarity released her magic hold. “Oh-oh dear, I'm sorry- very sorry. I didn't mean you're a bad pony, just not the kind I usually like. I'm a more quiet mare. You're not like me...” the filly hung her head again. 'Great going...' Frae thought. 'Being different isn't easy, you know that.' “I- I di-didn't say we couldn't be friends.” The filly perked up and zipped back to her brother. Frae jumped back, but did her best so swallow her fear for the filly's sake. Lightning picked up her brother and quickly flew off with him.

Rarity sighed, watching the two go. “That one...” she said. “We're trying to reel her in a bit, but we suspect some of her energy comes from her ability.”

“Ability?” Frae asked.

“She controls and absorbs electricity,” Rarity replied simply.

“Kind of explains it,” Frae said.

Rarity moved on and sat on a hill over looking the valley, Frae and Asthney joined her. “S-so are the children watching too or-”

“Heavens no, they're part of the show darling.”

“Oh...” Frae looked towards the valley with new curiosity.

A long shadow fell over the group, but Frae didn't hide like she normally would. Instead she smiled over her shoulder, seeing her old friend Tay Relic walk up. Tay was almost as tall as Asthney, but she had known him as a gentle story teller for a while.

Tay wasn't heavy set like Asthney. Instead mostly just overly tall. His feathers and mane were purple, while her body was orange. Also her the bottoms of her legs were purple.

Rarity smiled up at him. Tay nodded down to her. “I got the invitation from Rainbow Dash. I also heard you had a book?”

Rarity sighed. “You were supposed to get a look at it ahead of time.” She still passed the large  orange alicorn a book titled “There and Back Again: A Hobbit's Tale”.

“Cliff notes, we're watching a song from the book,” Rarity said.

Frae looked down into the valley again.

In the valley was a wagon, in front of which was a white unicorn wearing purple sunglasses. The white unicorn was surrounded by a small assortment of speakers and woofers. It was Vinyl Scratch. Frae smiled, remembering she got her pet fox from the unicorn not long ago. A few feet away sat a blue unicorn talking to the children.

The unicorn was blue with light blue almost white hair- oh, she knew that mare too. “Um... T-Trixie?” Frae asked. She did remember something about her being in the show, but she also remembered she normally didn't like Trixie's magic shows. Trixie was loud and liked to do death defying stunts, not the kind of thing Frae liked to watch. Still... she wasn't alone, so she could at least try to be brave, she surmised to herself.

Rarity nodded to her. “Don't worry Frae, she's not your Trixie, just like I'm not your Rarity. This Trixie is a bard, not a magician.”

“Y-you're not my Rarity?” Frae asked, getting a little nervous.”

“Sorry, didn't mention that. Promise I'm a good mare.”

Frae wasn't sure now if she was brought under a false pretense, but... well Asthney was here to protect her so she again, resolved to be brave.

“You're not... our Rarity?” Tay asked.

“Yes, I'm from another universe.” Rarity said.

“I have... a lot of questions. How many can you answer?”

“Before the show- it's about to start. Besides, I wager you'll have even more questions by the time it's over,” Rarity replied.

“Will this be loud music?” Frae asked. She had already resolved to stay, but she wanted to be able to brace herself at least.

“Not really,” Rarity assured.

Frae looked back down into the valley. She watched as Trixie used her magic to set up a series of large dark panels. Then the blue mare sat with the small blue colt next to her. She nodded to Vinyl. Vinyl waved her horn in the air a few times, a pair of glowing orbs appearing. The two orbs flew down to Trixie and Dusk, impacting their necks around the voice box.

A- VERY deep voice suddenly came from Trixie as she started speaking to announce her show.

“Hello, fillies and gentle colts, we now present to you, Trixie and Vinyl together once again, for a performance of, Misty Mountain.” Trixie nodded to Lightning, who quickly took off and shot up into the night sky. Frae tried to follow the filly, but she was soon lost in the clouds.

The speakers started to play, deep male voices were played, humming a strange but intriguing tune.

The humming lulled a bit and “RUMBLE!” A quiet thunder came over the sky above. Frae backed up a little, but then remembered the filly. “Is Lightning causing the thunder?” Frae asked outloud.

Rarity nodded but “shushed” her.

The humming started anew.

Another rumble went out, just before the singing of the song began. Down in the valley, Trixie lit her horn.

“Far over the misty mountains cold...” Trixie sang. Trixie projected blue lights that gave the outline of a mountain.

“To dungeons deep and caverns old.” The lights changed to show the opening of a cave.

“We must away, ere break of day,” The lights quickly disappeared. Then suddenly, a large yellow ball appeared in their place.

“To find our long-forgotten gold.” The lights disappeared again.

Dusk joined the singing, his voice now just as deep. “The pines were roaring on the height,” the lights reappeared and seemed to outline trees.

“The winds were moaning in the night.” Trixie waved her hooves, the lights disappearing, but a small gust of wind flowing away from her and through the grass of the valley.

“The fire was red, it flaming spread;” Fire then followed the wind, quickly going out before it could have been threatening.

Frae smiled, enjoying the song so far- Ill timing, as a very loud rumble now echoed out and she pulled down her head.

“The trees like torches blazed with light,”

The song was then repeated, with the same effects.

The song ended.

Lightning came back down out of the clouds and zipped over her audience. “So? What did you think?”

[pasteladins]

Sorry I Like You

Parings: Kiralfonse F/M

Summary: Alfonse was avoiding Kiran, and she was not happy about it.

Alfonse had been acting strange lately, and Kiran was not sure why.

During the council meetings, he would avoid her and sit on the opposite side of the table. When she wanted to sit with him in the mess hall, Alfonse would hastily excuse himself -- even if he had just arrived moments ago, frantically handing his food to a very happy Stahl.

The worst part was that he tried to avoid any private time altogether. Before, the two would often meet at least once a week for a cup of tea -- a way to unwind and distract themselves from the ongoing war. However, whenever Kiran would ask, the Askran prince would frown and give a short reply explaining why he couldn’t make it that week.

“I must inspect our inventory.”

“I promised Sharena I would help her with something.”

“Lord Marth wanted to spar for a moment.”

It had been weeks since their last little hang out, and honestly, Kiran was upset. Had she done something wrong? The summoner wracked her mind for any possible reasons that could have caused the bluenette to become so aloof all of a sudden, but nothing came to mind.

They were finally getting along… Their relationship evolved from idle chit chat after war meetings, to eventually sharing their hopes and dreams under the starlit skies. It was a bond stronger than steel, so to speak. Something that neither of which had felt so strongly before. Kiran confessed to him her fears and insecurities as the chief tactician, and, in turn, Alfonse confessed his own anxieties as well -- specifically regarding her presence.

“But you're always there when I need you, to the extent that when you're not near, I feel...not quite myself.”

His voice resonated clear through her mind as she recalled the night they spent under the blanket of stars. Her hands held onto the grass beneath her as she listened to her close friend. His eyes conveyed a vulnerability that she never knew he was capable of obtaining, and, at that moment, she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and reassure him that he was a noble person. However, her own secret fears prevented her from doing so.

Instead, the tactician sat down, her eyes shining in a different kind of vulnerability. More intimate, more like love. Was it love…?

Kiran mentally chastised herself as she yanked her cowl forward in an attempt to push her inappropriate feelings away. Love me? That would be ridiculous. The prince of Askr had much more pressing matters to attend to than to look for a romantic relationship -- especially with his chief tactician. What silly fairy tale has she been reading? The prince was her friend and that fact was as clear as the water that flowed across the boarder.

Still, Kiran remained anxious over the recent events. What did she do that caused him such displeasure? Was she not the Divine Summoner he thought she was? Was she just not worthy?

All this worrying annoyed Kiran, and she let out a frustrated groan as she hid her face in her gloved hands.

“I don’t know what I did,” She whispered, lowering her cowl, “but I have to fix this!”

With her newfound resolve, Kiran ran down the castle halls.

The summoner went around the pristine palace, asking her fellow heroes about the whereabouts of the Askran Prince, and one hero, Robin, noticed him walking towards the garden, looking rather glum as well; all the more reason to check on him.

Thanking Robin for the info, the summoner made her way to the garden. After taking residence in the castle for more than half a year, Kiran figured out her way around the castle. Actually, it was Alfonse who helped her the most. He spotted her late one night, lost and depressed, all because she wanted a glass of water for her nightstand. Alfonse heard her quiet sniffling as she went through every room in the hallway. Although the tired woman claimed that it was just for a glass of water, the Askran prince figured that she was feeling overwhelmed and homesick. From that moment on, he made it his personal duty to help her adjust to life in the castle.

Once she made it to the entrance of the gardens, Kiran took slow, quiet steps. If Alfonse could hear her, he would most likely run away; she needed to surprise him. That way, he had no chance to escape.

Kiran hunched next to a bush and listened for the clinking of those golden boots, all the while peeking through the tiny holes from said bush. Finally, after a few moments, the Breidablik-wielder spotted the Prince. He was sitting on a bench, looking as if he was deep in thought. However, by the look of his forlorn face, they didn’t seem like happy thoughts.

Slowly, Kiran scurried her way to the bench, efficiently using the bushes for cover. Alfonse was too distracted to even noticed her getting any closer, so that helped as well.

When she deemed it close enough, Kiran jumped out, casually walking toward him and greeting him like she usually did. “Alfonse, I was looking for you!” Her casual tone deceiving her nervous mind that was in a frenzy.

The startled royal nearly jumped out of his seat, his mind now set in panic. He desperately looked for a way out, but Kiran was getting too close, and she was blocking the quickest exit.

“K-Kiran! What a surprise!” He could feel his heart beating so quickly and powerfully. “Lovely to see you! Unfortunately, Commander Anna asked me to help her with a new money-making scheme of hers!” He gracefully tiptoed his way around the summoner as she came closer. “I must be on my way!”

“W-Wait!” She tried to grab his arm, only to miss him as he ran off. Again? Seriously? Maybe she had done something wrong. Maybe she wasn’t that fun to be around. Sure, the other heroes had enjoyed her company, but why not Alfonse?

...And why did it hurt the most? It made her chest heave in an uneven rhythm, a hollow feeling engulfing her body as her stomach tied itself into knots. She also could have sworn she felt her eyes burning, threatening to spill tears. The act of being rejected by Alfonse was a pain worse than she ever imagined.

Was it because she cared about him so much? Yes. This was his way of rejecting her, but he at least owed her a verbal confirmation that he didn’t like her.

“Fine.” Kiran finally spoke, her voice cracking slightly as she clenched her fists. “Go be happy somewhere else.”

Upon hearing this, the Askran prince turned around. “...excuse me?”

“Oh don’t give me that!” Kiran’s shoulders tensed up, and she could feel her eyes brimming with tears, the frustration she was holding in ready to burst out.

“You’ve been ignoring me these past few weeks! I-I know you told me that you didn’t want to get close to the heroes, but I…” She hesitated, her voice quieting down to a trembling whisper that Alfonse had to lean in to hear. “I thought things would change...”

She swallowed hard to suppress the sob that was caught in her throat. “We used to hang out all the time, and that made me happy!” Her eyes could no longer contain the tears, and she let them flow freely as she spilled her thoughts.

“I really thought that… that we were friends…” She clenched her fist even harder, trying to gain back a steady tone, but all that was left was her meek and trembling voice. “B-But if you don’t want that, then fine! Just stop running away like a coward and tell me the truth!!”

She lowered her head and watched as droplets of tears fell onto the stone floor beneath her. “Just tell me you don’t want to be around me.”

It was unnervingly silent, save for the snivelling of the tactician as she desperately waited for an answer.

Gentle, hesitant steps made contact with the stone floor until the Askran prince was close -- too close. Kiran gritted her teeth, hot tears dripping down her face in a pathetic display.

“I…”

Say it. Just. Say it.

“I’m so sorry, Kiran.”

The summoner’s eyes widened and she whipped her head up, bewilderment dominating her thoughts. “...ah…?” Her voice was lost.

Alfonse’s face expressed nothing but guilt and shame as his eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes glimmering with that same vulnerability from that night under the cosmos. He gingerly grasped Kiran’s shoulders. His grip was soft and almost trembling, as if she was made of glass and he was afraid of breaking her fragile body.

“None of this is your fault. The blame is entirely mine.” He took a shaky breath before resuming his oncoming rant.

“I’ve grown to enjoy our time. As I’ve said before, your presence always put me at ease.” His frown grew. “But… lately I’ve begun to express emotions I shouldn’t.”

The summoner tilted her head in confusion, silently urging him to elaborate on his statement.

“This feeling… It comes up when you are around. It’s… warm, and… elating.” His eyes were now looking into hers. “I had figured out what it was. It was love.”

Alfonse’s words caused Kiran to tense her shoulders, and she remained unresponsive from shock, The prince took this as a bad sign, and he retreated within himself, quickly letting her go and letting his arms hang low in defeat.

“I-I was afraid you would reject me. After all, you are so busy with creating strategies and checking on the well-being of the other heroes -- there was no room for me in your heart. Not only that, but I am constantly afraid that you would one day disappear like Zacharias. It sounds ridiculous, but I cannot open myself to such a risk again. So I concluded that the only way to suppress these feelings was to avoid you.”

Kiran’s heart was aching, begging to release her own hidden feelings, but her mouth was still clamped up in fear.

“However, it only made things worse.” Alfonse closed his eyes shut as he recalled all the moments he ran away from her. He would make brief eye contact with her one night in the mess hall, and she was very close to tears. The summoner’s expression bore deep into his mind. “Seeing you so confused and hurt… I-I couldn’t take it, but I assumed that this was for the best.”

He slowly opened his eyes, giving her one last, earnest look. “I knew that it hurt you, yet I still continued with this act for so long. And I am truly sorry. Gods, I’m so sorry, Kiran.”

Alfonse expected her to be angry. He expected her to yell at him, curse him; he deserved it after what he did.

However, he was shocked when he was almost tackled by the summoner. She wrapped her arms around his torso and nuzzled her hidden face into his chest.

“K-Kiran?” The prince was taken aback, his arms frozen in place, unsure of what to do.

“You fool!!” Her muffled yelling was still clear to him. “What made you think that this was a good idea? I was so scared that I offended you somehow! I was incredibly upset, because…” Now it was her turn to confess. “...b-because…” Alfonse already said it, so she had to as well. Kiran pushed herself away from his chest in order to look him in the eyes.

“Because I love you, too!!” Her face was a blushing red mess, possibly from the crying, possibly from embarrassment, possibly both.

Now Alfonse was confused, his shining blue orbs staring intently at her own.

So she… also had feelings for him, and she also attempted to bury them. How ironic. He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips, an action that offended Kiran.

The summoner huffed, pulling her arms away and crossing them against her chest. “Wh-What?!”

“M-My apologies…” He relented, giving her a gentle smile as he walked closer. “It’s just silly now that you think about it. We felt the same way, and yet, neither of us acted on it.”

Kiran let her arms fall to her sides and she finally smiled as well, seeing the childishness in it all. “Y-Yeah... And both of us hid it like fools.” She shook her head, hesitantly leaning in again, as if silently asking for another hug. “What do you think, though? Would you… I mean…” She didn’t have to even finish her sentence, as Alfonse gave her a warm smile. He pulled her into another hug, gently running one hand through her silky hair while the other hand rubbed soothing circles on her back.

“Yes. Of course.” Was all Alfonse had to whisper as he closed his eyes and entered a blissful state.

Kiran let out a happy sigh as she returned the embrace, wrapping her arms around his torso again and closing her eyes.

“Alfonse?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

(( Listen, I’m supposed to be working on bio hw but this is important. Anyways, I haven’t posted any of my Kiralfonse fics so I’m brushing up the ones I like and posting them here. Maybe. Sorry it’s a bit lengthy. ))

[lady-hammerlock]

Assassin’s Creed Rogue - The Novel - Chapter 16

AN: Yes, we’ve made it up to Lisbon. 0-0 Poor Shay.

2nd August 1757

It has taken me a long time to reach this part in my tale. Unlike the retelling of my father’s death, I think I have prepared myself sufficiently in order to write this time. Admittedly it has taken me a while to steel my spirits, as well as a healthy helping of actual spirits at the insistence of my first mate. I do worry about the amount of alcohol Gist consumes, but I must admit that at moments like this it can rouse a man’s spirit and steady his resolve.

The events that occurred next, and which severed my attachment to the Assassin cause once and for all are still enough to shake me to my core now, and recalling them makes my hands shake and brings tears to my eyes. You shall see why very soon, and I am sure that you will not judge me poorly for being so affected.

I still find it hard to fathom that I ever played a part in something so monstrous, or that Achilles and my supposed friends among the Assassins could find it so easy to ignore my fears and cast me aside.

The ship that the Assassins had hired pulled into Lisbon on the 1st of November, 1755. It was the Feast of All Saints. If you are reading this now then undoubtedly you will have some idea of what I am about to tell you, although I doubt that you could have ever guessed the dreadful part that I played in such a tragedy.

I remember being in a good mood. We had made good time during the crossing, and while I was not with the Morrigan and my men the larger ship and her larger crew had been kind enough to me. I had no friends among them, but as a full-fledged Assassin I did command a certain amount of respect.

I had fond memories of Lisbon as well. We had pulled into port there several times when I had been serving on board the Cyrene with my father, and I had made a few friends in the city, including the sisters that I had mentioned to Hope.

And here is when I confess that I had not been lying at all when I had mentioned my association with the sisters. We had stayed in Lisbon for a couple of weeks to allow the men to enjoy themselves and rest up, and during that time the sisters of a particular convent had made me feel very comfortable and welcome indeed. I must also confess that even though I had spent a lot of time in the convent during my previous visits, this would be the first time that I had ever actually stepped foot inside the church itself, and it would not be to converse with God.

The ship needed to restock and see to a couple of repairs. I organised the most basic of these before heading off into the city. I planned to take care of my mission for the Assassins first, and then see to lodgings and trading. I had intended to give the crew and myself a few days of rest in Lisbon before we had to set out again, but as you will soon find out, that plan of mine never came to pass.

I made my way directly to the church that the box had shown me, my feet taking me there almost instinctively, as though it had only been weeks and not years since I had last been in the city. As I approached the church I contemplated whether or not I should visit the convent and the most excellent sisters that lived within. The Mother Superior had been none too happy with me the last time that I had tried to visit the girls, and had yelled at me in a rather threatening and blasphemous manner. Perhaps it would be worth it, but I needed to finish my business with the Precursor site first.

As I approached the church I found myself simply standing there and admiring it for the longest time. It is, or rather, was, a grand old building, one of the finest churches I had ever laid eyes on. Flowering vines of pink and green tried their most valiantly to overwhelm the walls of the church, but only served to enhance its beauty. It is hard to explain, but there was something else as well; something so very strange and overwhelming about that building on that day; a sort of magic to it that I would have sworn had not existed before. Perhaps part of me could sense the Precursor site that lay below, or perhaps I could just finally appreciate the beauty of the church itself without worrying about the beauty of the girls in the convent nearby.

As I walked inside the church I discovered that the interior was no less beautiful. My eyes were immediately drawn to the large stained glass window that stood near the back of the church. Looking down on the church goers was not the benevolent or judgemental eyes of one of the saints or angels, but a depiction of a large tree, its roots digging deep into the earth just as its branches reached for the sky. It was this stained glass window that I had seen in the vision the box had granted me.

There could be no doubt about it. I was in the right place.

A small group of people had gathered near the altar, and were listening to a priest’s sermon. I paid them no heed, and none of them turned to look at me as I surveyed the church. Normal sight did not reveal anything too strange about the building, but switching to Eagle Vision revealed a series of triangular symbols near the top of the church that seemed to glow when I focused on them. They lay out of reach for a normal person like the innocent church-goers, but would surely prove accessible to someone who had been trained by the Assassins in climbing, as I had.

I glanced over at the small congregation to make sure that no-one was watching me, and then began to climb the wall, finding that the ornate carvings in the church made for excellent foot and handholds. The triangular symbol that I had seen glowing in Eagle Vision proved to be part of a carved stone plaque embedded in the wall. A smaller, less elaborate version of the stained glass window depicting a tree sat above the carving as well.

After close examination I found that there was a hole just large enough to fit my hidden blade. Between the markings visible only in Eagle Vision, the placement of these locks and then this small detail it felt as though this puzzle had been prepared specifically to be solved by someone like me. Perhaps the Assassins had been the ones to hide this Precursor site away in the first place, or perhaps it was just destiny, although what a shite destiny mine would prove to be if what happened in Lisbon was inescapable.

I pressed down on the mechanism near my wrist, slotting the blade into place. It fit perfectly, but nothing happened. I twisted my hand, causing the blade to turn within the hole, like a key turning a lock and felt something click into place. It was faint, but I heard something shift from somewhere down below me as well.

I looked down at the floor to discover that something had definitely changed. In an alcove near the back of the church a section of the floor had risen up. It was one of four quarters of a circle, and lay right beneath the largest of the stained glass trees. Switching back to Eagle Vision and looking around at the rest of the church, I found that I could spot three similar symbols, all positioned near the top of the church like the first had been, and all marked by the same tree in some manner. It seemed that I would have to activate all four if I was to unlock the church’s secrets.

Now that I knew what was required of me it seemed like easy enough work to scale over the church’s ceiling and walls in order to unlock all four locations. I kept an eye out on the people below me as I did, afraid that someone would look up and spot me at any moment, and would no doubt demand that I cease my reckless behaviour, but no-one did look up or pay any notice to the panels that were slowly unlocking near the back of the church. I do not know whether they were simply too absorbed in their own doings or the preaching of their Father, or whether some other power was at work, but no-one paid any attention to me.

I soon had all four quarters of the circle raised and descended back down to the ground. I made my way to the back of the church, once more using the old trick of simply looking like I knew exactly where I was going.

I was not sure what unlocking all four quarters of the circle had accomplished, but assumed I would be able to examine the circle and find out easily enough. There was no need to however. As soon I stepped onto the circle the entire thing began to shudder and sink down into the floor, taking me with it.

In front of me lay a staircase that descended deep below the church. I glanced around to make sure no-one was watching me, took a deep breath and then began walking down the stairs.

I could feel my heart thudding in my chest as I journeyed down below the earth. The darkness proved to be not nearly as complete as I had initially feared it might. The tunnel I journeyed along lit up as I passed through it, the walls and floor coming to life with a magical blue glow not unlike that which had emerged from the Precursor box.

I soon found myself inside an enormous cavern. It was the first time that I had seen a Precursor site, and it took my breath away. Black walls of cold, hard stone stretched all around and up above me. It was hard to believe that such an enormous and impressive space had existed right beneath Lisbon and yet no-one had found it until that day. I was the first, and I would be the last.

At the centre of the cavern stood an enormous monolith. I had no idea how I was supposed to reach it, because there was no path, and a large chasm of nothing existed between myself and it. I need not have worried however. As I stepped forward a path materialised in front of me, smooth black panels that glowed with that familiar blue light rising up out of the chasm to form a rather convenient bridge between myself and the monolith.

I was hesitant to step foot on the panels. Nothing was holding them up, and it felt as though they should disappear beneath me as soon as I put my weight on them. I took another deep breath and continued on however, and found the panels to be, at that moment at least, as strong and as sturdy as the earth itself.

A section of the monolith slid open at my approach, as though freely offering up that which lay within.

Liam and Achilles had told me very little about what an Apple of Eden might look like; small, spherical, a little larger than a person’s fist; the object in front of me sort of resembled that description. It was dark, and covered in spikes, each of them with a glowing tip. It had to be an Apple though, right? After all, this was clearly the Precursor site we had been looking for. What else could it be?

I reached out to touch the artefact, lifting it carefully in both hands. It began to glow as soon as I held it. I remember finding the glow fascinating, and wondering if perhaps the Apple, or whatever it was that I had recovered, was going to do something extraordinary.

I had only been holding it for a second or two when the glow grew, covering the entire surface of the object. The glow pulsed, and then even more suddenly, the object in my hands swiftly crumbled and turned into nothing more than dust.

I stared at it, wondering whether it was supposed to behave in such a strange manner. Nothing that Achilles or Liam or Hope had told me had prepared me for this. Had I done something wrong?

I wasn’t given long to contemplate it. The ground started shaking beneath me. The ceiling too, rocks falling down to smash against the stone path that I was standing on.

I began to run as the chamber collapsed behind me. At first I thought that it must just be the chamber collapsing, but I was wrong. Lord forgive me, I was so wrong.

When I exited the chamber I found that the church was shaking and collapsing as well. All around me people were screaming as the earth shuddered beneath them, large cracks opening up beneath their feet.

I continued to run, and all around me the earth shook and buildings crumbled. Fire, spilled from lanterns or candles, spread to consume whole houses. People screamed as their homes, their whole lives, disappeared right in front of them, as the ones that they loved lay trapped by falling bricks or timber, or, in many cases, crushed and killed by it.

The entire city of Lisbon was burning and falling to the ground, and I knew right away that it was all because of what I had done with the Precursor artefact. Because of our meddling, the Assassins had managed to destroy an entire city, and end countless innocent lives.

The minutes following that were a blur. I knew that I had to try and make it back to the harbour, to my ship and crew where I hoped I would be safe. I ran, barely away of where my feet were taking me. Around every corner there was another person screaming, another life abruptly cut short, another broken ruin.

I barely made it through. I remember falling several times, trying to run across the rooftops only for them to suddenly shift or collapse beneath me. At one stage a half dozen voices cried out only to be cut short as the building in which they stood collapsed on top of them with little warning. People cried out to the Lord to save them, but if he exists then I think that on that day he could not have been listening.

God forgive me, it was like a scene straight from hell.

I am sure that no matter how long I live, no matter how much I might redeem myself, I will never be able to forget that day; the fires, the screams, the ground shaking beneath me as I tried to run.

Eventually I found my way to a cliff overlooking the sea. I flung myself into the water and swam for my ship as fast as my arms could take me. A couple of my men helped me climb on board, and we all stood there for a while, staring at what had, only a few minutes earlier, been the city of Lisbon.

Black smoke and the glow of fire covered the entire city. It looked like a war zone, and was barely recognisable as the grand city that I had stepped foot in just that morning.

“How could God do this to them?” one of the crew asked.

“God had nothing to do with this,” I replied.

It was true after all. It was all my fault, and the fault of the Assassin mentor who had sent me in to steal that artefact so blindly. All of the destruction and death in Lisbon that day could clearly be blamed on the Assassins.

I wanted to stay and help those who had suffered in Lisbon, but, as certain members of the crew that Achille shad saddled me with were quick to remind me, my duties to the Assassins came first, and we would be of little use ourselves considering how low on supplies the ship now was.

Morale was understandably down. Some of the crew had been ashore when the earthquake had started, and several of them had failed to make it back to the ship in time to be saved.

Before heading for the colonies we sailed North and stopped in the fishing colony of Peniche. We were able to take on some desperately needed supplies, and also received more news regarding what had happened in Lisbon. No-one knew the exact toll then, but they were already sure that the dead numbered in the thousands.

Simply listening to the news made me sick to the stomach. The thought that I could have been involved in something so monstrous was nearly beyond my ability to comprehend. We stayed in Peniche for only a day or so, and then, with heavy hearts, we sailed for the colonies.

The trip from Portugal back to the colonies was a long one. From what little I remember the crossing itself was reasonably calm. We had anticipated rough seas and large waves thanks to the earthquake, but the sea itself was gentle. It did not suit my mood at all.

I could barely sleep. Whenever I closed my eyes I could see the broken ruins of Lisbon falling all around me. In my nightmares my mind taunted with images of death; of fire and the ground shaking and collapsing all around me, and the screams of all of those I had inadvertently condemned to death.

I was lost in those months. I longed for Liam, or for anyone who might be able to sooth my grief and rage, but there was no-one I could turn to. The crew tried to help where they could, but they were all just as shocked by the events they had witnessed as I was, and I could hardly tell them what had happened beneath the church.

I was tempted to find solace in drink and I might have once, as I had when my father had died, but I resisted. Instead, I found myself becoming furious, with the world, with myself, and with Achilles, for sending me on this fool’s errand.

So many had died, and it was all our fault; mine, and Achilles. After such a monstrous mistake, how could we possibly make things right? It didn’t seem as though there was any answer, and so I wallowed in my grief, and my rage and guilt both slowly grew.

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[fanfic-collection]

Demon!Loki x Reader: NSFW

Ugh, it’s so bad and I meant to post it earlier but got held up and now I just don’t want to post it at all because the ending sucks and the smut is bad and I kinda want a beta reader but I also want to surprise everyone, but if I have someone tell me it’s not bad that might help my confidence and sorry for rambling, this should be in the tags but oh well.

Loki as a demon, horn, wings and claws, possibly dubcon but I don’t even know

The wind whispered ominously through the trees as you slowly wound your way along the solitary path in your town's local forest. Trees arched and snaked over the path, reaching out at you like massive clawed beasts, groaning as they swayed in the breeze. Strangely, here at their bases, the air was still, chilly and thick like a haze settling over the ground. Your pace quickened as you heard more noises from behind you.

Yes, the traditional spooky local small town haunted forest. It was innocent enough during the day, even harboring the occasional deer, some birds making nests on its edges. During the day, young lovers would stand just a few paces inside, doing what young love encouraged or carving their undying love into tree bark and adding to the countless other declarations that had gathered through the years.

All that changed at night.

Only a few of the more country folk dared venture deep into the woods during the light of day, some sort of presence seemed to encourage deer to take residence in the forest, just as quickly gutting them and bleeding them dry each night. No one talked about what it might be, just a damn shame that the innocent creatures kept dying. The nature of their deaths was especially peculiar but local park service rangers always looked the other way, merely shrugging and denying anything. All the rangers were quick to be home from the forest before the sun dipped past the horizon. No one ever said why, just a laugh with a knowing look. It was never questioned.

As you looked up at the cloudy moonless sky, you swallowed hard, barely able to see it through the thick treeline. It was very much night, if the moon had been visible, it would've been directly overhead.

You had grown up in this town, accustomed to hearing the stories, always diligently giving the forest its wide berth, being home by dark, the usual. But tonight, on a whim, returning to meet up with old friends at one of the bars, the subject of the old childhood game of truth or dare came up.

You had long been the good student, the well behaved adult, the person who followed directions to the letter, content with their books and stories and never stepping out of line. Your childhood friends teased you to no end, and tonight was no different. Finally, fed up, and just a little spurred on by liquid courage, you declared yourself ready to take on any dare they threw at you.

Hushed whispers followed, what extent would you really go for this supposed declaration? The conversation circled around the room, slowly making its way back to you. You watched them smugly, trying to maintain your false confidence, ready for anything they might throw at you.

"What about the forest?" The offer came casually. All eyes fell upon the speaker, for the sun had just set. You hesitated, remembering the stories all too well. Doubt sprang up, everyone waiting for you to switch to truth, claiming you'd just been bluffing.

"I'll do it." You had stood up, downing the last of your drink.

"Just walk through it, there's a path from one side to the other. "

Everyone knew the path, where it started and ended on each side. The rangers maintained it well enough, no child daring to use it.

"Fine." You replied calmly, not betraying your growing apprehension. Now would be the best chance to throw aside your goody reputation and have people take you seriously.

Fifteen minutes later, you were dropped off with only the light from your phone to guide you through the forest. Your friends promised to be waiting for you at the other side, the path shouldn't take more than an hour to walk. In daylight it was a half hour trek but with poor lighting, you knew you'd move slower.

As soon as you stepped foot in the forest, clouds had drifted over the moon, blocking it from view. You swallowed hard, one last wave to your friends as you steeled your resolve and began your trip. Immediately the outside world was muffled, as though you'd stepped into a different realm. So many roots poked out of the ground, threatening to trip you up, but with the meager light of your phone, you managed to keep a steady pace.

Around fifteen minutes in, time tracked with the help of your phone, you realized one of the many reasons the forest was so eerie: no life broke the silence, only the creaking of the trees. No bugs scurried under foot, crickets chirping in the wood, no flies buzzing around your head on this late summer day. The last you were thankful for, but it still unnerved you. You imagined that even in the day, no birdsong would pierce the gloom, but hoped they were merely sleeping.

As you walked, your senses grew more heightened, an ominous dread growing at the pit of your stomach. What could cause the eerie silence? You were so deep in the forest, even the wind struggled to move through the undergrowth. Yet still the trees swayed on, alive by their own right. You glanced at your phone, based on the time, you should be near the heart of the forest. It didn't even surprise you to see your phone flashing a no signal warning. As you placed the phone back in your pocket, you looked up, eyes scanning the gloom, certain you had heard movement. What's more, was the distinct feeling of being watched. You were a trespasser here, it would be unwise to call out to whoever watched you. Whatever might live in the forest would surely be unfriendly. Your mind helpfully flashed back to the memory of the deer, reminding you just how gruesome their deaths had been. Surely they were kids' tales, idle warnings about once dangerous times? Yet the look of the local bar patrons upon your announcement that you were going into the forest convinced you otherwise. You had continued walking, after a few steps, you were certain there was an echo that hadn't been there before.

Remembering a tactic from a book you'd read, you feigned tripping, listening for the echo. Much to your horror, the echo was slow to copy it, taking a few more steps before the tripping sound hit you. You froze, hands clenching into fists as your heart thudded in your chest. Spinning around, you saw nothing there. Your eyes had adjusted to the dark and you feared using your phone would put you at a disadvantage, or worse drain the battery. You looked back at the path and saw a short distance ahead was a small clearing. If an ambush were to happen, that would be the place.

Bravery from some unknown source rose within you. If you were going to die over some stupid dare, you planned to face it with dignity. Maybe you were really just overreacting, maybe one of your friends had followed you to scare you? The hopeful words quickly melted away as you heard a guttural laugh echo from all around you. Your throat went dry and you struggled to swallow. For a moment, you closed your eyes as you walked. When you reopened them, you stood in the clearing, mercifully alone. A few meters away, you could see where the path continued, the second half of your journey within reach, at least you figured.

A surge of hope rushed through you and you took a step forward. A strong gust of wind cut through the clearing, the clouds quickly moving overhead and revealing the moon. It lit the clearing in its pale silvery hue, the deep green grass fully visible. From behind you, a loud Crack echoed around the clearing. Instinctively, you spun around, yet saw nothing. You swallowed hard, once more turning forward before you got yourself lost from spinning around.

To your horror, someone, or rather something, stood blocking your path. You let out a strangled scream, throat dry from fear.

"Little lamb," the creature spoke in a deep velvety voice, and though it stood several meters from you, it seemed to be whispering in your ear, "what, pray tell, are you doing in my forest?" The creature moved forward lithely. It seemed to be a man, at least you hoped, yet from his back protruded two massive black leathery wings. His torso was bare, covered in strange tattoo like runes and he wore black trousers tucked into tall black leather boots. Your eyes scanned back up his lean torso to his face and you found yourself stunned by appearance. The creature, though it appeared to be quite human in much of its appearance, had long black hair, falling loosely at his shoulders, two horns jutting out of its temples and curling back over the crown of its head.

Yet the face is what drew most of your attention. He had high arching cheek bones, a thin straight nose and eyes pure black, they flashed back to a gorgeous green shade as you examined the creature. It shocked you how attractive this monster straight out of horror stories could look, even down to the lethally sharp looking claw like nails at the ends of his hands. They hung loosely at his sides before slowly moving up and crossing over his chest as he cocked his head to look at you.

"Answer my question." The creature demanded softly. It surprised you such a feat was possible.

"I'm, I'm just passing through." You managed to stammer.

The creature smiled coldly, revealing long sharp teeth. "No one just passes through, lamb." The creature moved forward. "This is the forest of the devil, of Loki, you are aware?"

You looked at him warily, involuntarily stepping back. "I just needed to cross through."

Loki's hand shot out, latching around your throat and lifted you off the ground. "No one passes through, the price is your life." You gasped, sputtering and choking as you struggled for air. You gripped his hands futilely with yours, trying to relieve the pressure. "And yet," Loki paused, looking you up and down. Spots danced across your vision as your legs struggled uselessly. "It has been many years since a meal such as yourself has crossed my path, perhaps, if you satisfy me, I will let you live." His hand released and you fell to the forest floor, landing on your knees. You struggled for breath, coughing and massaging your throat as you gasped for sweet oxygen. His words slowly sank into your oxygen starved brain as you looked back up at him.

"Satisfy?" You croaked.

Loki scowled staring down at you, "my meaning is unfamiliar?" He tilted his head to the side, eyes slowly widening and a smile spreading across his face. He grabbed you by the hair, forcing you unsteadily to your feet. Loki held you in place for a moment, allowing you to find your footing before leaning forward. Hand still gripping your hair, Loki's tongue darted out and ghosted along your throat. You moaned at the touch, horrified by how easily he could play you. Loki's eyes fluttered shut, a soft groan sounding from deep in his throat. "Virgin flesh." He growled, eyes opening. Once more, he flashed you a sharp tooth smile, "you truly are a rare treat."

You flushed at his words, quickly crossing your arms, why were you embarrassed? School, work and life had been so hectic and here was this demonic creature practically preening over the thought of you.

Loki looked you up and down, his forked tongue darting out along his lips as he nodded slowly. "Yes, you will do nicely lamb. But I am no monster," he shrugged stretching out the leathery wings from behind him, "rather, I will have you begging for me before I find my own release, understand? If you satisfy me, I will let you leave with your life. If not..." Loki glanced up at the sky, "I suppose there are other uses I can find for you."

You stared up at him, for he was quite a bit taller than you, knees trembling. Perhaps if you made a run for it, while he was seemingly distracted, perhaps you could make it to the other edge of the clearing? As soon as the thought came to you, you pushed it away, knowing that was hopeless. You studied the creature, Loki, again and thought of his offer. Did you truly want to risk running, he had said he would make you enjoy it, and there was no denying how attractive he was, demonic wings and horns and everything. You bit your lip.

Loki looked back towards you and smiled, “Lamb, your thoughts are written all over your face, you couldn’t escape me if you tried.” He stalked forward and you found yourself slowly backing away until your back hit a tree branch. “And do you even want to escape?” He whispered softly, leaning down into your ear. “I can smell your desire, your want,” he chuckled softly, “make this easier on yourself.” His hand reached out, sliding down your chest, wrapping around your waist, “give in to your darkest desires, pet.”

You felt your face flush, your gut coiling in anticipation and your head nod. It didn’t even feel like you were in control of your body, your instincts had kicked in, wanting this more badly than anything you had ever wanted in your life.

Loki leaned forward, his lips meeting yours in a hungry kiss. You allowed your own lips to part, his forked tongue snaking in and winding all around your mouth. It amazed you how long and versatile it was, searching and exploring every crevice. You moaned loudly into the kiss, hands reaching up to wrap around his bare shoulders.

Loki chuckled again, finally pulling away. You weren’t even aware that your eyes had drifted shut until you found yourself reopening them, mouth still hanging open where Loki’s lips had left yours. He took his clawed thumb and carefully slid it along your still agape lips, tenderly feeling the flesh.

“What those lips would feel like on my cock…” He murmured, smiling as your mouth snapped shut. “Perhaps another time.”

Once more, he gripped your hair, hands tangling in it wildly and pulling you up for a deep kiss. You started to struggle for breath, desperate to pull away but Loki held you in place longer. Just when you feared you might faint, he pulled away, turning you and shoving you to the forest floor.

You landed on your elbows, wincing as the bare skin grazed the dirt from your short sleeved shirt. Your chest heaved as you looked up at him, your desire already pooling in your panties.

Loki walked forward, “Strip. Now.” He ordered. “Everything.”

You hurried to obey, noticing that his already tight trousers were fitting more snugly as his own desire pushed against its confines. You had a button up short sleeve blouse on and considered undoing the buttons, but as soon as your fingers started fumbling with them, you heard an angry growl from Loki. Eyes flickering up to him as he crossed his arms impatiently, you changed tactics and struggled to pull it over your head.

“Too slow.” Loki hissed. He walked forward, kneeling over you, legs on either side of your waist. His hands grasped the front of your shirt, claws tearing it open and throwing the tattered remains to the side. You wanted to cry out in protest but the look in his eyes kept you quiet.

You lay underneath him, bra the only thing covering your chest and legs still covered in long jean trousers.

Loki smiled, staring down at your mostly exposed upper half, his hands reaching down to glide along the bare skin of your stomach, thumbs teasing the waistband of your trousers. “These will not do.” He murmured looking at the material. Moments later, he had helped you shimmy out of the jeans and tossed them to the side, landing atop your tattered shirt.

Loki knelt back down, only your bra and panties covering you. You sat up once more on your elbows, watching him warily. Loki reached behind your back, his claw slipping under the clasp of your bra and slicing through it easily before pulling it off and tearing it to the side.

“Do you have any idea how much that cost me?” You growled, finally finding your voice.

Loki chuckled, smirking down at you, “More than your life? You are, after all, still in my debt. Remember little lamb, I could still choose to kill you, I am being merciful.”

That quickly shut you up as Loki reached down to your now exposed breasts and began to kneed at them. Instinctively you tried to cover yourself but Loki’s wings batted your hands away, allowing him to continue unimpeded. He chuckled softly, “Don’t be shy, don’t cover up such a beautiful sight.” Leaning down, Loki pressed soft kisses to each breast in turn. His forked tongue darted out, sliding along your chest over the swell of each breast, one by one, wrapping around the first nipple then the second and working them into a pert bud. You keened softly at his ministrations, back arching as you grew wetter by the second.

“It has been some time since a lamb such as yourself has wandered into my forest, I had almost forgotten how lovely you could feel. But you…” Loki paused, marveling as he looked up at your face, “I intend to savor this treat.”

You blushed at the compliment.

“Now then.” Loki slipped his thumbs over the waistband of your panties, his sharp claws easily tearing through them. He returned to kissing your breasts, his tongue slowly sliding along your stomach, hands sliding along your sides before moving down to your womanhood. His hands gripped your thighs, pushing them apart as Loki inhaled deeply. “Mine.” He cooed softly, his tongue lapping along your folds, circling around your clit with both sides of its forked tip. You gasped softly, back arching and toes curling as he pushed his tongue deep into your core. It curled around sliding along your walls and stroking within you, a shiver ran down your spine as he found your sweet spot, stars dotting at your vision.

You gasped a soft oh, there, as Loki chuckled, the vibrations driving you crazy as you involuntarily thrust your hips up. Loki slowly pulled his tongue out, leaving you empty and wanting.

“Please.” You whispered weakly.

“Please what?” He teased.

“Do, do that again.”

“Do what? This?” He thrust two of his fingers in, curling them around and finding that spot once more.

You cried out softly, “Yes! That!”

Loki knelt over your, watching your face and listening to your cries of ecstasy. He continued pumping and thrusting his fingers, occasionally adding a come hither motion until you were a mess of cries and pleas, juices running freely down your legs. Loki’s fingers slid in and out, curling within and stretching you so achingly sweet until suddenly he pulled away.

Your eyes shot open, a scream of frustration leaving you as you once more sat up on your elbows. Your lower half trembled, weak with being so near only to be denied. “Loki!”

The demon chuckled, “I did say I would make you beg for me.” He waved his hand and green magic shimmered over him, his trousers vanishing.

Your eyes widened and you swallowed hard at the sight of his now exposed cock. It was long and large and very much ready, dripping precum as he stared down at you.

“Tell me, lamb, tell me exactly what you want.”

“I… I want you to fuck me.” You whispered meekly, staring at his manhood warily. It truly was massive and you were starting to realize just how new to this you were.

Loki chuckled at your apprehension, “What’s the matter, pet, be honest.”

“You’re huge.” You gulped, staring at him.

Loki glanced down and grinned widely, “Oh yes.” He winked at you.

“Will it fit?” You managed to stammer.

“Only one way to find out.” Loki laughed again, “But I’m sure you can do better than that.”

You thought of the aching in your legs, how close to release you were, the desire to be filled by his fingers but unable to doubt just how sweet his cock would feel buried in you. “I want you, all of you, I want your cock buried deep in me, giving me all the pleasure I can take.” You felt dirty saying it and you blushed at the lewd words.

“I’ll give you all the pleasure you can take, and more.” Loki growled, lining himself up at your entrance. He slid his cock over your clit, and you groaned, falling back off your elbows once more at your still sensitive button once more being stimulated. Laughing, Loki angled himself towards your lower lips, “Though I can’t promise that this won’t hurt a bit pet, you are unused to this.” He slowly began to press his member in, softly coaxing you to calm down, reminding you to breathe as you struggled to relax, taking his full girth into you.

Your hands reached up to grab his horns as Loki pressed kisses to your breasts, hands gently kneading at your thighs. He continued to press deep into you, stars dancing across your vision as you gasped at the fullness.

When he finally reached his desired depth, buried to the hilt, Loki stopped moving. His voice was strained as he held himself in position. “How are you pet?” He growled.

You nodded slowly, the full ache slowly fading to a desperate need for him to move. Loki scanned your face, smiling as he watched you struggle to find words. Very slowly, he leaned up and kissed you, the movement of his body causing his cock to shift within you. You gasped into the kiss and struggled with your grip on his horns to push him away. “Move.” You growled weakly.

Loki kissed you again before pulling away and sliding his hips out. He removed his cock almost completely before thrusting back into you, circling his hips and slamming into you again and again. You cried out with each thrust, his cock finding your sweet spot as his hand rubbed vigorously at your clit, the other gripping your shoulder and using it to steady himself. You tried to match his pace, hips rising and falling in time with his movements, but mostly you held onto his horns, struggling to keep any amount of your senses as you cried out his name repeatedly. His name left your lips like a prayer, driving his excitement to new heights. The coil in your stomach from earlier had returned, tightening once more and bringing you so close to release.

Suddenly you came, screaming loud enough to echo throughout the forest and for a moment you remembered the city and your friends not too far off, but you were too far gone to care. Loki continued thrusting into you, his movements sporadic and his body trembling before spilling his seed within you. His cock spasmed hard as he continued to thrust. Slowly his movements died down, his cock spent and twitching gently as your sexes pulsed around each other in an offbeat rhythm. You gasped out desperately for air, vision going completely dark.

You had no idea how much time had passed but your vision slowly returned and Loki knelt over you, wings cocooning you and shielding you from the sky as one hand stroked gently through your hair, the other resting on your stomach.

“Are you alright, little lamb?” He whispered, searching your face.

You nodded weakly, still trembling, “I, I think so.”

Loki smiled, laughing weakly, “I knew I would give you pleasure, but I hoped I hadn’t killed you.”

Your eyes widened, “Can people die from that?”

“I’m hardly human, love, it’s been some time since a mortal has wandered into here.” He smiled at you and you were surprised at the warmth it held.

You sat up shakily, Loki’s hand never leaving you as he helped you into a sitting position. “Well, uh, thanks for the concern.” It unnerved you more to see this demonic creature actually concerned about your wellbeing.

“I take it, you’ll be on your way then?” Loki asked.

“I was planning on it.” You trailed off, remembering your pile of tattered clothes and wondering how you’d explain this to your friends. Maybe you’d just say the creature had attacked you, which was mostly true, but you managed to get away. Or perhaps that you had tripped repeatedly and the trees had damaged your clothes. You looked back up at Loki curiously, it sounded like he had more to say. “Why, did you have something else in mind?”

Loki raised his hand and a shimmer of green fell over you, slowly revealing a see through green shift dress. Pulling you in for a soft kiss, you instinctively wrapped your fingers through his silky black hair. Loki slowly pulled away, “Remember me, won’t you?”

“How could I forget my first?” You smiled at him, “maybe I’ll see you again?”

Loki chuckled, “I do hope so.”

[woollycapybara]

Through a Cavern, Darkly

He was a young cub again, a small tabaxi child running for his life. His body ached from the effort, but his fear would not let him stop. Cuts and bruises also hurt, infections setting in. But the dark skinned elves had set his villiage ablaze, had slaughtered his tribe.

And they were chasing him through the jungle.

Obsidian Mask leapt over a fallen log and winced as he landed, his ankle threatining to give out. He heard a thudding sound into the log behind him, and there was an explosion of spliters right next to his head. An enchanted, and poisoned, crossbow dart and nearly driven a hole through his head.

He was on the move again, his lungs burning. His eyes watering. His fear threatening to consume him.

If the drow didn't get to him first.

********

Mask awoke in a cold sweat, tears stinging his eyes, and his stomach in knots. He had his nightmare again, a horrible retelling of the night a drow raid had destroyed his villiage and slaughtered his people. The dream always ended there for Mask, as he had short collapsed under the small amount of sleep poison that had knicked his cheak. The poison was so potent that even a grown dwarf would have a hard time shrugging off so little a dose.

Obsidian Mask used his magic to draw water from a hole near where he slept, and he bathed himself, throwing off the horrible dream along with the sweat. Today was a training day, and to Obsidian Mask, no day was better than a training day.

The tabaxi teen walked out of the alcove that was his room, his dark vision not needing much light to find his way around the twisting corridors.

He was going to meet his teacher, the powerful deep druid Fala. Fala was an orc, a rare one for her people's standards. She was tall and fierce, her face always contorted in a scowl, although to Mask she was one of the sweetest persons he had ever met. She was a druid who lived in the Underdark, and she was as powerful a spellcaster as she was a warrior. She could easily strike you down with a spell from the earth or a strike from her deadly axes.

Today was combat training, and so Mask had donned his chain shirt and his scimitar and belt of daggers, Eins, Zwei, and Drei. He was moving as silently as death, as Fala had taught him to move.

She taught Mask many things. Her druidic teaching were of the Circle of the Spore, a circle that saw death as just another stage of life. They would use life, death, and even undeath, for as long as the natural order was preserved, all was right with the world. Undead were simoly a tool to aid in the passing over to death, and undeath was never to be used to escape the natural end of one's life.

Fala had also taught Obsidian Mask how to be as stealthy as possible. Mask was confident that he could sneak up on almost anything that lived in the Underdark, minus a few inhabitants.

As Mask turned the bend, he caught the smell of something unusual. He dropped into a crouch, his blade silently drawn into his hands. Mask moved from shadow to shadow as silent as death as he approched the training hall. The smell was somewhat familiar, and Mask felt bile rise up in his throat. He turned the final corner, and it was all that he could do to keep from crying out.

There stood Fala, twin axes out casually by her side. The tall orc woman's scowl was on her face, and Mask knew her well enough to know when it was actually a scowl of anger.

There stood at least ten drow warriors, their weapons out, and grim expressions on their beautiful faces. Three drow already lay dead by Fala's feet.

"It ain't like you dogs to to face me head on. S'pose you figured stealth wouldn't work on me once these three rogues were taken down to quickly." Fala kicked the corpse with her boot.

Already one of the drow warriors were poised to attack, but another one, a female in robes, stepped forward. She spoke broken Orcish, and said "Great Fala. Forgive the intrusion to your lair. But we have business with you."

"The only business a dark elf has with me is to be a stain on my blade." she replied cooly.

Mask needed to move, but his body would not let him. These were kin to the dogs that had slaughtered his people! If it were not for Fala finding and nursing him back to health, they surely would have killed him too.

And now they were attacking Fala!

That brought cold rage to the tabaxi, and he used the shadows to cover his movement towards the collection of fighters.

Drow had the best darkvision of any race, but Fala had taught Mask how to bend the shadows to make him as invisible as the night. Mask was closer now, and in addition to the ten fighters, he saw another robed figure with a wand in hand standing next to the female. Mask jad seen wands like that before... They contained lightning bolts thst could destroy buildings and blow people apart. The memory of such wands being used on his people steeled his resolve.

Mask spoke a soft word to the earth, and up he went, moving along the wall as if he was walking on flat ground. He moved his way to the ceiling and froze. Two drow with those damned hand crossbows were up in the stalactite, and were aiming at Fala!

As silent and as quick as death, Mask moved in beside the drow. He saw that they were floating, while he was upside down, running on the cacern ceiling.

Mask was behind one in an instant, and Eins dug into his back while his arm holding his scimitar wrapped around the drow's throat, silencing the death cry.

Mask was not fast enough to stop the blood from dripping on the wizard's cheek.

The drow priestess saw the blood on the surprised wizard's face and screamed "Attack!"

Fala moved into a graceful dance of death, but Obsidian Mask did not have the time to watch his master fight. Already the other floating drow was aimimg their weapon at Mask. They fired, Mask taking cover behind a stalactite. It exploded under the magical might of the crossbow and dart, and the spray of earth caused Mask to lose his concentration on his spell. He moved quickly, grabbing the dead but still levitating drow and hoisting himself up. He smiled grimly as he used the drow as a floating walk place. Anither bolt stole his mirth, inches from finding it's mark in his hide.

He kicked off a stalactite, riding the floating body of the drow he killed past around a large stalactite. His tail grabbed a hold of the mound and he flung himself and his "mount" towards the other crossbowmen. The drow's eyes widened in disbelief, and he shot his final dart at Mask. He parried the bolt away from his flank and slammed home, driving himself and his blades into the belly of the drow, slamming him into a stalactite. It shuddered under the blow, and soon fell free, crashing into another drow down below.

Mask was down in an instant, rolling to absorb the impact of the fall and coming into a defensive crouch.

Ten drow lay dead at Fala's feet, and aside the wizard and priest, Obsidian Mask saw more pouring out from the tunnels.

"Get you that wizard, boy." Fala bade Mask.

"Yes, master." And he was off.

********

Xal'vin was astonished with the Orc. Never before had he seen someone fight and cast with such grace before, and beautiful death followed each of the druid's movements. She had even infected the corpses with spores, and zombified drow had truck down some of his best fighters.

Sin'dori was besides him casting her cleric spells, but Fala had brushed off most with sheer willpower.

Sin'dori had ordered Xal'vin not to cast, to save his magic, but it was obviously a foolish mistake now.

Xal turned to unleash a bolt of lightning, damn the priestess, but the command word got caught in his throat.

Mask was on his prey, dodging past the blows of the fighters and coming up right next to the wizard.

Xal'vin cast a spell, dimension door, and he was through it and off safely to the side before the crazed tabaxi got his blades in him.

The wizard turned to the room, his sight falling on Fala engaging more fighters, and leaving them dead in her wake. He shook his head and started his spell casting. Lloth damn Sin'dori, he was going to kill the Orc before any more of his force fell to the ugly creature!

Suddenly, a bright flash caught the wizard's attention. He turned and gapped in horror. A small mist was around the tabaxi, a tell tale sign of the misty step spell. And his hand had pumped forward, his own magic turning the dagger into a powerful bolt of lightning.

********

Mask did not retreive Eins from the wizard's corpse. He had no time. He was on the move again to aid his teacher. She faced off against the priestess in melee combat now, twin aces battling twin maces. More of the drow forces surrounded the battlefield as corpses, but the tabaxi knew there were still some skulking around.

He would end their lives before they could interfere with his master's battle.

********

Mask was cleaning his blade of drow blood, grim satisfaction that he had taken some measure of revenge for what was done to his people.

"You fought well." Fala said to him after she had cleared the battlefield of blood and dead bodies.

"I owe it all to you, master."

Fala chuckled to the tabaxi she raised. "Master no more. You have earned the right to call me Fala."

Obsidian Mask beamed with pride, but suddenly grew solemn. "My apprenticeship is over?"

"Yes, boy." Fala sat next to her student and embraced him. "You are almost a man now, not the kittle kitten I found near death."

Mask knew what was coming next. And a lump welled in his throat. "And now... My pilgrimage must begin." He stood up suddenly, cold anger flashing in his lavender eyes. "I don't want to leave, master! My place is here, with you!"

Fala stood and placed her strong hands on his shoulders. The tears welling in his eyes pained her, but she knew what had to be done. "You fear you will lose me to, just like your villiage."

Mask turned away, but Fala's calloused hand force him to look into her grey eyes. Her own fires burned within, as well as her own tears. She spoke evenly though.

"You need to explore the world, boy. A small hole in the earth with Fala the Deep Druid is not a fitting place for you to spend your days. We will see each other again, and when we do, you will be stronger, and I prouder of my student whom I so deeply love."

It was all Mask could handle. He broke out into a cry, and Fala held him in her arms. Despite his bobbing shoulders, the druid could feel the strength eminating from this one.

Oh the things he will do.

********

Mask was out by nightfall, his light sensitive eyes not yet ready to face the harsh rays. He was wearing Fala's last gift to him, fine mithral armor that made not a sound despite the chains and plates. It was a gift she had prepared, though how she had came about it, Mask could not begin to guess.

His water skins refreshed by a nearby pound, Obsidian Mask took off into the wide world of Toril in search of new friends, new enemies, and new adventures.