#and certain paths will have more consequences than others/different reactions from the companions | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thefallendivine · 3 years

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Ulvre IX: Survival

NOTE: This is the introductory short for the last Guardian. Like the other two, skip this post if you don’t want to be spoiled about this companion.

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Jakkan turns away from the rocky chamber, adopting a grim look on top of the smile that was used to project a sense comfort and reassurance. His steps are heavy as he makes his way out of the mountainside cavern. An alpine lake greets Jakkan as soon he is out, the sunlight reflected on each ripple of the clear water. But the Half-Orc does not notice the beauty that lies right in front of him, for he is seeing much further ahead.

In his trek down the mountain, Jakkan’s familiarity with every incline, every stone embedded on the craggy terrain works with him as his mind remains on the duty that is waiting to be fulfilled. His eyes are never on his feet every time he lifts them and all the time he settles his footing, but they are sure, even with the lake water spilling down the mountain face, making the descent slick and treacherous. Jakkan’s pace is quick, navigating the mountainside readily and with grace, just like the trickling water that serves as the source of the great river in the Negurra Taiga.

The sun has set by the time Jakkan makes it deep into the forest, his feet stopping as soon as he catches the scent that marks his destination. Looking around, several trees around are gashed deep by jagged claws, a few practically sunk halfway through the trunk. Fallen branches have been scattered, and tracks muddle the forest floor, lit by the silver moon now high up in the night sky.

A distinct howl causes Jakkan to shift on the spot. He looks towards its direction, even if beyond the trees in his immediate vicinity, he can see nothing but more mangled trunks. Jakkan grits his teeth, feeling the pain behind the eerie cry.

Wanderers may mistake the sound to belong to just any other wolf that calls the forest their home. But Jakkan knows better.

He moves, cutting through the forest with the speed refined by many years of keeping away from any form of non-bestial society. Every breath that comes out in a puff of cloud from his fanged-mouth brings him closer to what he is looking for. And when he finally finds it— finds him, Jakkan’s breathing stills. And with it, his heart starts to ache.

His master— the Wolf Beast, Omega of the Wolves and of the Lupus Beastmen— digging through the dirt like a lowly animal. His green eyes have lost its gracious ardor, now overcome with nothing but the irrational hunger of a savage predator. And when those eyes find Jakkan, he is not embraced with warmth, but with fear.

That is when Jakkan knew for certain that his master is gone.

The great white wolf lopes towards Jakkan with drool spittling from bared fangs. The Half-Orc rolls to the side, taking out the knife entrusted to him as the Druid of the Wolf, and he has never felt more laden wielding the singular blade.

As a prophet of a Beast, his responsibility has been mostly about keeping his master safe and hidden from modern society while locating and assuring his creations of his continued existence. But at the end of it all, prophets are also the ones who hold the responsibility of killing their masters when the time comes that they are corrupted by their own powers of Birth, to prevent them from becoming an aberration of nature. Jakkan is well-aware of all of his duties, said or unsaid, but he never thought he would be the one to end his master’s life; that he would live long enough for him to be saddled with such a burden.

Every passing moment his chest feels as if it is being drowned from the inside as he watches his master bound towards him once more. The Beast’s regression from someone wary of ruining an already fragmented world, to a modern iteration of a mindless beast— it cuts at Jakkan deeper than any blade could; rending worse than any claw could.

So he must end it, before the pain tears him apart. Before the legend of the “Terrible Wolf” is renewed in the minds of the unworldly, he must take his master’s life.

Jakkan lets the beast come to him, he lets it pin him down on the dirt, before thrusting his knife straight into the wolf’s heart.

There are no last words, not even a final breath. Just a snarl— a vicious, thankless growl.

Jakkan knows all too well that his master was not at all ungrateful. It is just the cruel circumstances and existences, which made everything as is, that makes Jakkan see all that is in front of him at the moment in a light of bitterness. It is as if the world itself is telling him that he failed.

He merely followed a path that was paved beforehand. Jakkan did not add to it, nor did he create a new one. He failed not in his duty as a Druid, but in taking the chance to make a difference.

Jakkan knows that, he does not need anyone telling him how he let it all come once more to this definite end. He understands it now, after thinking it over and over since the signs of the corruption showed. Numbed by the thought of it, and by the cold of the night, Jakkan makes his way back to the mountain.

The journey is long, and the sun once more begins to blaze through the violet horizon of dawn when Jakkan finally makes it back.

He plants a smile on his somber facade as the wolf cub crawls out of the recession on the cave wall

“There’s blood on you, Jakkan!” The cub exclaims, already able to speak through his mind. “Is it— is it over?”

Jakkan fights the urge to pet the cub, kneeling instead, offering the new Omega’s due reverence. “It is. You are Ulvre now, the Wolf Beast.”

Jakkan peeks at his new master, intending to gauge his reaction, but rather he finds the glow of the power of Birth through the gray fur on Ulvre’s head— the power already passed on. Jakkan immediately bows his head once more, jaw clenching in anger at the Incarnates who would defile the Laws of the world, and in consequence, the Beasts.

“But, Jakkan. I don’t know what to do.” Ulvre nudges his snout against Jakkan, but the Half-Orc withdraws from the usual show of amity, knowing that a boundary must now be set between the two of them. Ulvre retreats as well, showing respect for himself and for his prophet. With lingering uncertainty, he says, “Tell me what to do, Jakkan.”

Jakkan does not need more time to think, as he already knows the answer to the Beasts’ dilemma. They do not need prophets, nor do they need servants. What they need are saviors. Jakkan cannot save the current Ulvre, but he will find someone who can.

#main companions #guardians

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ketchup-monthly · 3 years

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Sanders Sides D&D 2

Ooh fresh take: Jan is virge’s patron and that’s why there’s beef

Also: Jan is some sort of fae related being

Jan: i need you to do something for me Virgil: no Janus: that's not how this works!! Virgil: watch me :P

Okay so I was thinking of Patton as a cleric cuz ooh healer however, Patton as a Druid makes me so happy

I want logan to have Rage

(Also that could tie nicely in an arc about Logan learning to accept feelings)

but barbarian logan is going to be a scholar again and is gonna be smort

bc hes logan. he cant be not smart

Oh I figured he’d be the bbeg that eventually joins the party (hurt/comfort baybee!)(Remus)

he was the bbeg but then joined the party as a bardbarian or just a bard

plus, actual bard who accidentally casts vicious mockery instead of bardic inspiration

Side note: please include a scene where Remus attempts to seduce the dragon

also with this second au, i can start them at like level 5 so people can multiclass

Pat as cleric/druid

gasp logan as artificer/barbarian

janus sorcerer/rogue

because basically everything but alchemist would work well with barbarian, but alchemist feels very Logan

bc mad scientist being actually mad

alchemist logan making an experimental potion and going "here im not sure what this does but im sure its fine! someone drink it"

Remus does it voluntarily, but Logan usually tries to get Roman to drink it

Virgil will occasionally drink it when he's on his last legs and is just like.....100% done with the party

remus as a wild magic path barbarian and just fucking teleporting or doing something equally ridiculous whenever he rages

Oh my god Remus with rage would be a force to be reckoned with

You gotta describe the first time he goes into a rage really dramatically

obviously virgil is trying to "escape" his patron, Janus (really just do whatever he says to not do out of spite)

Eldritch knight roman

Feywild warlock virgil

hey so in the second d&d au, should roman and remus be actual full siblings but like remus went darkside and like romans just trying to get back at him for putting a dark stain on the family name

hey hey hey what about warforged Logan? (essentially a robot)(so like "i dont feel anything" becoming real)

okay hear me out. elf roman and elf base simic hybrid remus. so like maybe the reason remus went darkside was experimentation? so like. hes elf but special

FALLEN AASIMAR VIRGIL

virgil just transforming in the middle of a combat scenario and like his eyes turn into black pits and flightless skeletal wings appear on his back and like everyone near him has to make a charisma check and like he deals extra necrotic damage

Pat is the one human stuck in a band of misfits

so with it, roman would be a full elf, and remus would be an elf that has tentacles bc octopus

So robot logan

i meant literally he doesnt feel anything

like he has all the emotions, but he doesnt physically feel the need to like eat or sleep or stuff like that

he just.....he pretend he don't have the feelings.....but he do.....he feel so much and he hides it all in his littol mechanical heart <3

plus......if he warforged, then like.....AC huge

he stands in front of friends.....he protecc...."no, i don't have feelings, i am physically incapable of affection" but he do!! he do! he take hits for them because he do!! he care so much

Bro he spouts all this and then he uses a reaction to dive in front of someone and everyone’s just like oh

LIKE ROMAN STILL BEING MEAN TO LO BC HE THINKS HE DOESNT HAVE FEELINGS BECAUSE HE DOESNT HAVE A HEART BUT HE DOES

hey hey everyone needs to grow

and logan standing up for himself and other people stepping in and saying no stop thats not right

plus if canon wont give me roman facing the consequences of his actions towards Logan......

but also Roman learning how to properly handle his own emotions and how he interacts with others

logan who doesn't view himself as anything more than a machine to be useful to others

the party giving logan love and affection until he slowly learns his own worth as a person

Roman and Logan not getting along (maybe Roman has a Lore reason to distrust Warforged, maybe not) and slowly learning to trust each other

when Logan is feeling real down or having some issue, Roman actually comes through to help him, showing how far both characters have come

Okay yes but also can we please give Roman more confidence than canon? Like I’m sooooo sick of low self esteem being played for laughs or just being really really sad

this boy is going on a mission and will slap his brother upside the head and tell him to shut tf up remus youre not a monster just come back home and he will do it alone if need be

OKAY SO WHAT IF HE ORIGINALLY WENT ON THE QUEST JUST TO STOP REMUS ONCE AND FOR ALL BC ROMAN THOUGHT HE WAS A MONSTER, BUT ALONG THE WAY, AND AFTER LOGAN, HE CAME TO REALIZE THAT NO, JUST BECAUSE REMUS (AND LOGAN) ARE DIFFERENT, THEY ARENT MONSTERS, JUST DIFFERENT

AND LIKE IN THE FINAL PUSH TO MAKE REMUS JOIN BACK WITH HIS BROTHER, ROMAN IS PROJECTING HIS OWN FEELINGS ONTO REMUS AND EVERYONE IS LIKE WOW BRO YOU GOOD THERE, BUT ITS A BIG MOMENT FOR LOGAN, ROMAN, AND REMUS

im unsure as to how, but it happened when he was an older teen/young adult. a simic scientist either picked him (read: kidnapped), or remus volunteered (potentially to escape court life, unaware what exactly the experiment was going to do to him physically

bc also, remus and roman are royalty

so like. how best to get at the nobes/royalty/rich famous people than by turning their kid into a monster

wait, wait, wait, because i'm lowkey a sucker for this trope, but i'm not sure if it fits Remus: the experiments left him with some fairly significant physical pain/uncontrolled magical reactions. through some combo of trying to deal with that and trying find a cure for his pain, he keeps like....absolutely wrecking random towns on accident but also deliberately wrecking certain places looking for either a) vengeance on the guy(s) responsible or b) someone who can make the pain stop

SO LIKE. WILD MAGIC BARBARIAN DOING WEIRD SHIT TO HIM WHENEVER HE RAGES

AND LOGAN COULD MAYBE HELP WITH THE PAIN AND SHIT

BC ALCHEMY

Yknow, for simplification purposes, we could say the True Bbeg just gave Remus lycanthropy and Remus hasn’t managed to control it yet

lycanthropy but simic shit?

Mr. I-Don't-Have-Feelings sees the poor dude in pain and also Roman in emotional pain from seeing his brother in pain and is absolutely like "i must resolve this like right now, immediately" because he definitely doesn't hate seeing his friend suffering, or his friend's brother whom he's just met

he definitely doesn't relate at all to the idea of someone else shaping your body and absolutely does not sympathize with Remus's plight

i was thinking the grappling thing and either manta glide or the ability to breathe underwater for the simic stuff, but like he doesnt have control over the tentacles yet?

Manta glide seems like we could have fun battle scenes

he just jumps off a cliff to avoid mushy talk/dealing with his actions/roman

Roman: Remus just because you're a monster and though i wish i was an only child-- Remus, jumping off a cliff: byyeeeeee Patton: Roman, look what you did! Virgil: dammit jan what did you do? Janus: why do you think i had anything to do with that? im a fae, not a genie Logan, thinking: what an asshole. i wish i could do that

oh my god Logan always being tired mentally bc he cant sleep

Oh my gosh I love that. So Remus got kidnapped super young, (from royal family) they never found him, as a result Roman had to grow up super fast (side effect: lowkey inconsiderate and forgets to ask for others input). Meanwhile, Remus was experimented on by True Bbeg and came out with some trauma and super cool additives

yep! chronic pain and ptsd and all sorts of other shit!

so like, simic hybrids are usually created when they're adults. but what if the true bbeg decided to go younger to see what would happen, and thats why remus has chronic pain and stuff

he was still growing when his genes were spliced, so hes dealing with growth plates shifting and his body maturing and puberty and body changes and stuff

Pat is going to have a lighthearted story. Im saying that now. Hes the one without all the baggage

Sure, but his parents have to lowkey be the really kind people who are surprisingly always down for violence

everyone: multiple crises Pat: y'all need help Pat: love and affection in spades for his little band of misfits

Patton (which I think would be pretty simple, honestly he might just see danger and jump in and suddenly everyone in the party has Feelings)

Logan

Mhm. So how did he grow up? Was he just poof created? Wait

What if he was created by the king?

To make up for remuss disappearance

wait, wait....angst......he was created to fight (hence the barbarian stuff) but alchemy is his real passion

wait so like. a second son???

hes there to replace remus?

Yea! (But like in a sympathetic grief way) But that causes a bit of a complex in Roman and ergo Roman and Logan have a bit of a beef

okay so like. hes there to be a companion for roman, and like take remus' place, even though hes not actually in line for the throne?

LOGAN AS A KNIGHT

and just......the conflict of being created for a specific purpose (plus being, you know, robot and technically incapable of deviated from said purpose) vs the fact that he actually does have independent consciousness and like....wants to live life for himself

the parents made Logan a barbarian in hopes that him and Roman would be safe

okay. so logan was created by the king with the sole purpose to take remus' place as romans brother/companion, and to be his like guard? protector? and fight, but logan wants to be an alchemist and study shit

wait, wait, wait.....thinks about Asimov's Laws

he.....his first operative is protect (specifically protect Roman)

oh man. so hes literally just a shield

his second level operative is just like.....care for Roman's emotional well-being, but he doesn't really know emotions because he was kinda just spawned and nobody told him how

and he just....kind of....lets Roman treat him like garbage and take all his grief out on him because he's staunchly in denial of both having feelings or knowing how they work

Anyway Yea so Logan created by royal family in place of Remus which created angst between the two “brothers” and identity issues in Logan. Their arcs are learning how to healthily process emotions plus Roman apology and Logan commits to alchemy

So big question: why did virge make a deal?

Tricked

he gave janus his name

and instead of janus like killing him or whatever the fae do to people who break the rules of dealing with the fae, jan was like. hey. i'll give you magic, but do what i say

Janus is lawful neutral, but leans towards being selfish

hes self serving, but he has a strong set of morals and rules he follows

Tho I want to Virgil to also not be pushover so let’s say loophole happened and Jan has to stay with virge (hence why Jan is a part of the party)

okay so a couple of the rules are dont give a fae your true name and don't try to figure out their true name

what if virgil accidentally gave up part of his true name, and got stuck in the deal, but then figured out janus' true name

so in the same vein that janus had control over virgil, virgil now has more control over janus

he still gets his magic from janus, so he cant break free completely, but virgil has more freedom and can occasionally tell janus what to do or when to shove it

there should a running gag where virge can explain how he learned Jan’s true name but Jan can make something loudly censor him every time

(he learned his name bc once he heard janus practicing his evil genius voice and talking to himself in the mirror and janus said his true name)

so maybe janus sent virgil on the quest to protect a town or stop something related to remus, but virgil dragged him along

he might just be trying to protect a town thats close to a ley line, or something fae-related, and they just happen upon the whole thing

janus is selfish. but lawful vs chaotic is where he comes through, in morals vs doing whatever. janus has a strong set of loyalties to the fae, and to himself

so like....Remus is just too close to Jan's stuff and he wants to take him down

Virgil is just like....exhausted and said "fine, but if i gotta do this, you're coming, too"

or at least figure out a way to protect his place, even if it doesnt mean fully taking out remus. just moving him would work for jan

Janus: virgilllllllllll hes going to mess up my magic storage locker Virgil: Jan, its empty Janus: but its mine

Yea. Remus attacks a city away from the fae: Jan: Yknow I’m gonna sit this one out Virge: oh no you don’t, get up

Janus vs Janice

so his real name is Janus, but Virgil calls him Janice

Virgil: This is Janice Janice: with a “U-S” Virgil: mhm, sure Jan

I'm a big fan of just like any of the old theory name being various aliases for Jan

Damien, Dante, Ethan, Declan, etc, etc

#ss d&d 2

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the-passenger-if · 5 years

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so Malin had that interesting post on game design and some of the rules he created for Fallen Hero specifically, and tbh, I think FH has become a model for how others are creating their own from what I've seen. I was curious if you did something similar when you were planning out Passenger, and/or if there was anything different that you've been focusing on or trying to emphasize (i never give you easy questions)

I read it; Malin is, once again, the person I want to be when I grow up.

I think FH has become a model for how others are creating their own from what I’ve seen.

Hopefully; Fallen Hero is one of the best examples of interactive fiction I’ve read (it ticks all the right boxes for me and by now I think it’s pretty obvious it’s been a huge inspiration for my own work).

(i never give you easy questions)

(pictured: my last 2 brain cells trying to work together)

I will take the atheist youtuber approach and I’ll revise Malin’s comment step by step to see what resonates with me and what doesn’t.

Malin: “My goal was to write interactive fiction, not a game.”

100% this. Reading the forums I realized I was a lot more into games that told me a story and had rich characters and interactions than, I don’t know, about the I shoot the gun *roll dice* It doesn’t work. Baddie shoots gun *roll dice* It leaves a cool scar on MC’s arm. I have nothing against that type of games, neither against micromanaging, it’s just there’s so many times I can go feed the goats before my brain goes away and comes back once every goat has died of starvation. I get bored, that’s what I’m saying.

M: “Trust. This was the first rule. I needed to build trust in the reader, and make them realize that there would be no game over in this book, no way to fail so badly you couldn’t get back from it.”

This too. I didn’t want to put game overs around every corner. Don’t get me wrong, it works. One of my fave WIPs is Monsters (TW for everything basically) and I died like five times before getting it right, but Monsters isn’t just about dying; I like the NPCs, I like the MCs, it’s a cool slash horror game and I think it makes more sense to die in that game than it does to do it in mine. They say eliminating the possibility of dying kills the suspense and encourages players to play stupidly; TP is a game about an eldritch abomination and their gang of freaks, not rocket science: If players are having fun I did my job.

M: “The only reason you would make a choice should be that it felt right for your character, and you wanted to see what happened.”

I disagree with this one; I really like the oppose pairs COG encourages so much, and after reading dozens of games I found that the author that makes it work best is Devon (Samurai of Hyuga saga). I loved that the most important use of the oppose pairs was to choose your ronin’s personality traits (Devon tends to get a little carried away with how every single choice must be affected by them, but that’s because he’s a more gamey author, while I’m more interested in the role-playing aspect). That’s why there’s no way to fuck up too much in my game if you choose the “wrong” option (read: the option that doesn’t align with your traits). You are still supposed to think about your Newman and what answer feels the less OOC. Some people like to play a character that has some agency of their own (raises hand), other people are control freaks (jk I love you all xD) which bring us to the next point;

M: “Immersion. The second rule, and the thing that influenced my stats and flags. They should be there to help immersion, to enable me to to callbacks to earlier events, and to tailor text to the reader. While there’s an unusually fixed protagonist in Fallen Hero, I wanted variability in how they were presented. While things like cautious/daring influences success in certain fights, that’s actually a secondary function. Instead of trying to artificially have a stat chance with every choice to make it ‘matter’, I embraced the thought that the changing text itself did matter enough.”

All of this. There’s no way I can say it better. Also ties in with MCs having different thoughts and reactions on what’s going on around them. Flavor text rules.

M: “Consequence. That being said, I wanted there to be tension and nervousness, which meant that there needed to be consequence. This was tricky, especially over three books where a lot of the consequences won’t come until later in the series.”

The consequences in my book are a lot quicker to come and bite you in the ass than in Malin’s book (of fucking course); that’s why there are flags just about everywhere and some people will be lacking one or two companions from CH6 onwards.

M: “No lock-in.” “There’s no point in which a RO becomes locked in for good, and at the same time you don’t get locked out if you didn’t start a romance at a certain point…”

Since I have less time to show you things, I had to pick and choose what’s more important for the story I’m trying to tell. For example, what’s more important: keeping the romance paths open or having more fluffy flavor text with your chosen RO. Guess which one I chose (took me 2 solid seconds to make that call I’m telling you)

As I said before, don’t try to create your own angsty path: I FEED on angst, I won’t disappoint you. Smooch that RO, hug Livvy, everything will be taken away by me raining fire on Newman and co anyways.

M: “Secrecy. One way I picked to help me heighten tension was to keep secrets from the reader,”

Not a big fan of this one if I’m being honest. I’m not mad about it or even vocal (this is the first time I say anything) I just could do without it. Fallen Hero is great and I love it, it’s just sort of weird at times when Sidestep goes like “Did they know about the blue button and the diet coke, did they?” And I’m like, “Bitch I sure hope they do because I have no idea what you’re talking about”. FH is my second favorite game (my #1 if I don’t count WIPs) but yeah, that. Maybe if all secrets are revealed by the end of book 2, and book 3 is about Sidestep (and the player) reacting to them, maybe I won’t find it so distracting.

The Passenger has its fair share of secrets (it has to) but most of them aren’t even secrets (what is Newman? where do they come from? what about the Old Ones?) that’s just how cosmic horror works. Things just are, there’s no explanation; the magic trick is always a lot less impressive once you know how it works, and some things are better left unsaid. Whatever your mind comes up with will be one hundred times worse than any explanation I might give you.

M: “Community.” “by having people share and gossip and theorize, the story became so much greater than their single paths.”

No shit I love this. And not only when someone pushes too far and breaks their own heart by being curious *cough*shokujin*cough* but also when people come up with their own headcanons, fanfics, fan comics. Reading my babies’ words through someone else’s creation blows my mind, I’m not kidding. It’s almost dissociative. Also, I write fanfiction, I read it, I’ve made fan comics and art and I know the amount of work and love that you guys pour into it and it’s always super flattering.

All in all, I guess our approaches were pretty similar. I could talk about this for days, that’s why I chose to keep it as close to Malin’s comment as I could.

#ask #owtide #rambling #GIF

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riverteatime · 5 years

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A burning soul (MC, Snatcher, Vanessa fic)

“Warning : Mention of blood, pain, torture, violence, hurting feelings of love, painful past, a very angry noodle and an ice bi*ch. I warned you !

“Snowing ?! At this state of year ?! But we are not even in winter !” You thought at watching the news in your TV

It’s the evening and like every days you have regain your spaceship after passing a day on the planet. It’s the autumn so you are not very surprised that temperature are more and more colder. But at the point of snowing…Yes you are very happy to see the snow but the air of this part of the planet is much hoter than in the Arctic.

“Perhaps it is the consequence of climate change. I mean that maybe that temperature raise in this planet too. I hope that this planet is not going to change as a big desert” You say sarcastically to yourself. But that thought brings back painful memories about your past. You shake your head to not think about that and you switch off your TV to sleep on your bed.

—————————————————————

Meanwhile in a certain ice castle…

“WHAT? SHE AGAIN PASS THE DAY WITH MY PRINCE?” Yells a feminine voice in the shadow

Even if the ice statues are headless, they don’t like how their queen scream. Even if they can’t see her head they can feel her expression. The expression of surprise, anger, rage and disgust. And they know what is the cause. This human-alien who land on their planet some months ago had build a very strong relationship with what would have become their king if this accident did not arrive. Now that this person is very close to her prince, the queen is so jalous. She hate her, she want to murder her.

“But maybe if we make her disappear, MY prince will be mine.” She says thinking “Headless statues, I know your power of destruction is explosive like a dynamite. But pay attention to my words! It’s clear that you are not lights but we are talking of queens and even you can think about this. So prepared of the chance of your life, be prepared sensational news !!! A shining new path open in front of us…

“…And what we have to do…?” Asks one of the statues

“Just don’t cut your queen. I know it sound morbid but you’ll be rewarded and become my minions! Do what I tell ! BE PREPARED !!!”

“S-sorry to cut your speech majesty, b-but they love each oth-” Starts an headless statue. But with a movement the icy-queen destroyed him.

“Fool! I know that” Says the queen with a disgusting voice “But she is not immortal like us. My statue, today is the day that start our freedom ! Stick with me and you’ll never going to be banish again of this kingdom!” And with this fact the headlesses statues jump of happiness and say “Long life the queen!” in harmony.

“But at one condition. Capture this human alive, BUT NOT DEAD !!! I deserve her a nice treatment for her. She will remember my face even in the death. No one take the prince of the queen Vanessa” Says the icy-queen before laughing cruelly.

——————————————–

You wake up earlier today. You thought that it would be nice to see Subcon Forest covered up by the snow. So you dress up warmly because you don’t want to catch a cold like the other day. And you set you teleport destination to Subcon Forest.

Arrived at Subcon Forest you feel something different in the atmosphere. Subcon is always a quiet place good for the rest of the dead people that are buried in all the forest. But it is too quiet. Normally some minions are walking through the forest and spirits are flying. But you see none of them. And the snow start to be a snowstorm. You decide to go in the house of Snatcher to protect yourself.

In front of the house you knock at the hardwood which serves as a wall.

“Snatcher?” You ask, waiting for an answer. “And you are not there. Geez, what’s happen here?” You ask yourself while you enter the house. Your friend is not there and his minions are not guarding the forest. “Maybe he is at the village or with Moon.” You think.

So you go outside. The snowstorm calmed down but you cannot see very well because of the cold. You walk in direction of the village despite of the road that is cover by the snow.

But before you can arrive at the village you see something at your right… or seemed to have seen something. Indeed with the snow that covered the ground and trees, it’s difficult to recognize something. But you are certain that you have seen a shadow.

“Snatcher? Is that you?” You ask immediatly. But no one answer.

“Come on! I know it’s you! And it’s not Halloween so you have not reason to scare me!”

No answer

“Don’t be stupid with me! I’m here since five months and I know you!”

No answer. Just silence and the wind.

“Snatcher?” You say, starting to shaking. You start to walk on the direction of where you seem to have seen your friend. But you see what it is and it’s not your friend. Instead of, you see something else. Two humanoid creature are in front of you but they seem to not have seen you. Your reaction is to hind behind a tree and to watch what they do. Wait?…. Is that a Subconite laying on the ground ?

“What we have to do with this living soul?” Asks one of the humanoid to the other

“Bring him back to the queen and find others insurgents. And if you see the human catch her” Says the other

The humanoids monsters go on opposite direction. When you certain that they are far enough, you get out of our hiding place. What was these things? And why one of them as a Subconite. Suddenly you have a revelation. Perhaps they are ennemies of the Subcon Forest and they bring a Subconite for torturing him !!! You yell but you think that if they hear you they can make the same thing to you. You have to find Snatcher and quickly. But you can’t let this poor Subconite with us. And don’t know where THE HELL is Snatcher.

So you make the choice to follow the humanoid who have the unconsious minion. You follow him, paying attention that you don’t make ANY noise. You hide sometimes behind the trees when the humanoid turns around. Fortunaly, you were the one the most quiet in your colony when you hunted for surviving in your former planet.

After following the humanoid thing for what you seem an hour, you arrived at a big old mansion covered by ice. Here, the snow is more heavier, like a snowstorm. But you keep your goal. When the forest end to an cleairing you think that is safest to wait behind a tree. The humanoid go inside the house and you follow him.

—————————————

You slowly open the door. You watch if they have no danger and you go inside. You walk carefully in the woody-corridor. Painting are hanging on the wall and a elegant red carpet is on the floor. The one who live here have a wonderful taste for luxury objects. You watch from the opening doors if there have the minion.

Suddenly you hear some noise at the first floor. You go upstrairs, walking slowly and carefully and hid at one of room. It is a nice bedroom with a big bed and others furnitures that can make think of a room for a woman. A diary is on one of the tables. You open it at the middle and start to read.

“Why? What have done wrong? In his letter he talks about her. A ‘tutor’

He say he loves me. But SHE see him. I get letters and SHE get his time

He is MINE. Once his studies are finished I will have him back”

“What the hell?” You ask to yourself

The other pages talk about a “princess” that wait for his prince. But at what it is write you think that the princess is like possessive with her prince. You think instantly at a bad fairy tale.

You hear again some noises but now closer. You watch where you can hide. A wardrobe is your choice and fortunally it is empty so you can go inside. Two humanoids enter the room. They are like earlier but you can see a detail that you don’t pay attention before. They are both headless. One of them try to immobilize a Subconite. And you cannot let the minion fight two headless things.

So you jump of your hidding spot. Earlier you saw two spears hanging on the wall. Even if it is a decoration you grab one of them. And even if you haven’t fight for years with a spear you try to hurt the headless. Key word is try. Indeed, they are like stone statues or ice… Ice headless statues. Even you don’t hurt them you succeed of to draw the attention and the Subconite is now free.

“FLEE!” You yell at him. With reluctance the minion ran away.

You fight with your spear and you paying attention to the door of the other room which is open. An idea come to your mind. With your spear you protect yourself and at the ideal moment you give at one of the headless a violent kick. The headless fall with his companion behind him and you shut the door. You move the wardrobe in front of the door. You succeed of trapping the headless on another room.

“Headless! It’s more brainless!” You tell

“Indeed. I’m agree with you” Says a feminine voice behind you.

“Oh NO!” You think. You turn around to be face to a shadow. “Oh peck” You say.

“I am very surprise that you come here without hurting you! But you cannot stay here safe, MC” Says the shadow

“What the f-… You know my name?” You ask holding your spear and ready to fight.

“I know you. And you know me.” And before you can say no she tells “I’m HER”.

“HER? … Wait you are the rival of Snatcher it’s right” You ask. But behind you the headless are breaking the door. You are surround by enemies now.

“Yes and no. I’m his … Killer? It is like that you call this type of person?” You think at something. She as a crown in her head. She is the “princess” of the book? Right?

“You are a princess?” You ask, keeping her in front of you.

“I was a princess. Your shadow friend was my prince” At this though you gasp “We were happy before he let me here for his studies. I waited him for years. For so long years-” She grabs a glass and and throw it at you. You protect yourself but you feel cold on your hands. Your spear start to be heavier and turn to a ice spear. You drop it. Now you are in front of a wall and you are ready for fleeing.

“When he comes back I was so happy… But. I saw him. He was with a girl. He was holding HER hands. I ran away.” She walks at your direction. “When he go to my castle he try to convince me but I ordered my guard to bring him to the jail” She is now in front of you. You shake like a leaf for the fear and for the cold. Indeed, even if you have warm clothes, you are cold.

Suddenly she grabs you to the neck, strangle you with so much power. “You are a beautiful lady. Perhaps on another life we will be friends but. I . AM . THE . ONLY . QUEEN . HERE .”She yells at you. You try to breathe but you can’t.

Suddenly a big blue fireball breaks the window, making melt one of the living statue. Surprised, the queen throws you. Strings that come to the door fly to the other statue, wrap the headless like a cocoon. The headless break up with a detonation noise.

You are lying on the floor and try to stand up. Two hand that you know grab you and help you to stand up. You raise your head to be face to Moonjumper.

“Moon…” You say with no voice. The corpse ran away in the house with you in one off his arm. “What you do?” You ask now with your voice.

“I keeping you safe” He says quietly.

But you don’t think the same way. You succeed of being free. You run to the bedroom, grabing the other spear that is laying on the floor. You think at one thing : help Snatcher with this demon. Moonjumper try to grab you but he lost track of you.

When you enter the room you look at ruins. The bedroom is totally destroyed. The bed is now laying on the floor with the ice shards of the headless statues. Wood furnitures are now burn and the two shadows are looking to the other like deadly carnivorous animals.

“My prince~~~!” Says Vanessa

“Don’t approach me !!!” Says Snatcher, hissing like a dangerous snake

But the two are tired and you can fell it. Vanessa run in the direction of Snatcher with her clawed hands. You know that he cannot dodge this. So you go in front of him making a shield with your body.

“MC !!!” He yells but too late

You fall on your knees. You let your spear fall. You touch your stomach. A warm red liquid sink of your clothes. Blood, she have hurt you.

Snatcher looks at you, then look at Vanessa “What did you do?” He asks to her “You. Have. Hurting. My. Wife” he says before jump on her, making everything to kill her.

“My prince! Stop this! I have to kill her for you!” She yells at him trying to breack free. And she succeed. She ran to one of the wall. “I am your wife! Your queen! But if you don’t hear me so die for a second time!” She yells at him

“NO!” You scream. And with a invisible power you stand up. Your spear that was ice is now make of fire. Like a zombie you walk to the dead queen. “NO ONE KILL MY HUSBAND” You say with a shaking voice. You turn to yourself, hurting her so badly. You kicking her with your spear, backing her to the bathroom. When she is in front of the door, Snatcher opens it and you kick her to the room. Then Snatcher closes it more violently than you with the headless. He locks the door with some incantation. When the fight is done Snatcher breath heavenly.

“God!” He whisper. “What a day.”

But your invisible power that keep you stand up leave your body and you fall again on your knees.

“What?! MC STAY WITH ME!!!” He yells and grabing you in his arm. You touch again your bloody stomach and now you can feel the pain. Moonjumper who was in some part of the manor finds you and your friend.

Then you don’t remember the rest of the day. You fall unconscious but your eyes are opening. You watch with no reaction your friend carry you to the house.

————————————-

You slowly return to the consciousness. You are laying on a cushion. And you can see Snatcher reading a book.

“Snatcher…” You slowly whisper

Like an electro-shock Snatcher jump of his chair and float to you very quickly.

“MC? MC YOU CAN SEE ME?” He asks very conscerned by you. He grabs you but your stomach is hurting.

“Ouch! You silly! I can see you!” You yell at him.

“Oh excuse me! You were unconcious before. Don’t make such things again.” He tells to you

“Such things like what?” You ask slowly trying to sit on your cushion.

“Such things like become a super fighter and be a shield-body with no warning.” He says frowing at you.

“What your are saying?” Then you remember what you done earlier. The Subconite kidnapping, the headless, Vanessa and the fight, it was not a dream.

“I am very impressed by you of your surviving but the next time don’t go to the danger” He says.

“But it was for keeping you safe…” You start.

“ENOUGH” He yells.

“But…” You try.

“DON’T” He lays you on his body.

“But…” You whisper.

“TALK” He grabs his book to continue his reading

“Umf…” You whisper grabing his fluff

On Snatcher’s book it is writing :

“Fire souls

A very rare soul that can survive of the spell of the ice soul. A strong fire soul can destroy an ice soul with one shot. A very rare portion of the people who have a fire soul can become strong fighters near the death. But, causing of the immense power that is require for this, the people who have become the fighter become unconscious after this fact. It is primordial of a fire soul people to regain strengh after such a fight.”

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inmyownmhis · 6 years

Text

The Morning After - Part 3 - With @HowBoutDemWings & @BuyMyBlood

Lassiter:

<It was pretty impressive the way Blondie, yeah the name had stuck regardless of knowing what she was actually called, had pegged Jagger. She did a damned fine job assuaging his paranoia of being soiled, better than I had been able to manage outside. But then the kick to the chops came when she flashed wrist. Fucking hell. Even I knew he’d damn near roll ass over head to get away from the offer.

The gem of the entire situation came when my new fanged buddy got to growling and squeezed his fists so tight I swear I heard the small joints of his hands cry for mercy under the pressure. Instantly I knew I had a way to get the guy to feed. He wasn’t going to like it but I didn’t care, I disliked the way his days were numbered.

Then there was Rhancid. That assface needed his clock cleared and soon. It went against the rules for me to end another’s life especially in the name of revenge. I was not judge nor jury and only life saving could come from my hands. No matter how much the piece of shit deserved to be pushing daisies...unless Devina had found her way inside his body that was my single loophole, unfortunately I didn’t notice her presence when he dumped Blondie in the alley. He was just a straight up piece of trash needing to be taken out.

I watched the pair while continuing to remain silent and when Jagger showed Blondie into another room, I began to pace around the living room. The question I needed to find the answer to was my angle of approach. Which one would be the best to gain the results I wanted.

Somewhere behind me I heard the sound of water running, followed by the sound of a door softly closing. I knew he had returned to the room and I was sure the lack of me running my mouth as usual had begun to unnerve him. Good. He could stand to feel a little twitchy...that would ensure he’d be listening when I finally did impart my eternal wisdom upon him.

Turning to face Jagger as he lingered in near the end of the hall, my eyes met him before glancing toward the very spot Blondie had been parked in, indicating he take a seat. Like a good boy, he did which in turn earned him less awkward silence than I had intended to serve up.>

That mother fucker needs to get dead. I already know that’s what you’re thinking. But I also know Blondie <my arm lifted to point down the hall, emphasizing unnecessarily> won’t allow that. Her mind is made up, as revenge is hers and hers alone. So you best be derailing that thought train and start engineering the reason you refused her vein, because in case you weren’t familiar with the emotions that crossed her face I can do you a solid and spell them out.

Insult. Rejection. Confusion. Hurt. <I ticked off each one on a finger before lifting my double pierced brow at Jagger, silently daring him to deny what I had said, he was smart enough to keep his trap shut, likely assuming I had more to say, which I did, I was just getting started.>

Where do you get off claiming such a weak-ass excuse as being unworthy? You know what I think? You’re afraid. I just haven’t figured out what the fuck you have to be afraid of unless it’s as simple as life itself. Why don’t you start by enlightening me before she rejoins us so I can damage control better because it’s clear when left to your own devices the two of you aren’t capable of forward motion.

Jagger

-It was a relief when Ambellina took me up on the offer for the bath, even though she couldn’t hide the dejection that had come with my refusal of her vein. I was stricken with so much, too much to process the tornado that had materialized on my insides. My hand went to my throat to stroke over my mother’s cross; it felt like an age since it had been returned and we hadn’t even turned over an hour.

My life had been steady, predictable and it worked with my even keel, but in a manner of weeks it had been flipped on its head and I was left trying to make sense of the curve balls being pitched my way in quick succession.

After pawing through my closet, I grabbed a shirt Ambellina would surely swim in when I felt a silent tug in a different direction. Summoning my balls, I took a short trip down the hall to a small guest room and turned the knob tentatively. It was surreal how after two decades I could still scent her in the room, it nearly overwhelmed me to the point of being woozy. I steeled myself against the tidal wave of emotions that could consume me if I wasn’t cautious. Without any procrastination I hit the closet, retrieving a robe that didn’t come with the memories some other articles of clothing would. I hit the bureau next, grabbing a few of my mother’s shirts and some lounge pants. Females liked options, right?

I quickly left and then dropped off the finds back in the master bedroom where I told Ambellina they’d be, closing the door to the room behind me to give her absolute privacy. First female that had ever been in my bedroom, and surely the last.

With a hefty sigh I headed back to the living room, sure as shit Lassiter wasn’t going to be playing harp and welcoming me back with his golden-boy smile.

I was right. His body language had changed now that we were without our female companion and without putting up any kind of internal fight, I took his every cue. First sitting, then listening as air sucked out of my lungs and my throat closed.

He sure as hell knew I wanted that Rhancid dead, but he got the part about me wanting to do the deed wrong, I just wanted to… protect her. There was no time to share that nugget of detail before he was onto my cowardice and the buffet of ways I had offended Ambellina.

The atrophy of my lungs continued while Lassiter spared no expense in calling out my every fault. I was keenly aware of his disappointment and disgust with me, good thing I had long ago learned to deal with disappointing the male species, as early as I could register my father’s detest, in fact. Somewhere inside of me, I clutched the memory of those fleeting moments where I felt the angel’s approval before they could be completely replaced with his new found perspective.

My lip flared without permission, a result of emotion I tried to hold at bay. Fuck me. This was a spectacular finale to my bent and broken life. I looked down; at my hands, at the threading on the edge of the couch, at the floor, anywhere but his eyes, while I croaked out what I could.-

My father was... Rhancid. Ambellina is… every female he ever hurt, used, stole from… my mother. -shaking my head, swallowing with a dry throat- He was without conscious or remorse and never atoned for his crimes.

-finally finding the will to lift my eyes back to Lassiter’s-

Every time I’ve taken the vein, every time, my soul suffered the rightful consequence of misery. -desperation has me pleading with a forward lean of my body- Males like Rhancid...like Rhuin have no right to breathe the air of that female -pointing towards the bathroom- or any other, let alone help themselves to more.

And what if… what if there’s just some dormancy lying in wait in my veins, a monster waiting to wake at the taste of some blood?

Lassiter:

<I watched as Jagger did everything he could to avoid looking me in the eye while I verbally tore a strip off him, internally I was glad to see he was capable of showing his discomfort at my words. It meant I was making some headway with him, I wasn’t sure just yet how far I had gotten under his skin. Was I merely a superficial wound he could ignore or had I infected him deeply enough to want to do something about it?

Normally people had one of two reactions to being called out on their cowardice, acceptance and denial. I stood motionless save for the rise and fall of my chest once I was done talking and waited to see which path Jagger was going to choose. Then I would know how much work I’d still have to do before Blondie was done cleaning up.

The words that barely passed over Jagger’s lips seemed to forge their own path. Not quite denial but also not complete acceptance. He was explaining, sharing, opening himself up without attempting to cover the ugly parts. I was once again surprised by him and found myself moving closer, dropping my ass down on the coffee table in front of him while watching the emotions as they filtered across his face. It seemed I had gotten deep enough without causing irreversible damage.

I already knew there was some darkness he had been dealing with when I had accidentally gotten a peek at his mind while outside but it paled in comparison to hearing him confess it aloud. When his eyes lifted to mine and he spoke of his feeding issues and then the heart wrenching fear of having the same monster his father was lying in wait inside, my hands reached out to cover his in an attempt to offer any kind of support he might be willing to accept.

Squeezing tightly and sending him a gentle healing warmth that would work to ease the emotional wounds he had exposed to me, my voice was steady and sure as I spoke.> You are not him, Jagger. The very fact that you fear following in his footsteps is proof that you aren’t…and won’t ever be like him. There is only good intentions inside you. I can see it and feel it. I know it.

Had you some kind of monster waiting to seize an opportunity to take hold of your good nature, it wouldn’t have rejected Blondie. A monster is selfish and takes without consideration or consequence. It thinks of nothing more than taking what it wants. Where as you...You couldn’t get away from her fast enough. I get it now. Your fear isn’t out of the blood exactly, it’s of who you don’t want to become. I’m sorry I accused you of being something you aren’t.

Even angels get it wrong sometimes. What I know for certain is that female, in your room, is undeniably strong. Perhaps not of brute strength but of disposition and emotions. If she survived a brutal attack, she can handle sharing her vein with you and she most definitely would have no problem telling you when you’ve had more than your share so you needn’t worry there.

I think she needs to feed you as much as she needed your vein, Jagger. Trust me on this, hers is not a life like your mother’s but it is also not a life of a standard female vampire either...she’s not of the higher class, has never attended a Glymera ball and she has her own family issues buried deep that she hides away the way you have been.

Jagger:

-I had always flinched at the touch of others, save for my mother and now… Lassiter. I didn’t know if it was that angel mojo and the warmth that seeped under my skin when his hands covered mine, but it definitely was a trip to not want to tuck tail and bolt out of the joint. He’d opened me right up, flattening the spine of my book to get at the pages in the middle, right to the heart of things after skipping the intro.

Holy fuck, this day was strange. I didn’t feel like myself, but I was actually in my rawest state, baring a side of me that I’d kept on lockdown. I’d done it without a second thought with someone I’d only just met. The focus on me was suddenly too much and I was hovering over the panic button, when his words gave me something to sink teeth into, a nice piece of marbled meat that fed my need for distraction, and just like that it all snapped into place.

He was too right about Ambellina. Aside from the accessory info about her own buried treasures, what he stated was plain for even me to see… she was undeniably strong, delicate in stature but ferocious in nature.

The night she’d survived by a thin inch was not something she would be able to let go of without ahvenging the horrors she had been subjected to. My jaw clenched at the thought of the nightmare she had lived and the monstrous male who had inflicted the suffering. Lassiter had been right about that too, she wasn’t going to stand down and let anyone serve up the dessert that needed shoved down Rhancid’s throat.

So I couldn’t rip the filth to shreds without depriving Ambellina of what she deserved, but I could do something.

I could protect her… in the way I’d never been capable of with my mother. I could keep her safe so that other females would avoid the fate that had befallen her. I could make sure this Rhancid, never, ever inflicted these bloodied memories on another.

And to do that I couldn’t be… weak.

Lassiter was going to get his gold star, too. Fuck if he didn’t work for it. Like a skilled thief, he’d rotated my dial in perfect sequence, opening the vault that held the resolution. I hooked my thumbs around his, subconsciously worried that a break in the contact would have me losing my nerve. My eyes held his, too.-

I will take her vein.

-Yeah. It wasn’t much to go on and I was sure that my scant details left Lassiter wanting, but if I started explaining myself, I might end up confessing to the guy that it was only until she had her peace, that this wasn’t a forever thing. Once Ambellina was safe my purpose would be done. After all, there really was nothing else holding me to this life. Nothing and no one.-

Ambellina: ~The quiet kindness Jagger had displayed was not lost on me. It smelled slightly of pity to me, and stung my still open but slowly healing wounds. I must be looking atrocious so it was no wonder the male refused my vein. Cleaning up was most definitely a good idea, mayhap I could salvage my appearance with a washcloth and soap, rid my skin and hair of the blood and dirt I could feel had dried and stained my usual pristine appearance. Likely, he wouldn’t be able to get my wretched first impression out of his mind so I had my work cut out for me. I purposely avoided looking in the mirror while he showed me around then whispered a soft thank you before he made a swift exit, further evidence of how awful I must look. Carefully, I removed my beloved compact from my pocket and set it on the countertop then began to unbutton my coat, letting it fall off my shoulders to pool in a heap at my feet. My shirt and jeans followed behind in a similar fashion, immediately forgotten as soon as they hit the floor. Movement hurt but I knew I’d be fine in time. My ego however, it was severely wounded and would take a lot more than a feeding to recover from both the knowledge of being bested by Rhancid and rejected by Jagger. With a sigh, I moved over to the claw foot tub and twisted the taps to let the water begin to fill, wanting it the hottest it could go which was all the better to wash my failures away. Sadly, my desperate avoidance had come to an end. I looked down at my body, bruises lingered on my arms and my hands looked ragged while my nails had blood and skin stuck beneath the ones I hadn’t broken. At least I had put up as much of a fight as I had been able to. I forced my eyes to lift to look at my reflection in the mirror and when I did, I flinched.~ Oh, sweet Virgin Scribe. How...? How did I possibly survive this? I should be in the Fade right now, without a doubt. ~Cautiously my fingers lifted to the wounds at my neck, they shook as I leaned toward the mirror to get a closer look. I could see every single fang piercing Rhancid had been certain to leave behind. He hadn’t been cautious or careful, no, he very clearly had been intent on ravaging my vein. A punishment for having stabbed him in the thigh, no doubt. The crimson stains of my blood stood out in stark contrast to my pale skin, and I looked like I had suffered a vicious animal attack.

My vision grew fuzzy and in a blink, it cleared as a couple of tears slid down my swollen and puffy cheeks. Immediately and with a desperate roughness, I wiped them away out of fear that even the smallest amount of salt in a few errant tears would leave me with a permanent and lifelong reminder of my failure. Not only that but it would absolutely detract from my appearance which as vain as it sounded, would undoubtedly decrease from the amount I could charge my clients. I wasn’t a fool to think they chose me ONLY for the flavour and potency of my blood...my looks were a huge component to the bottom line. Anger returned in a flash as more tears poured down my cheeks without my permission. Traitors. Every single one of them. Ambellina Newo was not this weak, emotional female I saw reflected back at me in the mirror, I had left her behind decades ago when my Mahmen had passed. Nor was she the female with a swollen, purple eye and a too large cut running through her eyebrow. More wiping at my eyes followed removal of my undergarments and continued on as I moved to turn off the taps and still as I stepped into the tub. While the heat of the water seeped into my skin, warming me in a way I needed more than I realized, tears continued to pour silently down my cheeks. I resigned myself to allowing the emotions to purge no matter how strongly I wished to reject the fact that I was hurt and upset and very much feeling vulnerable.~

Lassiter:

<I could feel Jagger’s decision had been made the moment his thumbs hooked around mine, but to what extent, I was still waiting to hear. He didn’t disappoint with those handful of words agreeing to take Blondie’s vein. Relief washed over me in a torrent but it was quickly replaced with hesitation and uncertainty, there was an unspoken caveat to his agreement. I could see it in the determination that filled his eyes.

Jagger was very clearly decided within his own mind and I was aching to push my way into his mind to have a look see what I was going to be dealing with next, but instead of giving into that urge, I broke my eyes from his and looked toward the ceiling and whispered quietly through a sigh, showing my acceptance of his few words with a pair of my own. Baby steps. I could work with that, no problem.> Thank you.

<My hands continued to squeeze his as I delivered the healing warmth, hoping it would help knit back together the damage his piece of shit father had done, though I suspected it would take a lot more than that to have him wanting to remain on God’s great earth for his own reasons and not just because I had asked him to help another. When further blood exchange had happened and Blondie was safely on her way home, that would become my self-initiated work.

There were still too many hours to get through before I could focus on that so I mentally shelved my plan and chose another one, hoping to offer a simple distraction that could add to Blondie’s healing when she emerged from the bathroom.> So, what sort of food do you have in this place, mind if I take a look around the kitchen?

<Lifting up from the coffee table, I kept one of Jagger’s hands in mine and tugged him along as I made my way in that direction without waiting for permission. On our way, I paused long enough to pick up the fallen bottle that had been left forgotten on the floor and set it on the counter. Giving Jagger’s hand a firm squeeze and a stronger dose of warmth, I felt the loss of contact immediately after letting go. It had me taking a brief pause to evaluate but not long enough to have myself looking lost when our change in location was at my suggestion.

Flashing Jagger a grin, I got busy rummaging through the fridge and cupboards to see what I could work with, taking a few things out and setting them on the counter next to the stove before looking back at him.> Are you much of a breakfast person?

Jagger:

-I answered Lassiter with a quick shake of my head and I didn’t second guess it when he kept hold of my hand, successfully helping to peel my ass off the couch. I couldn’t get enough of that soothing warmth transmitting from his hand to mine. It was unspoken comfort, but what it said without words could have filled bookshelves. I may have lost my taste for the future, but what nobody could see is that I didn’t have a death wish.

Sure, I had never been much for physical contact, but damn if I was going to let go of his hand when instinct was telling me to hold on. As fleeting as my existence may be, I didn’t take shit for granted and that I liked what was doing didn’t escape me. If I never saw Lassiter again after night came to end this sequester, I wouldn’t forget this, that for a blink of time, I enjoyed another’s company and I wasn’t anxious for it to be done. I couldn’t ignore my self-inflicted wound and the internal wince at the thought of this being the first and last time I might see the guy and when he let go of my hand to pick up my discarded bottle, the loss of warmth was immediate and the strangest fucking thing happened. A word broadcasted through my scattered head out of nowhere and without explanation, leaving behind all kinds of residual that translated physically. Shivers up the spine. Sweaty palms. Thick swallows. Pounding heart. My mouth stayed shut up tight, my lips boarded up better than the house the dimwits in horror flicks categorically failed to avoid. I raked my hand over my head to no ease, thankful Lassiter hadn’t seemed to notice as he combed through the kitchen. That grin he flashed worked like a life preserver, rescuing me from the tidal wave of thoughts and feelings I didn’t understand.-

Hell yeah, I’m a breakfast person. -He couldn’t have known, or maybe he did, but breakfast or first meal as my father had called it, was time I always got to share with my mom alone. Lazy and spent from ugly deeds, Rhuin never appeared until long after the shutters had raised. It was the quietest time in our house, topped only by the times he was away - but even those instances were weighed down knowing we were safe, but that others weren’t. Walking over to Lassiter, I had the drive to get in on the menu and further out of the trappings of my head.-

You? And what about Ambellina? Think she’ll have an appetite?

Lassiter:

<Jagger was a breakfast person. Well. Hello little golden nugget of info I wasn’t expecting. My grin widened at him as I nodded to his question.> I’m an anything that has to do with shoving things that taste good in my trap sort of guy. <Chuckling quietly, I found myself appreciating the ease that befell us in the wake of all the heavy we had been dealing with, I returned to the fridge and pulled a few more things out. Milk. Eggs. Butter. I was impressed the bachelor type like Jagger had fresh shit in his house, especially given the bottle he had so obviously been nursing upon our arrival. Ambellina...Blondie...I wasn’t sure what kind of appetite she would have once she was done cleaning up so I offered a shrug before I started cracking some eggs in a bowl, adding milk into the mix.> Bread...and what’s that fancy shit Fritz is always so excited about? <talking more to myself than anything, I shoved my hand into Jagger’s cupboard and got lucky when my fingers wrapped around the jar.> Cinnamon.

<While my hands worked, I grinned as Jagger moved in beside me to help.> I really couldn’t tell you if she will be hungry, I’m guessing she’s the type who’d decline if she knew she could be gone in short time, but since we’re all here until the sun goes to bed...I bet she’ll indulge. You vamp types can pack the calories in, even when you’ve had your blood needs met, at least that’s been my observation at the manse.

<Effortlessly we fell into a French toast assembly line, me with the mixing and dunking the bread while Jagger manned the frying pan, flipping and piling them high. I wasn’t sure just how much he’d eat, but when we had damn near cooked an entire loaf of bread, I called us good and set the messy dishes next to the sink before looking in the direction of the hall. The moment of shared domestication gave me a feeling I had yet to experience at the manse...and one that I hadn’t expected when I pounded on Jagger’s door. Comfortable ease. I wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with this kind of feeling, it had just been a few hot minutes since I’d experienced it with another being, yet, here I was feeling it with Jagger in the most casual of ways. There was no unspoken animosity or bad blood that jacked up the tension in the air. No lingering self-created pressure to do more to please the Creator. I felt like I could unstrap my responsibilities for the time being and breathe without all of its invisible weight pressing down on my chest.

Freedom. It was French toast in a tiny kitchen, standing opposite a guy I’d met only an hour ago.> I think we could probably start without her while it’s hot, yeah?

Jagger:

-If a week ago anyone had told me I’d be standing in my kitchen, making French toast with an angel post feeding a female who was now in my bathtub, I’d bet the house against the prediction.

But here I was.

Lassiter was so different than any male I’d ever encountered, not that all were painted with the same brush as my predecessor. The angel had a casualness about him, an ease that invited me in and then hosted a take over of my inherent stoicism. Hell, that had been in hours, who knew what prolonged exposure would do.

That’s where my thoughts went as I watched him crack eggs in a way that would make Gordon Ramsay yell but made me grin. I sort of felt like I had a rockstar in my kitchen, but I wasn’t a groupie… I was more like the right hand man.

Funny how frying up some French toast could provoke such thought.

I hit the oven up, warming it to two hundred degrees, sticking a few slices on a plate and popping them in, in the case Ambellina would take us up on food. I split the rest between two plates and the pure maple syrup got thirty seconds in the micro. It seemed Lassiter was on the same wavelength again…-

Yeah, can’t let all the fancy cinnamon go cold. -I couldn’t help the slight grin that hit my lips, even though my attempt at humor was likely lacking, and that self-eval rolled into a why-the-hell-do-you-care moment.

Before I could go into all kinds of Dr. Phil on myself, I grabbed up the plates, setting them down on the table that had hosted a party of one for more than a decade before I hit up the microwave for the syrup. Damn… what a trip. And one a part of me didn’t want to end.-

Ambellina:

~I’d lost track of time while I washed away my failures and shame in Jagger’s clawfoot tub, and in that loss of time, my tears had ceased and the water had grown cool. I didn’t concern myself with being one of those houseguests with terrible manners, it wasn’t like we were dependant upon my getting ready with any kind of speed. The sun was definitely still out. When I pulled to plug on the drain, and stepped out, I stood...dripping all over the floor mat while I watched the water tornado swirl. That was always my favourite thing about taking baths as a child and I carried the fondness with me well into adulthood. Strange how the hypnotic circular motion of the water worked to calm my anger, it wasn’t completely gone, no. I had simply back burnered it until a more appropriate time. For the now, I had redirected my focus to ensuring I had paid back in full my blood debt to Jagger while fulfilling the favour Ghiselle had asked of me. The cliched two birds and one stone. Unfortunately for me, this bird seemed to be experienced at dodging the stones I had previously thrown. Taking great care to wring out my wet hair and gently patting my wounds dry, I hung the towel back on the bar and opened the door to the bedroom. Surprise found me in the form of clothing options. Immediately I wondered if Jagger had someone which was why he had rejected my vein, while the scent that lingered upon the clothing was delicate and feminine, it was not one that was fresh. And the style was not current either, which suited my unique fashion sense relatively well. As I dressed, I idly I wondered who the female in Jagger’s life had been and where she was now. Regardless of the answers I was certain I’d never know, I was grateful for something to wear that wasn’t covered in blood. I finger combed my hair then tucked it behind my ears before giving my reflection one last appraisal. The swelling around my eye was nearly gone and the less severe wounds had all but stitched themselves back together. The wretched bite marks on my neck would still need more time but were well on their way. Hopefully the improvement in my looks would be enough to try again with offering my vein to Jagger. With a deep breath, I smoothed my hands down the front of my borrowed shirt before quietly opening the bedroom door. Instantly I was hit with a scent of warm cinnamon and browned butter which I followed along with the sound of voices down the hall.~

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rajesharya143-blog · 3 years

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Latest Wedding Photography Style You will like the Most

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#wedding photography #best photographer #indian wedding photography

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canniballistics · 8 years

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quick thinking

fandom: masquerada: songs and shadows pair: cicero/kalden words: 2215 ao3 version here. this definitely is what should have happened during the game. definitely. kissing as a disguise definitely definitely should have happened.

It was not, he supposed, one of the strangest situations he'd ever been in. Surely there had been more instances, varied and colorful, over the last few years; the fact that he could only remember some as little more than their consequences lent credence to that belief. Certainly, there were few things as odd as creeping around the sewers in disguise, with a Mariner in tow, but having ended up in the gutter on more than one occasion, Cicero couldn't help but feel that this couldn't rank too highly on that list.

His companion was an odd sort; why he was so desperate to find his brother, despite not having spoken with him for years, was perhaps even stranger than their situation. Despite their differences in ideology, he and Cyrus had still spoken, and often. It only stopped when—

Hm. That was not a helpful train of thought. He shook his head to clear it, and very nearly walked straight into the Mariner's back. A large hand shot out to help steady him as he stumbled; Cicero took it by instinct, and rather than continuing to ruminate on his brother, found himself instead marvelling at the difference between their two hands. He had seen the proof of it when the ladder had broken beneath the man's bulk, and was reminded again whenever they stood shoulder to shoulder — head to shoulder: Kalden Azrus was an absolute mountain of a man. Cicero couldn't stop his mind wandering, the quiet, dark parts wondering—

"Inspettore?" The voice was soft, but puzzled, snapping Cicero out of his thoughts and the strange turns they were taking. He looked up into dark eyes, which glanced back down to where their hands were still clasped. "Is everything alright?"

"Ages," Cicero muttered, drawing his hand back quickly. "I'm sorry, I was..distracted." He laughed, and was glad that it didn't sound nearly as forced as it was. "You're quite different from Razitof. I have to wonder just what your parents fed you, growing up. Must've eaten all your spinach, and Razitof's share as well, hm?"

It was far from the response he thought he would get as the Mariner straightened up, his expression seeming to shutter as he turned away. "No," was all he said, before turning back to the mouth of the alley they occupied.

Far from put out, Cicero instead felt...what? Curiosity, surely, at that reaction. Perhaps also a touch of regret? He hadn't thought to reach a sore spot so soon, and with what he'd thought to be a harmless jest. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it just as quickly. Chances were high that anything he said to excuse himself would only exacerbate the issue; instead, he crept up next to the man, checking to make sure their way was clear. He let a hand settle on Kalden's bare forearm, blinking in surprise upon realizing there was a tattoo there. Interesting. He didn't really seem the type. Hidden depths, Cicero had to remind himself. People are not so simple as to be one-dimensional; everyone has hidden depths, and Kalden is no different.

Once he was sure he had his attention, Cicero offered a small smile. "I...apologize, for any misstep I might have made. It was not my intent to offend, in whatever way I did; I'll be sure to take more care with my words, in the future." And then, without waiting for a response, he darted out of the alley. "Come. The coast is clear, for now."

It was gratifying, then, that Kalden followed him without word or question. They made their way across what must surely have been a trading square, dodging between abandoned stalls and tables. Cicero hesitated for only a moment before swiping an apple from a forgotten bushel; he rubbed it against his borrowed sleeve before taking a bite, and only noticed after that Kalden was watching him, an eyebrow raised.

"What is it, Mariner?"

"You cannot be certain where that shirt has been," Kalden said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "And I believe that may have been someone's produce to sell. Should an Inspettore really be stealing from the people?"

"Pah," Cicero dismissed the words with a wave of his hand. "The whole area's been all but abandoned! I'm merely saving this poor apple from a horrible fate, of rotting away and never fulfilling its potential as a food." He paused, thinking. "Though, you may have a point about the shirt."

It earned him a low chuckle, and Cicero had to look away quickly, busy himself with taking another large bite of apple. That was...an interesting sound. Fascinating, really, how it seemed to rumble deep in Kalden's broad chest before eventually tumbling from his lips. Cicero found himself wanting to hear it again.

They were working, however. This was neither the time, nor the place. Nor the borrowed outfits, despite how suited Kalden was to his.

"Anyway," Cicero coughed, once he'd finished chewing. "I believe we'll be heading that way," and he gestured to a nearby street. "We should—"

He was interrupted by a clattering on the other side of the plaza, and the two of them darted around the closest corner. Cursing echoed after them, as well as unfamiliar voices.

"Would you shut up!"

"Sorry, sorry! Someone scattered some damn bottles, nearly twisted my ankle!"

"Well, maybe if you weren't so clumsy—"

"Hey, who're you calling clumsy?!"

"Will the both of you shut up! Or did you forget we're looking for someone?!" The other two voices quieted immediately. "Alfons and Edvard didn't just lose their clothes, someone had to have taken them. We have to find and stop whoever that is!"

"Right!" "Of course! Sorry!"

Damn. It only made sense that they'd be found out; such a ruse couldn't possibly last. Cicero had hoped they'd had more time, however, and he glanced around as his mind raced. They were in a small, shaded alley, whose only outlet would deliver them straight into their pursuers' hands. That was not an option, not so quickly, but if he and Kalden were to stay put, they would surely be discovered. They needed to hide in plain sight, to have their stalkers turn their gazes of their own accord. His mind turned back to the five years he'd spent adrift, and of the fastest way he knew to disappear.

"Ages. Mariner, this way."

Cicero grabbed Kalden's arm, dragging him further into shadow. Far enough that the colors of their clothes were muddled by the darkness, hopefully indistinguishable between the Maskrunners' uniforms and a Contadani's day to day. The footsteps of their pursuers were getting louder; they must have left a trail, where they cleared debris from their path. Cicero looked up at Kalden, who was frowning toward the mouth of the alley.

"Should we not simply fight?" he muttered, before looking down at Cicero. "It sounds as though there are only the three; I'm sure—"

"Not without calling attention to the skirmish," Cicero interrupted. He winced as a basket went rolling past their alley. "And I'm afraid that is time we do not have to waste." They were getting closer. He needed to act, and quickly. He grabbed Kalden's hands, settling them on his waist, before hooking his own at the back of Kalden's neck. Tried very, very hard not to think about how thoroughly those large hands spanned his waist. "Forgive me," he murmured, before pulling him down for a kiss.

It was, admittedly, not the best plan. Hell, it was barely a plan at all. When he thought about all the various ways this could backfire, it very nearly made Cicero laugh; the Maskrunners would simply need to come into the alley, or Kalden could shove him away. He would be well within his right to, if he did, and so all Cicero could now was wait, and hope. Hope that the party seeking them would be so embarrassed by public affection so to turn away, hope that Kalden would trust him to let this work.

And somewhere deep in his chest, hope that this did not completely unravel what thin ties they had been already begun weaving.

Kalden froze against him nearly immediately. It was hardly unexpected. Cicero was well aware of how they would be treated if they were discovered, and a pang of guilt struck through him at how this might damage Kalden's reputation. His own was run so ragged and tarnished already that the thought of one more stain didn't bother him in the least; Kalden, however, was far from a disgraced exile. He might have a life, a family — the thought of upending whatever quiet life Kalden had made for himself twisted in Cicero's gut.

It was too late for regrets, however. Not a second later, a pair of shadows appeared at the end of the alley. Cicero could barely see them past Kalden's shoulder, found himself praying that their posing was convincing enough. The figures stood there for a moment, assessing — Cicero couldn't tell if they were watching the two of them, or if they were looking at something else — before thankfully, blessedly moving on.

"Nothin' down there, Liv."

"Yeah, maybe they escaped into one of these buildings? That one's got a smashed window, they could've climbed in there!"

"Then what are you two waiting for? Go on!"

The figures at the end of the alley were joined by a third, and Cicero could hear a quiet, derisive "don't they know what's going on right now?" before the three of them moved, past the alley and away.

Cicero let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, sagging into Kalden and leaning his head against his shoulder as relief washed through him. They hadn't been found out, not yet; it was this thought that kept his arms around Kalden's shoulder, to keep up the appearance of intimacy between them. There was no way to tell whether or not their pursuers would come back, or if someone else was following after them. The safest thing to do was to keep up pretenses, for at least a moment longer.

"Cicero—" Kalden's voice was tense, a deep, low whisper against his ear that sent a shudder down Cicero's spine. Ages. Who allowed this? At least he was keeping his voice down, quiet enough that only Cicero could hear. "What are we doing?"

He laughed against Kalden's neck, almost giddy at the fact this new ruse had succeeded. "At the moment? Keeping up appearances, in case those three return." Truly, I can't believe this worked, he thought, and bit his lip to keep from giving it voice. Best not to let Kalden know how unsure he'd been about all this, that he hadn't been remotely close to positive the deception would succeed.

Kalden only sighed deeply. "And before?"

Cicero watched for a moment more, before stepping back from Kalden. It was a strange shift, nearly unbalancing him; he hadn't realized he'd been standing on the tips of his toes to make himself tall enough. "I learned...a while ago, that most people are not fans of public displays of affection. To see a loving couple doting, or embracing — most turn their eyes away, so as not to stare. It makes people uncomfortable, so they unconsciously stop themselves from seeing it."

"And you figured that this would protect our anonymity?" There was a strange quality to Kalden's voice, something that Cicero couldn't quite place. "What if we had been discovered?"

His hands had curled into fists, Cicero realized. He took a deep breath. "Then we would have summarily dispatched them, and whatever reputation you may have here in the Citte would be safe." Cicero chewed at the inside of his lip, just for a second, before looking at him. "I am sorry. It was the quickest way I could think of to keep their eyes off of us. And if things had taken a turn for the worse, I assure you, the blame would fall squarely on my own shoulders. I would not allow it any other way."

Kalden was quiet for a moment, watching him. His hands, at least, had unfurled as he'd been speaking. "You are an…interesting man, Cicero."

A quiet chuckle, and Cicero nodded. "Thank you. It's far from the worst I've been called, and you would be well within your right to call me worse; I'll gratefully accept interesting, from you."

He turned then, creeping up to the mouth of the alley and peering around the corner. There was no sign of the people who had been chasing them, having apparently climbed into one of the buildings adjacent to theirs and kept moving. It was a stroke of luck, and not one that he intended to waste.

"Let's go, Mariner," he murmured, gesturing back at him. "We've got work to do, after all."

Again, Cicero found himself surprised when Kalden followed after him. Surprised, but also relieved. No doubt the man wanted to find his brother, and that was the reason; still, it was something of a comfort to know he hadn't yet cost himself an ally. Whether or not the partnership would last remained to be seen.

For now, at least, it was enough. They had a job to do, after all.

#masquerada: songs and shadows #cicero gavar #kalden azrus #masquerada #marinspettore #there's gonna be a lot more of this from me #just you wait #kieran writes

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barreragraham90 · 4 years

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Youtube Reiki Healing Music 2 Creative And Inexpensive Diy Ideas

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agentdagonet · 5 years

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Echoes, Ch. 32

Find it here on AO3

Find it here on tumblr: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

Fic Summary: Feet dangling off the edge of the bed, hands still resting on the earpieces of his glasses, Eggsy opened his eyes.

And promptly shut them again, screwing them shut like a child who had the distinct misfortune of biting into a raw lemon. Breathing harshly in his nose and out his mouth, trying to stave off whatever delusional panic had befallen him, Eggsy reopened his eyes.

‘Harry?’

Or: The Hologram Story Nobody Asked For

‘Galahad and Arthur are the least likely to get made.’

‘They can’t keep their eyes off each other-’

‘Exactly. They’re always staring at one another but neither of them seems to notice the other. They’re oblivious to each other, but are hyper aware of others and that’s precisely what we need.’ Roxanne had a point, one that he was reluctant to acknowledge, but he knew that they needed the intel.

There was a woman, Kelline Grisham, who had been tied to one of the hundreds of groups that stole remains of V-Day victims and pressed them into diamonds to then sell on the black market. Which in and of itself wouldn’t be too heinous, but of late victims’ families were disappearing as well- and human trafficking on a global scale, seventeen families last week alone, was a fair bit more up their alley. Grisham was rumoured to be a local Collector in New Zealand- drugs, secrets, bodies- if it was of interest to someone it was of interest to her, and that made her a lynchpin between many groups. She certainly didn’t stage herself that way but it was known, in the way all unseemly things are, that she was the one to go to if there was a need of a darker sort.

Luckily for them, and hopefully unluckily for her, she enjoyed a night on the town enough for there to be a trail to follow- and she was set to be spending the following weekend in Christchurch, if the pattern was to be believed. Grisham was a fan of both drink and drug, though not to the point of indiscretion, but she was known to have a certain taste in men: younger, rougher, with a disregard for the law and a distinct lack of connections. Kingsman only had one agent who could pass as such, that was obvious, but the nature of the mission meant that very little of their tech could be on Eggsy at the time of engagement.

Backup would have to be sent, though Merlin was wary at sending Harry and Eggsy into a situation like that. Where one would have to watch the other attempt to seduce a target when they were on such strangely entwined terms themselves. But Percival, Gawain, Bedivere, Gareth, and Bors were all engaged in other missions, and Roxanne, unfortunately, would be more noticable solely for her gender.

Grisham was the woman who was the centre of the room, and if she was not she would find a room she could be the centre of. Another woman getting attention simply would not do- but another older man at a bar would be nothing to notice.

‘You’re right- I don’t like it, lass, but you’re right. And we both know they’ll jump at the chance to be of some use, no matter the more personal consequences.’

‘I think you’re underestimating them, Merlin- they’re both skilled, professional, Knights who know the difference between their lives and the Work.’

‘We’ll see.’

The pair stood from the table, hovered awkwardly in one another’s space for a moment before parting ways, Merlin toward the Dining Room and Roxanne to the range. Ever since Harry’s miraculous return, and Eggsy’s subsequent leap from Existing to Living, the two had taken to talking over any potential proposals to either of the men before actually speaking to them. It was partially due to a desire to avoid conflict, but mostly it was a way for them to reconcile the seeming replacement they’d faced in the two men’s lives.

For too long they had been the only true support the other men had had- Eggsy had relied on Roxy for any of a thousand things: a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, an outlet to vent to, a target to aim at when everything else was too much to process. Sometimes, having a companion on a Path, even one as different as Roxy was from Eggsy, was worth its weight in gold. Harry had lost everything in the course of their antagonistic friendship- for all that they had hated each other at the start, each loss they suffered had brought them together. By the time Harry’s parents had passed, they were all the other had left- and now it was no longer so.

So Merlin and Roxanne had turned to each other to try and fill that void- though they were loathe to use such a term. Or even acknowledge that that was what they were doing.They were fully capable of existing outside of those relationships- but the adjustment was still a long and difficult one to make.

Perhaps they all had a fair bit of growing to do, as Michelle would say. Merlin mentally tallied that thought for later, and strolled into the room, tossing a paper-clipped folder in Harry’s general direction before taking his habitual spot in the corner.

‘Afternoon, Arthur.’

‘You know better than to use that tone with me, Merlin. We’ve known each other long enough.’

‘It’s work, Harry- you and I both know better than to be lax in our professional lives.’

‘I suppose so. Well, what do you have for me today, Merlin?’

‘We have a lead on Grisham, and we think Galahad’s the agent for the mission.’

‘We do, do we?’

‘He’s the youngest of us, knows both sides of the fence well enough, and happens to fall in line with the rest of her requirements for companionship.’

‘I’m to assume that there’s more to it than that?’

‘Yes; unfortunately, the requirements of such an engagement, considering the setting,’ Merlin paused, ‘we don’t think we will be able to equip Galahad with enough of our more combative tech to be safe- we must prioritise the surveillance and cloning equipment, which would leave Galahad in potential danger.’

‘All of our Knights are in danger in every mission, what about this mission in particular has you toeing a line about an issue?’

‘... Grisham is known for commanding a room, and for making a spectacle of herself and her chosen companion. If she does not think she has an audience, she will leave an establishment- and we cannot afford to set this stage twice if we expect to get anywhere.’

‘So you’re requesting an extra agent be sent along to, ah, give her the audience she desires?’ Harry couldn’t help the flash of not quite rage that went through him, thinking of some other person with their hands all over Eggsy, but he knew that Merlin never made decisions lightly. The fact that he was asking instead of demanding meant that he knew how it would affect him, and was attempting to be delicate. Which was a waste of energy, as delicately talking around an issue had never been part of leadership.

‘Yes, sir.’ Merlin looked him in the eye, face betraying nothing, but one hand tapped lightly at the clipboard he wasn’t actually looking at. He was truly concerned for the answer, then.

‘Granted.’ Would he truly have answered in any other respect?

‘You haven’t even heard me all the way through, Harry.’

‘I don’t need to to know that you’re worried for our Agent and are attempting to give this mission the highest rate of success you can- which is our priority. You don’t need my permission to give our people the tools they need to succeed- even if they happen to be people as opposed to gadgets.’

‘I didn’t expect you to refuse me, Harry- you know better than to ignore my requests as a bit of folly,’ both men grimaced at one another, reminded for a moment of Chester King’s way of running things, ‘but I thought you would wish to know who I was asking to send along before agreeing.’

‘I expect it will be Lancelot- a fitting competitor for Grisham’s target: young, beautiful, wealthy, and perhaps a little dangerous.’ Harry spent a moment to observe Kelline’s features- tall, dark hair and light eyes, form trim but not bony, the beginnings of laugh lines showing through her minimal makeup. She would certainly have her pick of suitors in any setting.

‘While your breakdown of what our planted competition needs to have is correct, your conclusion is incorrect.’ Merlin put the clipboard down on the table, both hands splayed on the surface as he looked Harry in the eye. ‘I need you on this, Harry.’

‘You need a greying nearly-sixty year old man with a very distinctive scar to be the audience to the attempted seduction of a woman who wants to know she has an audience?’

‘Yes.’

‘... Well, in this respect I must acquiesce to your expertise.’ Merlin could tell he had more questions, but thankfully did not have the chance to ask them before the door swung open and Eggsy walked into the room.

‘Well, speak of the devil.’

‘Thought I felt my ears burnin’- you talkin’ shit?’ Eggsy took the seat to Harry’s right- the same seat he’d been in the day he’d killed Chester King, the seat Harry himself had often occupied during briefings with the man, and Harry marveled at the differences between those moments and this one. Eggsy’d kicked the chair up at an angle, balanced precariously, and it took a bit more than he was willing to disclose to not knock the man over for sheer cheek.

‘The opposite, actually,’ Harry said, flipping closed the folder and turning it in Eggsy’s general direction before sitting back in his chair with a purposeful air of indifference. Both excitement and dread were equally dooming in interactions like this- Eggsy would base his reactions based on his own, sometimes- not often enough for it to be an issue, but Harry wanted Eggsy to be making judgements for himself. It was a lifetime’s habit to break, gauging a room before reacting, and too useful a skill to want to erase entirely in their line of work. But, at least in their off time, Harry desperately wanted for Eggsy to learn how to react for himself and not for the sake of someone else.

‘This a real honeypot? I though’ those were made up for them Bond films.’

‘They’re far rarer than anyone would assume. But, sometimes, when the cards are right, it’s the best play to make. She seems to do things more for show than a true desire for companionship, and you tick all her boxes.’ Merlin was matter of fact in his delivery, though he inwardly cursed the pair before him for their inability to react the way others would. The pair of them were built to drive him mad.

‘So what’s the plan, then, if she’s in it for the show?’

‘We’ll send you and another agent into the venue, obviously unaffiliated; you will make yourself noticeably available and interested, and allow for her to make contact. Over the course of the evening, when the opportunity presents itself, you’ll plant at least one bug on her person. More is generally better than less, but it’s more important that they not be discovered. The information gathered by those will determine the next step Kingsman takes concerning these Ash Diamonds. Any questions?’

‘We legit calling them Ash Diamonds? For real?’

‘That’s beside the point, Galahad. But yes, that’s the term we’ve decided upon. Do you have any real questions?’

‘Nah- get in, make it worth her while, and bug the fuck out of her- that’s the gist, yeah?’ Merlin sighed, one hand pinched the bridge of his nose, and Harry stifled a chuckle. To see Merlin driven so quickly spare with little of his own influence was wonderful.

‘We’ll be sending the two of you to Christchurch Wednesday next to get settled in and set yourselves up as visitors only there for a short while. Better to have an alibi already in place, should you need to escape quickly.’

‘The two of us?’ Eggsy let the chair fall forward, elbows on the tabletop, one hand pointing between himself and Harry; surprised, but not offended.

‘Yes, Eggsy- it seems that a man like me is precisely the kind of audience she prefers.’

‘Well you’re fit as fuck so that ain’t no surprise, but I gotta say I was expectin’ to be sent with Roxy.’

‘As was I, but Merlin is quite convinced that we are the best team for the job.’

‘Well, brilliant, love missions with you.’ It was earnest, but not in the way that made one think of a puppy looking for a belly rub. It was in the simple sincerity, the kind of thing one could only achieve with blatant honesty and no ulterior motive.

Merlin found it frustrating. Harry found it delightful.

#dagonet writes #kingsman fic #kingsman #echoes fic

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businessboostertoday · 5 years

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8 Wisdom Secrets to Win the Game of Life & Business

As a global entrepreneur on the path to success, your life and business will have highs and lows, encounter challenges and opportunities, experience profit and loss, and meet both supporters and detractors.

It is wise to develop a strategy that empowers you to enjoy your wealth with happiness, to create success without stress and to grow your business without losing your health and joy along the way.

I’ve coached leading CEO’s, Business Tycoons, Award-Winning Entrepreneurs, Hollywood Celebrities and Royalty to grow their life, business and wealth. Let me share with you some wisdom secrets to create more success and happiness in your life and business.

Whether we are business professionals mastering the corporate world or a housewife managing a household, the fact is that we have collected plenty of stress upon ourselves rather unconsciously. This stress creates unhappiness and discontentment and robs us of fulfilment, happiness, success and a sense of accomplishment. How can we manage stress, stay happy & increase profits?

The word ‘stress’ originates from the French word ‘estrece’ meaning ‘narrowness’ and is used to depict a limiting or constriction of your power and abilities.

You have the feeling of being stressed out when you think you have too much to handle on a mental, emotional or physical level. It also occurs when you view change and pressure as burdens rather than as challenges.

Anything viewed negatively has the potential of causing stress regardless of what the thing may be. However, what makes one particular person stress-full may be quite an ordinary event for another. Stress therefore is created not by the event or circumstance itself but by the way we respond to what happens to us in any moment of our life.

Stress is created not by the event or circumstance itself but by the way we respond to it.

Wisdom teaches that before the feeling of stress is felt, it is created by a certain mindset within. If we can alter our way of thinking, we can change the way we feel about anything.

Simply put, stress is the result of the way we think. And if we develop the ability to change our thoughts, we have in our hands the power to eradicate the stress that we feel regardless of what the causes may be. If not managed, or redirected, this stress leads to toxic build-up that sabotages our success and happiness, both in business and life.

We are the creators of stress and it logically follows that we alone will provide the solution to it.

Here are 8 simple and effective strategies that exceptional individuals use to manage stress, stay happy and win the game of life and business.

1. Accept Responsibility of your Life and Everything in it

Whatever you experience in your life i.e., whatever happens in your life, and the way you feel and react towards it, is a direct expression of who you are. At the deepest level, everything occurring in your life-experience is the result of your own desires, choices, actions and reactions.

Whether you realise it or not, you are the author of your own life story and you are writing it in every thought you have and every action you take.

You are the author of your own life story.

Vikas

Remember, you should lead your business, your business should not lead you! Therefore, accept full responsibility and control of your own life. Control both of what your life is now and what you want it to be.

Resolve that just for today you will not get angry, not worry, and will remember to count your blessings, no matter what life brings. This will empower you with a calm and clear mind which can take effective actions that bring success. A calm mind is the ideal weapon for victory, while an agitated and stressed mind is an enemy of success.

Wealth without Wisdom is Failure. Wisdom without Wealth is Frustration. Resolve that you will create both inner and outer abundance in your life and business. Resolve to create Wealth with Wisdom and Success with Happiness, because having only one and not the other leaves life incomplete.

Wealth without Wisdom is Failure.

Wisdom without Wealth is Frustration

– Vikas

Stretch your Comfort Zone

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Be Action-Oriented

Wisdom turns into strength only if it is followed up with action. Results come from actions, not thoughts and words. To learn how to swim, you must get wet.

Remember that the best strategy in the world won’t bring results unless you translate it into effective action. Excessive thinking leads to stress, and action often releases it.

Get the Full article which was in the magazine. Follow the link to get a digital copy of our magazine.

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Choose to be Optimistic

You always have two choices in every situation – either curse the darkness, or light a candle. Choose the more positive attitude, always, regardless of the situation. It comes at the same expense as the negative choice but with extremely different consequences. One produces stress and the other releases it. Remember that stress arises out of the way you think.

Invest in Meditation

In the midst of frantic activity and endless to-do lists, it’s easy to lose your inner stability, happiness and peace of mind. Once this goes missing, nothing else will feel fulfilling.

We need to create both inner happiness and outer success in our life to be truly fulfilled. A calm mind is the ideal weapon for victory, while an agitated and stressed mind is an enemy of success.

A cam mind is the ideal weapon for victory, while an agitated and stressed mind is an enemy of success. – Vikas

To develop a calm and clear mind that’s …

Get the Full article which was in the magazine. Follow the link to get a digital copy of our magazine.

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… when we meditate activate the body’s own healing forces.

Meditation is the best time investment you can make. – Vikas

Meditation is an excellent complement to conventional medicine or surgery. It has been seen that patients who meditate heal themselves faster.

When the nervous system is rested by meditation, our brain works at peak efficiency. This means we display more intelligence and more creativity. This is especially significant, since business success is often created by finding creative solutions to challenging problems.

Learn meditation from a qualified teacher and make it a part of your life. It will be the wisest investment that you will make.

Get the Full article which was in the magazine. Follow the link to get a digital copy of our magazine.

https://shop.businessboostertoday.com/product/bbt-2019-january-edition-v2-n1-digital/

Fear stops you from taking new actions, and without new actions, new results are sacrificed.

Fear comes, face it. Fearlessness follows!

Wisdom knows this – When you walk through Fear, you find Fearlessness!

When you become fearless, you become unstoppable!

Happiness, Success, Significance, and Legacy – these become your constant companions.

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#business #coaching #magazine #investment #article

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