#and then once you do die my deceased father will go beat your ass because if he was alive he wouldn’t fucking tolerate any of this shit

[roseofcards90]

This bitch really said he was going to be gone for a “long time” and then he went straight back home right after he cried at his mom’s place lmaooo

[tekka-dan]

I was informed of some disturbing news today regarding my best favorite boy Sasuke Uchiha and what his ultimate outcome will be in Borutrash.

Tumblr deleted my first initial rant, so I had to sit down and write it again. Not to fret though, re-writing has given me some clarity and all of you are going to witness my first hand unresolved, but subsiding, rage with the way Borutrash has handled Sasuke Uchiha’s character.

For anyone that’s new to my blog, content, posts: I am heavily against Boruto [as a character, manga, story, concept, anime] so if you’re a fan person of this series and you don’t like disputes or negative opinions your cue to dip is here.

You’ve been warned. Moving on.

Starting off, those of us who remember Sasuke Uchiha from the older days of Naruto [part 1] can easily summarize his character in one word: avenger. As the storyline progressed Sasuke became more than a so-called avenger and he started to gain some heavy handed, much needed, development. If you can recall that much, you would also recall that Sasuke was the “oppositional” character in the earlier days of Naruto. Meaning, Sasuke was the character that didn’t abide by rules, he did whatever he needed to advance but it was for his own sake and decision. He joined the academy to avenge his clan and become stronger to defeat his brother. When he meets Orochimaru that opportunity [to become stronger] arose and he took the bait (eventually—lets forget the part where he was kidnapped against his will, tortured and then kidnapped again).

So with all of that being addressed for his character, Sasuke choosing to follow under Orichimaru’s footsteps, this made Sasuke enter the “antagonistic” role. The reason this role was important for Sasuke [as a character] is because we are given context for his motives outside of the sunshine protagonist. Sasuke knew what his goals and ambitions were from the very beginning and also from the beginning he was being overshadowed by a bumbling fool that couldn’t even throw out milk on time. Sasuke didn’t have time for that, so he fucking bounced like the cool kid he absolutely was. Being on the “dark side” gave depth to this shallow story because once Itachi Uchiha made his appearance, and his role in the black ops and being a double agent was revealed — suddenly this sunshine village with its sunshine protagonist isn’t all sunshine.

Sasuke leaving the village was the best thing he ever did in this series and he is one of the four main characters that had a vision that he never got to achieve and questions he never got answers to. When Sasuke left the village, we are only in the mindset of him as a person and what he’s trying to achieve. We aren’t in Konoha village where the Will of Fire exists, where “I don’t believe in letting comrades die” comes into play — no, fuck all of that, we are simply inside Sasuke Uchiha’s mind and all Sasuke Uchiha thinks about is murdering Itachi for killing his clan and wanting to understand why Itachi would murder his clan in the first place. These are concerns far more prevalent than doing stupid ninja tasks or whatever the fuck Konoha participated in since all they seem to do is evoke war, genocide and havoc. Nothing seemingly important happened in this village up until Sasuke departed and suddenly everyone gives a fuck about saving the last Uchiha.

I seriously wonder what the Third Hokage was thinking. He (and Danzō) coaxed an actual child/teenager (Itachi) to slaughter his own clan in order to silence their people and then they are surprised when the surviving member of that clan flees the village.

Like Konoha is full of fucking dumbasses I swear. So that’s why I’m glad Sasuke did leave and it was eventually at his own free will. That also ties into my next point.

Sasuke represented oppression. His entire clan represented oppression. Them standing up against the Konoha System represented oppression. And it isn’t enough that every single member of them dies, it’s last member flees the village, and he goes on to save the same village that oppressed him to then become fodder and succumbing to pointless death in the continuation series?

Let me repeat that: Sasuke represented oppression. Now they are silencing him - and everyone that came before or after him - forever. Eternity. They expect Sarada to carry on the Uchiha genes but we aren’t remembering that she’s only half. We are forgetting that she [somehow] learned about the massacre from books in a library. She hasn’t learned anything from Sasuke or Sakura themselves. Why is that? Because they are trying to silence it forever.

This entire series feels like some massive “fuck you” propaganda because it doesn’t sit well to me. The character that represented oppression, stands up against the system as the last remaining member who can do so, he’s beat down without given a single answer to the questions he poses and then he’s forced to atone for sins he didn’t commit / shouldn’t be apologizing for to then go on to have an offspring he wasn’t ready for to then be killed off?

Is it not enough to just admit you wanted Sasuke Uchiha around for shipping bait and to ensure his uchiha bloodline succeeds him? Because that’s what it is.

They don’t give a single shit about his character and if Naruto didn’t spend 400 of 500+ episodes chasing him to reiterate Sasukes importance than guess where Sasuke would’ve died?

The same place Itachi would have.

Sasuke Uchiha and Itachi Uchiha would’ve both fought to the death, not a single brother would’ve walked away from that. And you know what? This would’ve been an honor to him as a person and as a character. Because up until he faces Itachi his only goal was to defeat his brother and learn why he did what he did. Itachi told him (albeit on his death bed) but I assure you they would’ve wrapped Sasuke Uchiha’s character up then and there and let him perish along with Itachi.

But they didn’t. Why? Because they needed Naruto to beat him into submission. They needed Naruto to remind the audience why Sasuke was considered an antagonist and why leaving the village is forbidden. They needed Naruto to brag about becoming hokage to preach about saving everyone, except the “everyone” excludes every single slaughtered and slain / deceased member of the Uchiha Clan, you know, the only people that ever truly mattered to Sasuke. Nah but it’s alright, sunshine protagonist Naruto needs Sasuke around to remind Sasuke that “he knows how he feels” and “believing in his word can make everything better”.

What makes matters worse about them killing Sasuke who represented oppression after they killed and degraded his character is that other characters who opposed the system were killed off long before their characters could be succeeded or milked.

Example 1: Yahiko / Pein.

Everyone knows what became of Pein and everyone is aware of the Yahiko that existed before the Pein. Everyone knows that Yahiko was the Naruto of his village, wanting to make a difference and have the world be a better place. Except, when the poor young sap tried to achieve this goal, he was killed tragically during an incident that was incredible miscommunication. Dying at the hands of his friend is what was supposed to make that moment less painful but it only sparked the rage in what became the Pein we all knew that destroyed Konoha.

Pein / Yahiko was the embodiment of oppression.

Everyone knows how that played out, I don’t need to repeat the entire chapter and how the questions Pein asked Naruto were never answered, rather he was given a mediocre bullshit half ass speech that made him surrender and sacrifice himself.

Example 2: Neji Hyuuga

Before Naruto’s dreams were drilled over and over into our heads, there was Neji who represented oppression in a literal sense, preaching it to his cousin during their battle and then to Naruto during theirs.

When Neji was killed off, people were upset because his character died for nothing without atoning for a single damn thing. Neji was born a slave and died a slave and we are supposed to believe (and be happy) that during death he was free.

Is this what people expect for these characters? That only in death can they find peace, freedom or happiness? What a pathetic and crippling message that presents.

You see the picture I am painting here? It’s not looking too good, is it? There’s a fucking pattern to it, that’s why. The only difference with Sasuke Uchiha is that his bloodline was extinct so they needed someone to carry it on. Pein (who was Nagato) is an Uzumaki so his bloodline continued. Neji is a Hyuuga and his bloodline continued. Sasuke is the only one who hadn’t and they couldn’t do away with his character until they had a certain someone he could procreate with, regardless if they had a lick of chemistry.

I’m not saying you can’t kill off characters from stories, sometimes characters do need to die, eventually they will anyway. However there are better ways to kill your characters and writing stories that don’t disregard their pasts or completely ravage their futures.

Sasuke’s entire history is being erased and everyone else who represents the same thing were also erased.

When Hinata speaks about Neji (if she does?) does she talk about the hierarchy and what it did to him and his father to her kids? No, because they want to forget about it, they are ashamed of it so they hide these facts.

When Naruto speaks to Boruto (if he does?) does he mention Nagato or even Jiraiya? Does he talk about his former sensei enduring a war, taking on an orphaned group of three and then having to return to their village being slain? Does he talk about the brutal systems the other villages carry on? Again, no. Because these are things they are ashamed of, they want to never have be mentioned or brought up again.

Those who don’t know their history are bound to repeat it, as the old saying goes.

What makes this worse for Sasukes character after death is that his reunion with his “family” feels cheap and downplayed. The only character trait they knew how to write for his character is to be distant and/or absent. Because of that Sasuke never “grew” on Sarada. I think that’s unfair as fuck to do to him, they already robbed him of everything else and even prior to death he can’t just simply be a fucking father.

How goddamn sad is that?

I gritted my teeth at Sasukes end in Naruto 699 but hearing the news about the current predictions / fate of his character has left me with unresolved despise for this series all over again.

It’s not enough that they keep taking everything from him, now he gets to die the same way he feels: empty..

First they killed his dream, then they killed his spirit and now they are killing his character.

[goforwardgreenwriter-blog]

The Worm Reads: The Assassin’s Blade, Ch 19-20

SJM either cuts one measly scene into three chapters or crams 100+ long scenes into on chapter so this one is gonna be super fucking long

Celaena dressed in the nicest tunic she’d brought—which wasn’t really anything to admire, but the midnight blue and gold did bring out the turquoise hues in her eyes.

SJM gotta stop bringing attention to Celery’s Mary Sue eyes because I laugh every time I think about them.

Ansel takes Celery to dinner.

Staying alert as they entered the hall was an effort of will. Yet even with her exhaustion, she instinctively scanned the room. There were three exits—the giant doors through which they entered, and two servants’ doors on either end. The hall was packed wall-to-wall with long wooden tables and benches full of people. At least seventy of them in total. None of them looked at Celaena as Ansel ambled toward a table near the front of the room. If they knew who she was, they certainly didn’t care. She tried not to scowl.

This paragraph right here. This sums up everything wrong with this book.

At first while I was reading this, I was like “Yes finally!! Celery is acting like an assassin! It took us two short stories to get here, but we finally did!” And then SJM immediately ruins it by having Celery cry and wail about nobody giving her special attention.

Boo fucking hoo! You’re an assassin, you’re not supposed to stand out, you fucking spoiled asshole!! This character is utter garbage and I hate her so much, this is actually making me enjoy the ending of E0S where she gets the shit kicked out of her and shoved into an iron coffin. Fuck her. Fuck this book.

Ansel mentions some Lord Berick guy, who Celery has never heard of before.

“He’s the villain,” said a curly-haired, dark-eyed man across from Ansel. He was handsome in a way, but had a smile far too much like Captain Rolfe’s for Celaena’s liking. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-five.

Nuance who?

Ansel blathers on about Lord Berick and how he’s the most Evil Guy Ever who wants this part of the desert or some shit. No doubt Celery will beat him in one paragraph if they meet, so who really cares.

Outside of the markets in Rifthold (...) she’d never seen such a mix of different kingdoms and continents. And though most of the people here were trained killers, there was an air of peace and contentment—of joy, even.

This place is way tf better than Arobynn’s shitty assassin joint. Please let us stay here?

Vows of silence, Ansel had explained earlier, were taken for as long as each person saw fit. Some spent weeks in silence; others, years. Ansel claimed she’d once sworn to be silent for a month, and had only lasted two days before she gave up. She liked talking too much. Celaena didn’t have any trouble believing that.

That is quite fucking rich coming from you, Celery.

Celaena felt someone’s attention on her, and tried not to blink when she noticed a dark-haired, handsome young man watching her from a few seats down. Stealing glances at her was more like it, since his sea-green eyes kept darting to her face, then back to his companions.

oh no

Their eyes met, and his tan face spread into a smile, revealing dazzlingly white teeth. Well, he was certainly desirable—as desirable as Sam, maybe.

oh god no why this

SJM has basically skipped out on love triangles (Dorito never had a chance in T0G and Tamlin never had a chance in AC0TAR, and you all know it) but nope, she just had to hit all of the shitty YA tropes. Fucking great. Poor Ilias is probably gonna be put down so Celery can realize Sammy is her one true love.

“I’m surprised you caught Ilias’s eye,” Ansel teased, keeping her voice low enough for only Celaena and Mikhail to hear. “He’s usually too focused on his training and meditating to notice anyone—even pretty girls.” (...) “I’ve known him for years, and he’s never been anything but aloof with me,” Ansel continued. “But maybe he has a thing for blondes.” Mikhail snorted.

Holy shit, is this... self awareness? I mean, both the protagonists of SJM’s big ticket series are skinny blonde white girls who have men drooling left and right for them. I bet that new Creamcheese City novel will also feature a blonde “””strong female character””” as the lead.

Celaena pushed around the food on her plate. It wasn’t that she wasn’t romantic. She’d been infatuated with a few men before—from Archer, the young male courtesan who’d trained with them for a few months when she was thirteen, to Ben, Arobynn’s now-deceased Second, back when she was too young to really understand the impossibility of such a thing.

Dude he’s like a fucking adult and she’s barely 16. Get this nasty shit outta my face. So Celery rescued Ben’s body not because he was a good guy, but because she used to have the hots for him?? This is actually gross.

Mikhail asks why Celery’s master beat the shit out of her, and she kisses her own ass for a moment or two while telling the story of freeing the slaves.

“But if the two hundred slaves that I freed are telling the story, then no, I suppose I didn’t deserve it.” None of them were smiling anymore. “Holy gods,” Ansel whispered. True silence fell over their table for a few heartbeats.

HFAKHDKAHDKAHDS I AM GOING TO LOSE MY SHIT

STOP!! MAKING!! EVERYONE!! SPLOOGE!! OVER!! CELERY!! IM SICK OF READING IT GET IT OUT OF MY FACE

The next day (I think?), Ansel takes Celery out to do some running and Celery is pissy that she isn’t immediately getting special attention from the Mute Master. Good to see Celery will never change in her selfish, whiny ways.

Celery fucking sucks at the run to the oasis and everyone continues to lap her.

A small oasis, mostly a ring of trees and a giant pool fed by a shimmering stream, was barely an eighth of a mile away. She was Adarlan’s Assassin—at least she’d made it here.

Stop reminding me she’s Adaran’s Assassin, I fucking know. Remember how I said at the beginning that Celery doesn’t splooge over herself as much as Alien does? Yeah I take it back, Celery is even more obnoxious.

Later on Ansel tries to stroke Celery’s fragile precious little ego by saying she did worse on her first run.

“My first run, I collapsed. Mile two. Completely unconscious. Ilias found me on his way back and carried me here. In his arms and everything.” Ilias’s eyes met with Celaena’s, and he smiled at her. “If I hadn’t been about to die, I would have been swooning,”

No Ilias/Ansel/Celery love triangle, please.

Celaena blushed, suddenly too aware of Ilias’s attention, and took a sip from her cup of lemon water. As the meal wore on, her blush remained as Ilias continued flicking his eyes toward her. She tried not to preen too much. But then she remembered how miserably she’d performed today— how she hadn’t even gotten a chance to train—and the swagger died a bit.

Celaena made her best attempt to look casual as she, too, stood and bid everyone good night. As she turned away, she noticed that Mikhail took Ansel’s hand and held it in the shadows beneath the table.

Apparently Ansel and Mikhail are a thing? I literally don’t care. Mikhail has said like what, five words this entire story? They’re literally just together because SJM can’t stand the idea of having any single characters (unless they’re evil).

Celery chases down The Master to demand her special snowflake treatment.

The Master paused, his white clothes rustling around him. He offered her a little smile. Up close, she could certainly see his resemblance to his son. There was a pale line around one of his fingers— perhaps where a wedding ring had once been. Who was Ilias’s mother? Of course, it wasn’t at all the time for questions like that.

Yeah, no shit Celery. Why are you such an idiot?

The Mute Master is like “wait your turn” and leaves. Ilias shows up for shipping fuel I guess?

“I have no plans to hurt him,” she said softly. But Ilias gave her a half smile, his brows rising as if to ask if she could blame him for being protective of his father.

Maybe I’m a softie, but this endeared me to him somewhat. He seems like a nice guy, which is more than what you get with 95% if SJM’s male characters. How come all of Celery’s love interests Rowboat who are waaay better characters than her?

His eyes were vivid in the torchlight, his hand firm and warm around hers. She let go of his fingers. The son of the Mute Master and the protégée of the King of the Assassins. If there was anyone here who was at all similar to her, she realized, it was Ilias. Rifthold might be her realm, but this was his.

Human brain: don’t get attached, Celery is an asshole

Monkey brain: hhhhhh parallels between partners in a ship...love....

Not that Ilias and Celery are/will be a thing, but you know. I’m a sucker for shit like this.

Ilias suddenly began making a series of motions with his long, tan fingers, but Celaena laughed softly. “I have no idea what you’re trying to say.” Ilias looked skyward and sighed through his nose. Throwing his hands in the air in mock defeat, he merely patted her on the shoulder before passing by

Ilias is a good, pure boy. I’d read a story where Sammy goes to the desert instead of Celery and him and Ilias fall in love and hold hands under the shade of the desert night. Hngh, I really wish I could be reading that fanfic instead of this novel.

As she walked back to her room, Celaena had a horrible feeling that here, being Adarlan’s Assassin might not count for much.

Celery says this like we’re supposed to feel sorry for her, but back in Arobynn;s Assassin joint she flaunts her title around and rubs it in everyone’s face so yeah, you don’t get sympathy from me.

“How long have you been seeing him?” Ansel was silent for a long moment before answering. “Since I was fifteen.” Fifteen! Mikhail was in his midtwenties, so even if this had started almost three years ago, he still would have been far older than Ansel. It made her a little queasy.

Oh. My. God.

See, I personally don’t like huge age gapes in ships (that’s just my personal preference, don’t fucking @ me) but Celery you literally said earlier you were in love with Ben, a fucking grown man, when you were a young teenager you fucking hypocrite!!!!!!!! God I fucking hate Celery!!!!!!!

With nothing else to distract her, Celaena eventually returned to thinking about Sam. Even weeks later, she had no idea how she’d somehow gotten attached to him, what he’d been shouting when Arobynn beat her, and why Arobynn had thought he’d need three seasoned assassins to restrain him that day.

Pretty simple answers. You got attached to Sammy because a) SJM wanted you to so she forced you to start thirsting for him, and b) you realized “oh hey Sammy is a good guy maybe I shouldn’t imagine myself slitting his throat”. What Sammy was shouting will be revealed later to my knowledge, and as for the 3 assassins thing... idk, tbh. I mean, Sammy is just a teenager boy, one big buff assassin should be enough to restrain him.

This chapter finally ends thank fucking god. We still have one more to go for today.

[Celaena] did run farther the next day. And the day after that, and the one following that. But it still took her so long to get back that she didn’t have time to seek out the Master. Not that she could. He’d send for her. Like a lackey.

Stop trying to make me feel bad for Celery being ignored if she’s just gonna splooge about how ~special and uhmayzing~ she is.

Like the assassins in Adarlan, the Silent Assassins weren’t known for any skill in particular—save the uncannily quiet way they moved.

That seems kinda odd. Assassins should be talented at many ways of disposing of people yeah, but wouldn’t it make more sense for some of them to have a knack for a certain type of killing, such as using poisons?

Still, even as [the assassins] corrected her posture and showed her new ways to control her breathing, she tried her best not to snarl at them. She knew plenty—she wasn’t Adarlan’s Assassin for nothing.

If I have to read that fucking sentence one more time I am ripping this book in half. No joke, I am a hair’s length away from not finishing this fucking book. Even E0S never got me to want to throw  the towel in completely and quit like this.

Perhaps if she demonstrated that she was skilled enough in these practices, the Master might take notice of her. She’d get that letter. Even if she had to hold a dagger to his throat while he wrote it.

Wow, asshole! You have to put in the tiniest amount of effort to learn and talk to people and you’re already resorting to violence??? You really are a weak and stupid protagonist and I hate you with every fiber of my being.

The attack by Lord Berick happened on her fifth night.

This made me sit up in my seat, to be honest. We finally get.... plot? Promises of action? Assassins versus assassins? Holy shit, I’m hype!

Apparently the attack happens oh so conveniently when the Mute Master and a bunch of assassins are away on a mission. Celery acknowledges this as extremely convenient, which leads me to believe there may be a rat in the assassin fortress. If not, then this is laughably stupid and convenient.

“We’re not going to kill [the soldiers]?” Celaena whispered back. (...) Ansel shook her head, watching Ilias down the line. “No, though I wish we could.” Celaena didn’t particularly care for the casual way she said it

Why would that fucking bother you?? Don’t act all high and mighty asshole, you’re an assassin the same as her. You both kill people for a living. Jesus fucking christ.

They all fire some burning arrows at an oil ridge in the sand or something which scares off Lord Berick’s goons. The scene ends.

I’m not even joking, this entire scene takes up a page and a tiny paragraph of another. I... I’m fucking speechless. You promise us an action scene and you give us this shitty, glossed over pile of garbage that serves no point? No named characters were even injured!!!!!! Holy fucking shit, SJM, you are a terrible terrible terrible writer! Please fucking stop, I can’t handle any more of these dumpster fires of novels.

The next day Mikail tells Ansel she has orders to go to Xandria, and she invites Celery to go along with, I assume Xandria is a place.....? This chapter ends. I am going to drown myself in chocolate chip cookies to heal.

[its-furiohsa-not-furiosah]

DnD Character Ramblings - Background

(Long-ass Info dump ahead! Writing this on mobile and no 'keep on reading' option, sorry!)

----

Name: M

Race: Aasimar, Protector (currently unknown to M in the campaign until my DM decides to reveal that in the story)

Class: Wizard, School of Abjuration, Level 6

Age: Early 30s when campaign starts

Alignment: Neutral Good

Appearance:

- approx. 6' 3", lanky but athletic build

- gender fluid in appearance; cannot fully distinguish whether M is male or female; can play up either in a given situation.

- medium length metallic black wavy hair, right side often braided above the ear.

- right eye is brown/black, left eye is light blue; dark circles under eyes from studying and restless nights of bad dreams

- wears a once fine and tailored, but now torn at some seams, all black travelers clothes with a lining of red inside the jacket.

- wears their father's diamond stud earring in right ear (used for their Chromatic Orb spell), and a larger dangly earing on the left ear.

----

M grew up along the northwestern coast of Faerun in the large port city of Waterdeep. Their parent's talent in business had risen them to a place of wealth and influence within the oligarchal soceity. Overall, M and their identical twin (who we shall refer to as H) lived a privileged and happy, albeit isolated, childhood.

M and H were exceptionally close; kept away from the lower status children, they were often each other's only source of company. When their parents would be throwing a gala late into the night for their business partners, the pair would sit on the library balcony, looking out over the water, read poetry and share stories.

At the age of 16, a horrific accident claimed H's life. The shaking of shoulders and their father's sullen voice breaking the news was the last thing M remebered before the wave of falling emptiness swallowed them in grief. Time was blurred and life was dim for M over the following months. It was however, in these dark times, that M began to see the spirits of the dead...

Initially chilled and frightened at this sudden revelation, M found new company in the ghosts of those long past who, too, were lonely and searching for a resolution. A few weeks passed of this and M decided to confide in their parents about this newfound ability.

Concerned that M's parents would be repulsed at hearing this, their fears were quelled when their parents were instead...thrilled at the news. They immediately pulled their influential strings to acquire an apprenticeship for M at the prestigious arcane academy in Waterdeep, The Blackstaff Tower.

The day M turned 18, their parents packed M's things in the family carriage and sent them to study magic at the Tower. "Make us proud" they said, waving the carriage away. For the next 4 years, the stone walls of the Blackstaff Tower was their home.

The solitude and quiet diligence of arcane study at the Tower was something M found to be helpful in recovering from their grief. After their first year, they became drawn to and ultimately specialized in abjuration magic (protection spells, magical wards, defenses against other magic, etc).

The 4 years of their studies at the Blackstaff Tower were coming to an end, and M had grown particular close with the head mage (no name yet DX ), we'll refer to them as the Blackstaff. One night before graduation, M and the Blackstaff were sharing a celebratory drink and got to talking. The Blackstaff looked anxious and distant, the look of deep thought and worry on their face. M asked what was wrong and the Blackstaffs gaze broke back to reality: "I--I need to confide in you about something, M" A little surpised at seeing the usually composed Blackstaff this way, M quietly nodded and responded "Go ahead, in confidence"

The Blackstaff quietly began to tell M that they were almost not admitted into the academy for study. When M asked why, because there wasn't much barring anyone from attending, the Blackstaff paused. "What I am about to tell you, I say with the desire to help you, child...'

'Prior to your parent's rather adamantly submitting your name for admission, the circle of mages at the Tower strongly suspected your parent's of using dark, evil magic to rise to power within Waterdeep"

M sat stone still and put down their drink...heart beating in their ears.

The Blackstaff kept going, "One of our own connections within the business world of the city informed us of a dark ritual that was rumored to take place at their residence one night. We managed to scry our way to get a view of this...and our suspicions were confirmed." The Blackstaff paused and took a large sip of their drink before putting it down and reluctantly continued:

"They had used evil magic to maniuplate your mind, M, and then made you murder your twin, H; your parent's goal being that the sacrifice of one of their children would trigger a series of events that would cause the end of the world, you being the catalyst for that change. They then altered your memory with that same magic to make you forget, waiting and hoping their plan had worked. That is why they were excited to hear about your ability to see the dead...that is why they adamantly sent you here to study magic, M. M?"

Frozen. Empty and falling into cold unforgiving darkness. Memories swirling to the surface...M sat motionless for a moment, gripping the arm rests, before breaking the silence. "You didn't answer my question Blackstaff...why did you accept me to the academy? Why, if you knew this?" The Blackstaff could see M's fingernails digging into the wood of the armrest and the watery reflection of tears in their eyes, then answered "We didn't want to accept you, especially after learning that...but there were some in the circle--some that believed we could help you and change that dark destiny towards good...and thats what we ended up doing. Look at all the good you've been doing here M! Whatever your parents had plan--"

The Blackstaff was interrupted when M hastily got to their feet and stormed out of the room. The Blackstaff followed and pleaded for M to stop but M had put up a ward on themselves that kept any sound reaching them. Racing waves of thoughts of betrayal, hatred, and despair consuming M's thoughts. M packed their things and left the Tower that night, disgusted and disillusioned in their parents, and themselves.

Before leaving town, M snuck back to and broke into their home along the coast of Waterdeep. They had not been here since the day 4 years ago their parents had shipped them off to become...to become some evil puppet for their sick plan. Not surprisingly, their parents were throwing another of their extravagant business galas. M wondered how many of those nights sitting on the balcony had their parents been committing dark acts of magic downstairs...

They crept into the massive study their father kept his best books and most expensive/important things. The only things M took from that life were a large diamond earring of their father's, a leather envelope of cash, and the book of poetry M and H would read together.

It was off into the night...and shit, M had never really been able to explore the city but needed to make it to the next boat out of here. Suddenly though, M felt a nearby spirit pull them towards a direction that ended at the docks of the port.

Using the cash stolen from their father's study, M booked passge on the next boat out of Waterdeep, heading south. During the 3 weeks of travel, M was frequently sick and sought reprieve on the open deck at night, looking out at the moonlit water.

However, one night M swore that out of the corner of their eye, their reflection in the water moved independently from themselves. When M turned to see this, the reflection's eyes in the water captured M's gaze and held it for what seemed like forever. Time stopped and it felt like something was staring at M through the water's depth...only to be broken by the sound of the bell being rung to indicate the changing of the ship's post.

Similar instances in mirrors, pints of ale/water or other reflective surfaces continued for the duration of the voyage. Over time, M became progressively more and more paranoid that whatever this reflection was, their parents learned of them fleeing The Blackstaff Tower and were somehow tracking M's whereabouts.

The ship finally made it to port and M begins a life of running. For the next 8 years, M struggles to learn how to survive and keep low, always looking over their shoulder worried their parents will find them. They become increasingly haunted by their own dreams where their reflection is looking at, and sometimes speaking to them.

They develop a companionship with a magical familiar in the form of a white-necked Raven, lovingly called Bishop. Bishop is there to comfort M when the paranoia gets too strong, or when hunger, resentment, and guilt sink in.

Even though those 8 years in solitude weren't easy, they were not suffered in vain. M increased their prowess in abjuration and other arcane studies. Resolute in proving their parent's plan for them wrong and using their talents and abilities to do good, M becomes what you could call a freelance exorcist.

Two years into the freelance exorcism business, and business is slow, just barely making ends meet. Quietly drinking their stress away at the tavern, they strike up a conversation with a rather peculiar dwarven bard named, Kunesh. They drunkenly get talking and sharing about their current sturggles to make it in life, on one hand a rather odd and strange looking freelance exorcism and on the other a beardless lute-playing dwarf. A deal is made that they'll split the profits they make if Kunesh can advertize the business.

Later, on a job with 2 quarreling nobles where M was needed to investigate a murder and question the ghosts of the deceased, the two learn of a phenomenon called The Death Curse spreading across Faerun. The details of this curse are particulary troubling for their business as 1) those who die cannot be resurrected through any means and 2) the spirits of the dead are swalled and trapped in another plane of existence.

With word of fame and fortune for those who can undo the curse, M and Kunesh make their way to the continent of Chult, searching for the ancient city of Omu that is most likely the epicenter of the curse. It is here that they run into the main party of the campaign who are also searching for a way to fix the curse.

----

Thank you for reading!

[robininthelabyrinth]

Countless Roads - Chapter 4

Fic: Countless Roads - Chapter 4 - Ao3

Fandom: Flash, Legends Pairing: Gen, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, others

Summary: Due to a family curse (which some call a gift), Leonard Snart has more life than he knows what to do with – and that gives him the ability to see, speak to, and even share with the various ghosts that are always surrounding him.

Sure, said curse also means he’s going to die sooner rather than later, just like his mother, but in the meantime Len has no intention of letting superheroes, time travelers, a surprisingly charming pyromaniac, and a lot of ghosts get in the way of him having a nice, successful career as a professional thief.

A/N: This is a new chapter (chapter 5 on Ao3) 

———————————————————————————-

The first time it happens, it's – kind of funny, actually. In retrospect, anyway.

"Don't you dare touch him," Mick growls from where he's standing by the door, glaring at where they’ve got Len all tied up. They being some Santini Family assholes who hired Len and Mick for a small job - nothing big, the main guy said, just need it done quick, don't want to get the Family name involved - and then decided they didn't feel like paying some freelancers for work they apparently should've been doing themselves. Sadly for them, Len's just smart enough not to have brought the goods with him and had no intention of giving said goods up until they coughed up the cash for them.

Damnit, Len hates Family jobs. They shouldn't have taken it, he knows that, but it'd been such an easy job...

"And what exactly are you planning to do about it?" the main Santini asshole drawls, smug and confident now that he's got his people with him.

"You'll touch him over my dead body," Mick says.

"Fine," the mobster sneers, and shoots Mick dead in the chest, the force of it making Mick stagger backwards and fall down to the floor.

"You fucking little – " Len shouts from the chair he's been tied to, eyes wide with terror, worried half to hell because he has no idea what happens when you make a ghost as solid and real as he's made Mick and then that stupid ghost goes and gets himself shot.

"Enough!" Santini snaps. "Or you're going to get a bullet yourself, Mr. Snart – "

"I told you," Mick rasps, and the entire room turns to look to see him standing back up. Mick makes a big production out of it, too, dragging his limbs up like he's in pain, like his joints are creaking, clutching at his chest, but he gets up, eyes fixed on Santini. "You'll touch him over my – dead – body –"

Santini shoots, but Mick takes a step forward. Another shot, another step.

The third bullet clicks to an empty chamber, and Santini just breaks, turning tail and running, each and every one of his men with him.

"You okay?" Len asks the second the last one is gone. He knows ghosts don’t feel things the way the living do, but he’s given Mick a lot of life over the years…

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure, I’m good. Stings like a Lisa special, nothing worse than that."

Lisa had once expressed her frustration with Mick by squeezing a lemon at him when he'd just cut his hand open in the kitchen and had been bleeding a little - more out of habit than anything else. Mick is never going to let her live it down.

"But you're okay?"

"All good, boss."

Len shakes his head, starting to grin. "Well," he says, biting his lips to keep from laughing. "Guess now they know you meant it about it being over your dead body."

Mick snorts.

The next time, they try shooting Mick in the head.

Of course, that doesn't work either - Mick confirms that lots of life or not, dead men don't feel pain the same way the living do, so it's all the same to him - but it does bring up some logistical issues.

Mick wisely plays dead until Len gets them to go away, because there's reputation and then there's revelation, and the whole gang that tried it unanimously flip their lids in a most satisfying way the next time Len walks in, Mick trailing behind him, same as always, and both of them playing dumb as rocks about the whole alleged – it's their new favorite word after a stint in prison and the justice system - the whole alleged murder thing.

Len's gotten Mick some damn fine fake papers, too, so the Fed threw them into the same prison, too. It was a learning experience.

Not one Len's all too eager to repeat. Mick got into fight after fight on Len's behalf, even with Len felling a few overly touchy guys personally. Next time, he's going to send Mick floating out the wall and get a quicker exit that way.

Mick's quasi-solid virtually all the time now, which Len likes. People think he's a living person, which in fairness is probably why they try to kill him.

Len's pretty sure he's doing the ghost thing wrong, that he's not supposed to give a ghost another life like this, a life made out of his own life, but he figures if he really wasn't supposed to do this, he wouldn't be able to use his feelings about Mick for the extra boost he needs to keep him solid so often.

Love really is the most powerful force. Who woulda thought it?

Other than literally the entire literary world, anyway.

Len still doesn't like it when Mick 'dies', though, whether the cause is an angry mobster or a hail of police bullets, so he starts doubling down on his plans, working on them all day and night so that they don't go wrong and Mick isn't called upon to protect him.

"You know it doesn't hurt me, right? Not really?" Mick asks from the poker game he's set up with a handful of friendlies: the nun who's waiting to see her last student graduate, the thirteen year old who died in a car accident on the way to hear his favorite band, the prostitute that got killed by a serial killer (Len's working on IDing the bastard in his spare time), and a grandmother with wicked children who wouldn't let her see her grandkids.

Grandmother or not, Sun-hui is kicking everyone's asses as usual. Tyrice is staring at her with an expression of awe – Len's got the feeling that the kid's going to be moving on pretty soon if he can convince Sun-hui to attend that concert with him.

(Len underestimates exactly zero of his friendlies - sure, they protect him from the unquiet dead, but Tyrice has a tendency to cause accidents on the street corner where he'd died and Sister Bea has a way of guarding her church schoolkids from trouble that includes nearly giving them heart attacks when they start to do something she considers stupid.)

"I know it don't hurt you," Len replies, not for the first time. "Makes me all queasy, though."

"Awwwww," Daniela says. “You’re such adorable snugglekins.”

"Shut up."

"Find the guy that beat my face in, and I will."

"I'm working on it!"

"Len – " Mick starts.

"Mick, if it makes you feel better, you can think about it as me not wanting to go back to jail, okay? If no one catches us, there's no problem."

"Fine, fine."

"Your plans are getting much better," Sun-hui says approvingly. "You leave very little trail behind you, like a ghost."

"Aw, thanks," Len says, grinning at her. He would never have understood Sun-hui in life, due to the language barrier that vexed her, but the dead all speak the same language.

He's not entire sure what language that is – he's pretty sure it ain't actually English – but that's what he knows, so he hears it in that, or else he just understands it regardless. Len vaguely recalls his mom saying something about how the curse of Babel didn’t apply to the dead, but the specific mechanics aren’t really that interesting to him – they can talk, he can listen, that’s all that matters.

“Plus your plans got much better since your old man got sent away,” Tyrice says, kicking his heels. He’s pretty short. Maybe he regrets not getting tall? Len should offer him some help with that. “Good-for-nothing dickwad.”

“Well, yeah,” Len says, because it’s not untrue. He’d resisted getting rid of his father at first, either by making a heist go wrong or via Mick’s preferred method of just up and torching the fucker, but that'd been because of Lisa, who needed to stay in a good school for her skating and grades. Once his dad fucked up her ankle right before a big skating competition because he needed spare cash, Len saw red.

He’d been able to sweet-talk the old lady down the street into signing up for fostering and then agreeing to take in Lisa for the remainder of her schooling once Lewis was on his way to prison for a good long time.

Having said old lady’s husband around – and said old lady being a devout spiritualist, or whatever the hell you call people that pay fake mediums too much money, much to her deceased husband’s concern – had really helped.

Besides, if her boo-boo told her the money was better used on taking care of Lisa than on all those mediums, who was she to object?

(Boo-boo. Really. Len is so glad he and Mick aren’t over-the-top smoochy like that.)

All things considered, it worked pretty well.

His remaining concerns about leaving Lisa with the old lady were misplaced: Mrs. Crabtree was officially Lisa’s favorite person ever, being a proper old grandma type, and Lisa chased the fake mediums who sought Mrs. Crabtree out for an easy mark away with a baseball bat, which in turn meant Mr. Crabtree felt comfortable moving on, which made everybody happy.

But since that skating scholarship didn’t look like it was going anywhere anymore, not since Lewis, that still left the question of somehow paying for Lisa’s continued schooling. It turned out high school was fine and all, being public, but college? College is an expensive pain in Len's ass, but he was determined that Lisa would go. Mrs. Crabtree certainly couldn’t help pay for it, living off her pension as she did, and neither Len nor Lisa would ever ask for her to. Now that Len knew that Lisa was somewhere safe, though, he could devote himself to dealing with that little problem.

With his dad gone, Len could recruit his own crew and hunt up some game of his own, and what glorious game it was: high end jewelry transports, art museums with shitty security, history museums with even shittier guards, fashion designer outlets where they carted away bags of dresses, much to the complaints of his crew until they found out they could sell that shit to a copy-cat place for very near the price of gold…

Okay, sure, it didn't work perfectly all the time – he spent a good few of Lisa's teenage years in prison – but after he got out again, he went right back at it, saving up the money for Lisa’s college and grad school and whatever else she wants in life. Two solid years of it, travelling the world, and it was fun and all, but Len’s not going to lie, he’s damn happy it’s over. Now that he’s had time to try all the different variations, he definitely prefers taking his time and planning out the perfect heist instead of doing them all rapid-fire like he has been.

Not to mention, now that the heat’s passed in Central and they’re mostly looking for him in Europe and the coast cities instead, it means that he gets to come home and settle down, and best of all that he’ll get to see Lisa again regularly instead of just talking to her on the phone like it’s been the last two years.

Lisa is twenty now – starting a bit later than the rest, yes, but money takes time and she's not so far behind that people would really notice. College freshman, thanks to the fudging of her high school record that he paid for to make sure she got to go anywhere she wanted, though she still picked Central City Uni so that she could live in her own apartment but still come back to Mrs. Crabtree’s for her laundry and to hang out, apparently.

College.

Lisa.

Man.

Len doesn’t even know what to do with that.

Like, he's been dreaming of it and planning it and counting on it, but now that she's actually enrolled, it's all weird.

He hasn’t been much of a brother these last few years, he feels – he’d been in and out of prison until she was seventeen, and he’d spent her last three birthdays out raising money for her. Len took care of Lisa as long as he could, and when he realized he couldn’t, he got her where she needed to be, but it’s not the same as really being there, even though Lisa assures him that between the near-daily phone calls and the week-long visits he tried to arrange at least once every three months, she never felt like he was too far away.

Still not the same, and he’s gotta admit, he’s feeling a bit insecure about it. Which, he suspects, leads to his current overreaction now that she’s coming to crash with him for her very first spring break.

Len spends a whole week cleaning up the place he’d acquired in anticipation of Lisa's arrival, and he never cleans.

"Why are you so worried?" Sun-hui asks, even as she supervises his (deplorable) cleaning attempts. "Your sister loves you, and will be happy anywhere."

"She's a college student now," Len says, focusing on his scrubbing. "I don't know, there's a difference."

"Nah, man," Tryice says. He’d finally gotten his concert, but he’d decided to wait on Sun-hui reaching her own goals before agreeing to pass on. "Still your sister. My big bro went to college, but he was still the same coming back." He pauses. "Smoked more pot, though."

Len gives Tyrice a dirty look, then sighs. "Well, s'long as it's just pot, we'll be fine."

"Yeah, crack's the bad stuff," Tyrice says all too wisely.

"Pssh, heroin. Now that's a college kid killer – and I should know," Julie says. She's new - died of an OD before flying home for Christmas, now waiting for next Christmas to go back and say goodbye to everyone, and she’s become best buds with Daniela, which is good since Sister Bea has finally moved on by now.

Kiki, another new one, a soft-spoken too-late-regretted suicide, nods in agreement.

“Very bad,” she says solemnly. Nora – a sad-looking woman in her late thirties who’d gotten stabbed in the chest and never saw her beloved eleven-year-old grow up – covers her mouth to hide a smile at Len’s expression.

"Well, I think meth – " Daniela starts.

"Will you all stop talking about drugs!" Len finally yells. "Lisa's not on any! So shut up!"

They all smirk at him, but fall silent. They usually listen to him, Len's found, especially when he means it. He's not sure if it's because they all want something from him or because he actually has some power over them, but he's been trying not to think about it too hard.

He's not a necromancer, damnit. His job is to help fix the world by doing his own special part of the spiritual cycle of life, just like the bacteria that eat the body of the dead, except he helps clean up the ghostly realms instead of the forest.

Julie thinks the metaphor is awful, and Nora agrees. Mick kind of likes it, though.

Speaking of Mick, he's been too quiet.

"Mick?" Len calls, but no, nothing. "Go check if something's on fire," he tells the ghosts, shaking his head.

"Nothing's on fire," Mick grumbles, walking through the door to the kitchen. The open door, for once; he’s getting better at pretending to be living on instinct. "I went grocery shopping and didn't want to holler back from the porch."

"Groceries?"

"If we're gonna impress your sister like you so obviously want to, we're gonna need some food,” Mick says like it’s obvious. “College students eat like pigs when the food’s free.”

Len sighs and looks down at the half-scrubbed floor. "I'm not gonna impress her either way," he says. "I'm a high school dropout with a criminal record – "

"Who raised her from childhood," Mick says skeptically. "Who got that criminal record paying for her schooling. Who got your dad put away on charges of theft and murder that'll keep him there for a few years at least, so that he won't find you guys when he gets out. Nah, nothing impressive there at all."

"But – "

"Lenny. It'll be fine. Relax."

[secretanimelover]

Hwarang rewrite Chapter 1

If you have any questions or critiques let me know! Also warning this is long like around 8,000 words or so. I’ve posted to livejournal too if you would like to read it there.

http://secretanimelove.livejournal.com/937.html

A young man with an unimpressed look on his handsome face stands in the path of three other men. His long hair is windblown and kept out of his eyes by a strip of clothe tied around his head. His clothes are worn and plain looking but are not nearly in as rough a state as the men who are poorly trying to intimidate him.

“It’s bribing day which means I’m busy, can’t you just leave?” he sighs.

“we both know there can’t be two leaders in one village,” The leader of the three taunts while combing his obnoxious pointed hair. His spiky headed lackeys nod and snicker in agreement. The boy huffs out a breath in annoyance.

“Fine you’re the head” he replies causing looks of bafflement.

“What kind of trick are you trying to pull?” the leader says seemingly insulted.

“I’m not trying to pull anything I’m nervous you ass,” he replies nonchalantly, “if I get into trouble one more time my old man said he’d kill me himself.” His mood shifts into one of sarcastic charitableness, “Isn’t it great? I don’t have to beat you guys up and you get to be the leader or whatever! So, you can just go.” He starts walking away satisfied but the other men just don’t know how to take a hint.

“I heard your mother was so quick to throw you away that she didn’t even want name you,” The leader taunts, “then you should live as if you were dead and stop bugging me.”

“Well at least I tried.” He relents and turns around to face the men again while dramatically pulling out a 14-sided die. The men become anxious at the sight of the die knowing this is how he determines his strategy to beat people. The die is thrown up several meters into the air before being caught. “The person’s nose,” he mumbles as he reads the die. The men gulp before one of the underlings shouts to try and get the first hit while the young man is unprepared. The leader loudly charges forward and throws a punch which is easily dodged. But the boy gets too cocky and ends up tripping and falling face first onto the dirt road. His face flushes a bit in embarrassment as he lays on the ground and questions his luck.

“Did I hit him? I did, right?” The leader asks amazed. The other two men excitedly affirm that he had struck the boy and all three men begin to celebrate their “victory”. That is, until a yell comes piercing through the country air. A very tall, gangly, young man is clumsily charging at them, falling over several times before he reaches the group. He arrives to the “conflict” by jump kicking the leader in the chest and proceeding to land in what he believes to be an intimidating fighting stance.

“Don’t touch him! Fight me instead!” he proclaims throwing a few more small kicks for effect. The men, weirded out but still knowing they outnumber the giant boy, start to encircle him. “Getting up before they start hitting me would be nice!” he complains towards his friend who is still on the ground stewing in his own embarrassment. The other boy comes back to senses and quickly rises from the ground. As an afterthought, the tall boy quickly adds “don’t beat them up too badly though.”

“Hey jerks,” the now slightly pissed off boy says, “Run.”  Quickly scrambling to get a head start the three men take off. The two young friends closely following behind them into the forest. They dodge and weave on the paths through the forest as the taller boy once again trips leaving the rest of the pursuit to his friend.  Seeming to have lucked out the three men cross a small movable bridge. Acting quickly, they yank the bridge off balance letting it fall into the gap just as the boy catches up with them. They cackle because of their success and begin taunting him again from across the several meter gap, daring him to try and risk injury or worse if he were to try and come after them.

“Hey, what was his nickname again?” the leader asks breathless.

“Dog-bird.”

“Wait, why?” the leader asks slightly worried.

“He’s strong and loyal like a dog and he’s agile like a bird.” Comes the reply. Meanwhile the boy who had been walking away from them suddenly turns and sprints towards the gap. When he reaches the very edge, he launches himself into the air successfully surprising and over taking the men.

               Meanwhile, in the capital city of the Silla kingdom, an old man sits on the floor of a prison cell. He is a mess with his long greying hair sticking up every which way and his clothes in tatters. His hand shoots out and catches a fly that he intends to eat, however he is interrupted by a regal looking man entering his cell. “Be on your best behavior when you meet the queen.” It’s an order, not a request. The old man hums and bows his head in confirmation. Queen dowager Jiso enters the cell in all her regal glory with her abundant hair artfully styled and adorned with hair ornaments and wearing black and gold silk robes.

               “What is a best friend of the former king doing locked up in here?” her smooth voice in mostly controlled but there is disappointment leaking into her tone.  The old man only chuckles a little at the question.

               “I didn’t like the deceased king that much towards the end.” He tells her truthfully while not looking directly at her, “ I had sexual relations with his concubine, everyone said I had played around.”

               “You must not like this sacred kingdom then?” The queen asks letting some worry come through her façade. The man laughs and calmly quips back to the queen.

               “This is a country where a mother kicked out her own son.  A mother who couldn’t get rid of her greed even after being regent for 10 years.” he continues to stare off at the corner of the room as he concludes, “of course I have no choice but not to like it.” Queen Jiso remains as stone faced as she can and ignores his comments.

               “Have you thought about my request?” she asks calmly.

               “I have heard that the queen dowager is intelligent and cunning. But I think that the rumors are false.” He yawns causing the two guards of the queen to twitch in irritation at the sheer audacity of the man before them. “I’m a very easily exhausted person why do you keep asking me? What will you even do?”

               “I plan to make a group of guards that would give up their lives for their king.” She replies calmly.  The man chuckles and scoffs as he hears the idea.

               “A group of guards. Sounds good.” The reply is mix of sarcasm and amusement, “But all of the guards are being used by the officials. Who else would hold weapons and shoot arrows for the king? Are you going to get them from the kingdom of Baekje or Goguryeo?”

               “I am planning to recruit the sons of the officials.” The queen replies completely composed now. The grin that had been on the man’s face for the entire conversation slips off as he comprehends her statement. “Please teach them.” She continues, “Instead of their parents and families, they need to become loyal to the king and the country.”

               “And you think I would do this because…?” the man questions.

               “Weren’t you just saying that you wanted my regency to end? If you achieve in creating what I have asked I will step down from the throne cleanly.” She explains. The man’s face is serious as he thinks about what the queen is asking of him, but lets out a sigh and starts to laugh because he knows that this opportunity is too good to pass up.

               The two young friends, on the other hand, are conversing underneath a large tree that grows on a hill overlooking the valley that contains the capital. The tall boy is bragging about how he used to live in the city and dreaming about finding his family. He’s told what stories he could remember from his childhood to his friend so many times now that he could perfectly repeat them back to him.

               “When I figure out how to get into the capital I know I’ll be able to find them using this.” He smiles as he fiddles with the wood bead necklace around his neck. It’s a common sight, him dreamily going on like this, planning the perfect reunion with his father and younger sister and bringing his best friend, and surrogate brother, along and integrating him into his family to make up for the one he never got to have.

               “No matter what Mak Moon. We are going to get in there, okay?” Dog-bird, or Moo Myung as he was more commonly referred, assures him before smacking him lightly and scolding, “as long as you don’t chicken out again!”

               “If we go in as commoners we will be shot full of arrows or run through with spears!” Mak Moon whines defensively back, “Or get our heads cut off.” The other boy sighs agitated and is about to egg him on more before Mak Moon continues softly, “but it’s my home where I lived together with my mother, father, and little sister.” He grips his necklace determined, “I will find my family with this and I will find my identity too.”

               “I bet you won’t find anything with that.”

               “People find out stuff like this all the time!”

               Moo Myung smiles at his friend while holding in his laughter. Meanwhile, Mak Moon is pouting while tucking his necklace back inside his worn shirt.

               “You know you can still back out? I don’t want to force you to go somewhere you don’t want to.” Mak Moon asks passively.

               “I’ve already told you that I want to go. You’re family and wherever you go, I go. Anyways who cares if I am not allowed to be there because I’m a peasant, all people are the same so why shouldn’t I go?” his friend shoots back.

               “How did you become so fearless?” Mak Moon asks humoring his friend.

               “He who has a lot is the one with fear.” Moo Myung quotes, “I have nothing to be afraid of.” His eyes widen as he realizes that they have made a huge mistake. “Payment.” He mumbles.

               “What?”

               “He’s going to kill us!” and with that they both desperately take off running back to their small village.

               Moo Myung peaks around the corner of a doorway of a hut and lets out a breath of relief that the owner isn’t home. The boys, still panting from their run, rush over to a pot full of water. Mak Moon chugs some water before handing the gourd scoop over to Moo Myung. The boy barely gets a full swallow in before and arrow whips passed his face and plants itself into the side of the hut. He chokes and sputters on the water as he turns towards his “attacker”, a surly old man with a bow.

               “You almost killed me!”

               “How many times do I have to tell you not to fight? No one would take you in, but I took on that burden and this is what I get in return!” the old man scolds.

               “We know, you’ve been saying the same stuff for ten years!” Moo Myung yells back, though he is more annoyed than angry.

               “Well then you should also know that if there isn’t enough gold then the villagers will get beaten up?”

               “I do. But there is a reason I don’t---”

               “Oh, did you have a reason for getting into a fight?” the old man asks sarcastically as he draws back another arrow. Moo Myung, seeing how there was no way he could talk his way out of this, begins to run. The old man sighs before release the blunted arrow and hitting the boy square in the head knocking him out cold. Mak Moon winces in sympathy but doesn’t dare move.

               Later two riders approach the capital gates in the dead of night, both have their faces covered up to their eyes. They are met at the gate by the Queen’s right-hand man. The man brought no other witnesses and the younger of the two riders nods his head both in greeting and in thanks. The boy is the young king and he did not approve of his mother’s order to have anyone, outside of a small group of people, who knew his identity and saw his face to be immediately killed. She may reason that it is for his safety and he knows he can’t stop the loyal guard from carrying out the order, but he will be damned if he doesn’t put in the effort to prevent it from happening when he can.

               At that same moment Moo Myung and Mak Moon are scaling up a rope on the outer wall of the capital. Moo Myung makes it over the wall first and, after catching his breath, looks around to figure out what to do next. His breath catches in his throat as he spots the dangling heads of other peasants who had illegally entered the capital. He quickly turns back to Mak Moon as he clambers over the ledge behind him telling him to breath before looking around. Mak Moon does not take the horror of the decapitated rotting heads well and screams. Moo Myung is quick to cover his mouth and get them moving after that. They manage to steal some clothes from a wash line before most the city is awake. They couldn’t help but flaunt around in their new clothes, they had never worn anything so nice. Now they just had to look through the entire capital city for the girl that had the necklace that matched with Mak Moon’s.

Elsewhere in the capital, a handsome young man sits at the edge of completely enamored crowd listening to a young woman tell a dramatic tale of murder and romance. He has a small smile on his face as he leans against a post and closes his eyes to better picture the story that is being spun. Well, that was his original intention but he ends up falling asleep and missing the entire conclusion of the tale. When he wakes he’s disappointed, to say the least, and he snags a passerby asking where he could find the story teller.

 Moo Myung and Mak Moon decide to try and go to the most popular places in the capital because the more people they scan the more likely Mak Moon would be able to recognize his little sister or that they could spot the beads of the necklace. Which leads to them wandering into a gambling house. They mosey around stopping at different games to inquire about the necklace.

 “Excuse me, do you know what shop sells this type of thing? Have you seen anyone else wearing this?” Mak Moon asks holding out his necklace. A man watching one of the games tells him about a shop that would sell special pieces and even gives him directions. Unfortunately, he has no idea what any of the directions mean and he stutters out more questions about the location of the store. His confusion is overheard at a nearby table by a man with a large scar on his face. The scar faced man smirks knowingly and immediately pegs Mak Moon as an outsider. Moo Myung, in the meantime, had gotten distracted by watching the game. His eyes are focused as he watches the dice being handled. The scar faced man is playing against another man, with a small girl clinging to him, who loses once again. Moo Myung’s gaze hardens as he realizes the game is rigged. The man begs for another chance, since he had just lost all his money. The scar faced man laughs scornfully and makes one of his goons bring a box to the table.

 “Sure, I’ll give you another chance,” he sneers and opens the box to reveal a severed head, “as long as you don’t mind putting your daughter’s pretty little head up as payment.” The people watching look away in disgust and start murmuring about the foolishness of the man. The man is in tears and begging for mercy offering his life in place of his child.  Moo Myung, silently seething, offers to take the man’s place and places his head as payment instead. He knew the scar faced man wouldn’t deny him, he had seen his type before, the type that doesn’t care who he gets to hurt or kill just if he gets to spill blood and flaunt his power. “I’ll take that bet! I’ll even give you all of my winnings from today if you beat me!”

 “I don’t need your dirty money; your head will be payment enough.” Moo Myung shoots back without missing a beat. All conversation dies down in an instant. The scar faced man’s knowing grin morphs into a sneer, but he still agrees to play. They make their calls and the dice are rolled in a cup, which is then flipped making a dull thud on the table. Before the result can be revealed, and the dice switched out, Moo Myung’s arm shoots out and he slams his hand down on top of the overturned cup. He starts to reveal the results while preventing the man from moving the dice but the scar faced man slams the cup back down. He’s shaking with anger, and a bit of fear, as he holds the cup down fighting against Moo Myung who is calmly trying lift it.

 “No one else has ever been able to do this, who are you?” the scar faced man asks through gritted teeth. Moo Myung grins slyly back at him.

 “Oh me? I’m Dog-bird.”

 The man’s eyes widen in recognition. He knows that name and the reputation that comes with it. Mak Moon speaks up from where he has been watching the whole conflict take place. “Stop trying to delay the results! Show the dice!” The scar faced man gives Moo Myung a shaky grin as he offers to let Moo Myung keep his head if he walks away now.  Moo Myung refuses the offer with a shake of his head.

 “Why are you so nervous sir? Do you somehow already know the result?” Dog-bird asks snidely. The man, as it turns out, isn’t much of a gambler. He flips the table over while ordering his men get Moo Myung and Mak Moon. Both boys run while overturning tables and shoving people out their way. They run out of the gambling house and split up with Moo Myung leading the man and his flunkies on a chase through the city. He climbs over carts in the road and climbs up on top of the roof of one of the many buildings. The men furiously following him.  He spots a large gap between two of the buildings and heads towards it, knowing that the morons chasing after him won’t be able to make the jump. He reaches the gap and launches himself across, smacking his chest against the edge of the rooftop and knocking the wind out of himself before hauling himself up. He runs to the other side of the roof and climbs down into a side street. Scar face and his men lose sight of him causing him to yell in frustration.

 Meanwhile the haggard old man from the jail cell has gotten cleaned up and dressed in robes marking him with importance. He is searching for someone that can help him complete his mission and finally get the queen to step down. He walks into a bustling teahouse filled with young lounging nobles. The owner is waltzing around and fanning himself with the perfect service smile on his face while checking on his patrons.

 “Hwa-gong!” the shop owner exclaims spotting the other man, “I haven’t seen you ages!” Hwa-gong gives him a small smile while still taking in the shop.

 “You’ve been busy while I have been away. Who would have thought that the incompetent Pi Joo Ki would become such a successful business man.” Hwa-gong says with a chuckle.

 “If you’re so impressed with one shop wait until you visit the others!” Joo ki says with pride. He leads Hwa-gong to table in the back so they can talk. “So what brings you here? This isn’t the type of place you would normally choose to frequent.”

 “It’s urgent.” Hwa-gong says, his mood changing into one of complete solemnity, “I’m looking for something special, something that only you could provide me.” Joo Ki looks shocked for a moment before giving Hwa-gong a dirty grin.

 “Getting all needy for a woman in your age?” Jooki asks suggestively. He receives a blank look in response.

 “No.” Hwa-gong says patiently, “I am asking you to find me young beautiful men.”

 “Oh. Was that time away to do some self-reflection?” Jooki says, eyebrows raised in revelation, “I mean, usually people figure or try this out when they are younger but to each his own.” Hwa-gong lets out a sigh, realizing that he probably should have worded that better.

 After explaining the situation more fully Jooki takes him to his most popular shop in the city called Daiseo. He made a special room in the back that worked as both an office and a hidden viewing spot to watch the goings on in his shop, which he graciously offers as an incognito base of operation to Hwa-gong.

 In a different part of town, the pretty girl who tells stories is having an argument with a wine merchant. He owes her three months’ pay and she is not going to take no as an answer.

 “Miss Ahro, please explain to me how it makes sense to pay a thief?” the stall owner asks the girl condescendingly.

 “Why are you lying just so you don’t have to pay me? Is business really that bad?” Ahro shoots back. “I could spread the word that you like to rip people off or you could just pay me what you owe.”

 “Act as highborn as you want girl. It doesn’t matter that your father is of noble birth, your mother was lowborn and you are nothing but a lowborn half breed because of it.” The man sneers. Ahro is fuming as her eyes dart around the stall only to settle onto the jars of his finest wine.

 “Fine. You don’t want to pay me or treat me right that’s your choice. I wasn’t going to keep working for you anyways but now you’ve given me reason to at least live up to your lies.” She smirks raising her hand and pointing towards the jars of wine. “I think a jar per month should suffice.” She then grabs one of the jars, opens it, tips it back like she going to chug the jug, only to dump it in the dirt and drop the pot shattering it. The man stares at her in utter shock as he watches her do it again only this time she doesn’t put up the front of drinking it, she just chucks it out into the middle of the street startling some people walking by. Ahro then grabs the last jug, glares pointedly at the merchant, and then turns sharply and stomps away.

 She trudges back to her home at a slow pace, there is only so fast anger can take you when lugging around a clay pot full of alcohol. Her entire being gives off an aura for people to bug off, eyes narrowed and scanning the crowd. She spots a stand being pilfered by some kids and huffs in annoyance as she plops the jar of alcohol on the ground before going over to scold the children. The children don’t even have the mind to look ashamed and they giggle as they run off, most of them clumsily dropping the small trinkets they were trying to steal. Ahro rolls her eyes good naturedly and turns around to go retrieve the pot only to see a man picking it up and starting to make off with it.  Not having any of it, she slips off her shoes and starts running after the man. She hurtles a single shoe through the crowd of people, hoping to at least make him slow down for a moment, only for it smack into the head of a boy wandering through. Embarrassed and annoyed that she missed her target she doesn’t realize that she is going too fast to stop as she all but tackles the boy. They land in an ungraceful heap on the dirt road. He groans as she pushes off his chest to prop herself up to look for her wine thief but there is no sign of the man.

 “Seriously!? Even when I am getting rightful retribution this stupid kingdom can’t even allow me that!” Ahro complains. She makes a noise of frustration before fully comprehending that she is laying on top of someone in the middle of a busy road. She looks down and gives a stuttered apology. The boy she knocked over is handsome even with the dopey confused look on his face. He mumbles that he’s okay, head turning this way and that until he spots her shoe. He hands it back to her as they pick themselves up out of the dirt.

 “Well, um, good day.” The boy says with a nod and speed walks away. Ahro tilts her head in confusion before wondering back to her home.

 She walks through the gateway into her home laying down on the raised platform in the center of the small courtyard. She’s tired and annoyed and wants to complain to somebody but there’s noise coming out of the spare room used for patients. It sounds as if her dad is talking to the man he enlisted to find her brother and mother. It has been ten years since they were forced to leave the capital and every day the hope of ever finding them diminishes a little bit more. Ahro decides to take a nap while waiting for her father, she needed the rest anyways because she must go to Okta tonight and entertain the “innocent” high born girls with a story.

 The young man who was listening to her story in the square is now dressed in royal robes and standing in the throne room of the palace glaring at the throne. The queen regent comes into the room through the door behind him, an air of anger and fear swirling around her.

 “Sam Maek Jong why have you come here? After all I have done to protect you and you just throw it all away!” She doesn’t yell, but her voice is growing louder the more she talks. “Do you not trust me anymore? You being here is extremely problematic, it will only arouse suspicion in the lords.”

 “Isn’t it strange that I am not here though?” the young king asks back calmly. “I am the king after all. This city and country are mine to watch over. I should be here to do that.” He turns around to face his mother.

 “It’s still not safe for you here. There are still too many enemies in the capital willing to use or kill you.” She retorts. He lets out a frustrated sigh calming himself before he replies.

 “It will never be absolutely safe for me. Getting rid of all the throne’s possible enemies is a non-starter. I don’t want to forcefully take the throne from you mother, I don’t want to start a civil war, but it’s hard to see the reasons you are giving me as proper validation for keeping me from taking my rightful place on the throne.”

 “You are still a child. It is my decision to put you on this throne when I see fit, whether you trust me or not.” She spits back. “For now, just live as if you are dead.”

 Maek Jong lets out a frustrated breath through his nose before he stalks out of throne room. His guard and companion, Paoh, joins him as he walks to a different room to change into lower rank robes.

 He spends a good deal of the night closed off in his own thoughts, trying to figure out if his mother’s claims about his safety are legitimate. He stares down resentfully at the jade dragon bracelet on his wrist that identifies him as King Jinhueng.  He has the title and birthright of a king but none of the abilities or powers and he is bitter.

 Mak Moon is coincidently right outside the courtyard of the room where the young king is staying. He’s whispering loudly for Moo Myung trying to locate his friend so they can find somewhere to rest for the night. It is then that he spots a figure, dressed completely in black and armed with a sword, sneak over the wall and into the nearest building.

 The black clad man slides into the room while drawing his sword. He takes soft steps towards the sleeping body on the other side of the room.  When he is right next to the mat he stabs into sleeping man’s form and lets out a shaky breath as he withdraws his blade.

 “You know, if you want to kill someone in their sleep you should learn to be quieter.” Maek Jong says equal parts amused and disappointed. The would-be assassin whirls around taken by surprise and wildly starts lunging and slicing his sword through the air. “You’re not formally trained,” The king observes while dodging the clumsy attacks. “Honestly that sword is so beat up I am surprised it even stabbed through the cushions.” He throws a punch into the other man’s stomach causing him gasp. Maekjong grabs his opponent’s arms twisting them in a way contorts them behind his back. He grimaces as he smells the heavy sent of alcohol on the other man. “You’ve never killed before, have you? You had to drink to even gain the courage to do this.” He twists the man’s arms up even more tightly making him groan in pain. “So, let’s hear it. How much is my life worth?”

 “Three bags.” The man whines out. Maekjong chuckles but it’s humorless. This man must be insanely desperate.

 “My life is only worth three lousy bags of rice.” He murmurs to himself. “Paoh! We have a slight problem!” he yells out to is guard. He turns towards the door as it opens only to feel his heart drop into his stomach. His mother’s most loyal and trusted guard, Hyun Chu, had entered the room instead. He hadn’t seen him since the night he was escorted through the city gate. “Wait! He doesn’t even know who I am, you don’t need to do this!” he tries to explain. He let go of the man quietly whispering, “run.” It’s a miniscule hope that the man would escape. He’s too shocked to listen, stumbling backwards as guard advances towards him and crying out for mercy only to be dispatched within seconds. Maekjong stares at the now lifeless man in shock but soon turns his gaze on Hyun Chu in anger. He storms out of his rooms, he needs air and it now smells like blood in his sleeping quarters. He is enraged that Hyun Chu must follow his mother’s orders and not his own. He is king but he can’t even save the life of one of his subjects.

 Mak Moon had heard the commotion and was waiting to move after it had quieted down. He walks past the opening to the courtyard just as Maekjong has stormed down to the bottom of the stairs. Mak Moon freezes unsure whether he should run to avoid being called out for trespassing or if sprinting off would just make him seem more suspicious. Maekjong is surprised as well, no one is usually near this part of the city at this hour, and he stops to look at the other boy in confusion. Meanwhile, Hyun Chu had caught up with him by rushing down the steps after him.

 “Your Majesty, you cannot go out at night unaccompanied!” he scolds. Maekjong’s figure stiffens as Mak Moon’s eyes widen in realization. Not again, Maekjong thinks desperately. He turns around and tries to obscure the other boy’s figure from Hyun Chu’s view, but he wasn’t quick enough. He throws out his arms and stands in Hyun Chu’s way while yelling at the other boy to run away. Mak Moon is woken from his shock at seeing the king, now realizing he is in danger, and takes off running.  He sees Moo Myung coming down the road and sprints towards him terrified, he quickly grabs him and drags them to hide behind a wall flattening them onto the ground. Hyun Chu tries to step around Maekjong but the boy steps in front of him continuing to block his path. The king looks determined and Hyun Chu at least has some decency to look apologetic before bumping him out of the way and running towards his horse. He quickly mounts and kicks the horse into a gallop out of the gate and down the dirt road after the boy. He gallops past the wall the boys are hiding behind, thinking the boy would be too scared to have the wits to hide. Mak Moon lets out the breath he was holding taking in deep heaving breaths after the run and the scare.

 “I just saw the king.” He said in awe.

 “What?” Moo Myung asks incredulously. “No you didn’t. Why would the king be outside of the palace?” Moo Myung didn’t want to think about what it would mean for them both if he had actually seen the king.

 “It had to have been him! He was everything a king should be; handsome, brave, and righteous.” Mak Moon gushes.

 “How righteous can he be if he sent that guard after you?” Moo Myung asks flatly.

 “But he didn’t! He got in his way and stopped him from chasing me.” Mak Moon defends. His friend looks back at him stunned. Moo Myung looks down and twiddles with his fingers. He’s silently thankful to the young noble man for helping to protect the only family he had. He picks himself up off the ground and offers a hand out to Mak moon.

 “Come on we should find somewhere to sleep, I don’t think we should keep searching tonight.” They find a stable close by and they settle down on the hay in the back corner out of sight of the entry way. “give me your necklace.” Moo Myung demands nonchalantly.

 “What? Why?”

 “You’re too easily recognizable with your stupid long legs so I’ll go out tomorrow and keep asking around while you lay low.” Moo Myung explained, “anyways, if your dad is ranked high enough finding him will help you get absolved of any charges you could have against you.”

 “He will do more than that,” Mak Moon said with a grin, “he’ll get you a citizen pass for the city and take you in too. I just know it.” Moo Myung grins back with a warm feeling in his chest. They go to sleep with the picture of a content future together in their minds.

 Moo Myung spends the next day wandering from shop to shop inquiring about the necklace, but he finds next to nothing besides one eccentric shop keeper saying it looked familiar.

 Mak Moon, after begging and annoying Moo Myung to his wits end, goes out during the night to continue his search. At least there is less of a chance for him to be recognized in the darkness of the night. He notices a strange domed building with lots of young people entering and leaving and figures he might be able to dig up some information there. He skims the crowd as he goes towards the entrance trying to figure out how people get through the bouncers. But then his eyes catch on a girl. She’s pretty and smiling as her finer dressed companion escorts her through the entrance. It’s not her face that caught his attention though, but the beaded necklace that she wears that looks exactly the same as his own. He stares with his mouth slightly open in utter shock. That was his little sister. She grew up so well and pretty, just like I knew she would, he thinks fondly. He closes his mouth and his face sets into a look of determination, he will get into this building, and he will reunite with his family. Ten years of separation about to be over and the bouncers refuse to let him through the door.

 Inside the building young beautiful nobles are enjoy drinks, music, dancing, and other forms of entertainment. Excited squeals and giggles interrupt the atmosphere as the crowd parts and a handsome young man leads his entourage into the club. He looks indifferent as he walks through the crowd of people complimenting his looks, skills, and family lineage. His three companions, on the other hand, are soaking in the attention they garner.

 “Banryu you’re so handsome!”

 “I love his cool demeanor! He looks so sophisticated.”

 “I feel like my eyes have been blessed!”

 Banryu waits until he walked through the mob before allowing himself a small satisfied smile. It disappears a moment later when another shout breaks through the crowd.

 “It’s Sooho! Sooho is here!”

 Another young man enters with his own group of friends, this time he is openly basking in the attention, compliments and swooning. His flaunting walk comes to a halt when he spots Banryu and his peons.

 “So much for having a good time.” Sooho says with a snicker. “What are you doing here Banryu?”

 “I wasn’t aware they were letting in immature morons tonight, otherwise I wouldn’t have bothered to come.” Banryu replies sounding bored, though the look in his eyes means he is annoyed. Sooho tenses up eyes flaming.

 “I can’t stand this cold atmosphere! This always happens when Banryu bothers Sooho just because he is better.” A random boy whines. Sooho’s demeanor melts into one of pure cockiness.

 “You heard him. You can spoil the mood all you want but I won’t let you stop me from enjoying myself.” Banryu and Sooho glare at each other for several more moments before Banryu rolls his eyes and walks towards the private room he reserved.  He doesn’t feel like fighting tonight.

 Ahro had been escorted to another private room full of excited young women and girls. This is one of her favorite jobs, when she gets to entrance and captivate an audience with a story. Even if some of the audience is hidden. She knows some of the boys like to reserve the rooms around this one not only for privacy but also because they can listen in.

 Sooho and friends are such a group. All of them leaning with ears pressed against the wall to hear every word. All of them trying to put on a façade of experience while blushing, giggling, and gasping at the details of Ahro’s story. The young king is also listening in, but he is brooding over his barely touched cup of alcohol. He came to Okta to cool down and maybe plan his next move. It was a pleasant surprise that he had run into the story teller again, even if she was telling a different story.  Banryu and his companions are listening in as well, though he seems intent on looking disinterested as they get drunk off wine. One of his companions is starting to get too cocky, he’s drunk and loud, sarcastically acting like he is interested in Ahro. The others chuckle at his antics and notice that they need more alcohol but Banryu just sighs quietly.

 “Kang Seong you go get it. You need remember your place.” He says.

 “What? Banryu why- “the other boy starts to stutter.

                 “Do not forget that your father, and therefore you, has the lowest rank out of all of us. We allow you to be around us, do not forget that.” The chuckling had stopped and the others are now looking away from the lower ranked boy. Seong is fuming and looks like he wants to argue back, but instead chooses to stomp off to do what was demanded of him.

 Mak Moon, meanwhile, had snuck in the back entrance and was scanning the crowd and peeking into rooms looking for his sister. He finds the room full of young women and spots Ahro telling her story. He can see the necklace more clearly now and he knows it matches his own. He tries waving his arms and calling over to get her attention. Instead he ends up smacking a tray of alcohol out of someone’s hand. He tenses up, knowing he just drew the wrong kind of attention towards himself, and turns around quickly to apologize. It’s bad luck that he just upset the boy Banryu had insulted. He was looking for something to take out is anger on and now he found the perfect target.

 “Are you serious? Do you know who I am?” the seething boy shouts as he backs Mak Moon up against the wall, “Well how are you going to make this up to me? Judging by your clothes you won’t be able to pay me back with money.” Mak Moon tries to shove his way past the boy but is shoved back into the wall before being punched in the gut. He sinks down to kneel on floor and wrap his arms around his stomach. The other boy grabs Mak Moon by his hair and drags him to the center of the main room where he then continues to hit and kick at him.

 The commotion of the fight had drawn the attention of everyone in the building causing the crowd to grow and the heckling to get louder. The girls in the room where Ahro was telling her story rushed out to watch the fight, fanning themselves at the idea of “men in combat”. Sooho and his companions storm out of their private room to see what had interrupted them when the story was getting to the best part. Banryu and he entourage, who had heard who was causing the noise, came out to see what nonsense their comrade had caused. The young king, however, did not go to see the fight. He just sighed and resigned himself to once again not hearing the end to another story. He gets up and opens the door to his room to leave while everyone is distracted, but is surprised to see one remaining girl still in the private room angrily muttering to herself.

 “Um…excuse me?” He asks.

 “What?” the girl replies moodily not looking in his direction.

 “Were you telling the story?”

 “…yeah.”

 “Could you finish it please?” he asks earnestly, “I’ll even pay you.” He reaches into the small bag tied to his waste and pulled out some silver pieces. The girl turns and finally looks at his face and blushes. The boy is handsome and is treating her kindly, he honestly reminds her of a small dog begging for a treat, so she decides to humor him. “Actually, you were telling a story the other day in front of a shop, it was about a murder romance I believe, I didn’t get to hear the end of that one either… could you finish that one instead?” Ahro was surprised and a little relieved that the boy wasn’t a pervert. Most people when they come to Okta want to hear nothing but the “scandalous” and it is refreshing to run into someone who is more interested in the non-traditional stories she likes to tell.  

 In the main room Mak Moon lays beaten on the floor in middle of a circle of people. Seong is now drunk off both the alcohol and his power over the other. He is walking around the other’s curled up body with a sword now. He turns to Banryu and asks excitedly if it’s okay for him to kill Mak Moon. He is just a peasant without proper papers after all, worth less than dirt, and he would be executed anyways.

 “You’re not actually going to let him do this?” Sooho scoffs, “I know you’re disloyal garbage Banryu, but I also know you’re not an idiot.” He is acting nonchalant but there is an edge to his words. There will be a bigger brawl if the peasant boy fatally harmed. Sooho may be a true bone but he picks his companions based on shared beliefs, interests, and skills; he wants them to be his friends not tools. Banryu, on the other hand, picks to surround himself with people that he knows he will be able to use.  

 There is always tension between the two groups, it has been this way since they were small and their parents told them not to play together, anything could trigger them to get into a fight. Many believe they would grow up to be bitter rivals in the royal court much like their fathers, Sooho would be blindly loyal to the royal family while Banryu would be ready to usurp at a moment’s notice.

 Banryu does nothing as he watches the boy lift his sword and prepare to strike. Suddenly, an object comes hurtling through the air and collides with the boy’s face. He curses and brings the hand clutching the sword down to rub at his forehead his gaze angrily turning towards the offending projectile; a fourteen-sided die.

 “Who threw that?” He snarls while taking a menacing step towards the crowd.

 “It was me,” Comes the calm reply and the crowd parts to reveal Moo Myung, “I’m sorry I just really don’t like watching spoiled nobles acting like they’re hot shit.”

 “Who the hell do you think you are?”

 “You don’t need or deserve to know.” Moo Myung snaps as he walks over and kneels at Mak Moon’s side. “Are you alright?” He asks softly helping him sit up and move away from his assailant.

 “Yeah, it’s nothing I can’t take.” He answers breathily while giving him a grateful and pained smile.

 “Well I’m not alright.” He stands and faces the now severely pissed off Seong. The other boy had recovered from the hit and, now even further embarrassed, charges and slashes at his new opponent. Moo Myung easily side steps the blow, grabs the boy’s sword hand, and twists it forcing the sword to drop to the floor. The boy yelps in pain and cradles his wrist while stepping away from Moo Myung as he scoops up the weapon. The surrounding crowd lets out a mix of surprised and impressed shouts.

 “Not bad, I like this guy.” Sooho chuckles. Even Banryu raises an eyebrow in interest, impressed by the stranger’s skill. Moo Myung lets the tip of the blade touch the wooden floor before spinning around and carving a circular boarder around himself.

 “Since it’s not against the law for a spoiled brat to murder someone because of their rank, then it’s my own personal law that I get to beat up any aristocrat that crosses this line.” Moo Myung smirks as he accusingly points the sword towards the crowd. “So, Who’s First?”

[sapphirastavros]

Part Three

Wednesday 9:37 P.M.

Miami International Airport

Miami, Florida U.S.A.

There was a soft ding before the speakers in overhead department turned on with a message from the captain. "Welcome to Miami, the current tempature is 76 degrees with a high of 88 today. We at Southwest hope you enjoyed your international flight and travel again with us real soon." The fasten seat belt light finally turned off and the passengers were allowed to begin departing the plane. Sapphira grabbed her bag from. The overhead bin and slowly shuffled out of first class into the terminal. It had been a chaotic week, one she did not almost survive. That train of thought stuck with the moment she woke up in the hospital back in Athens. She had been unconscious for two days as a result of her allergic reaction. Sure most people wake up the same day but her epipen had been withheld from her. So it was not a normal case of an allergic reaction. Her father had done numerous unforgivable things but trying to kill his own daughter even surprised Sapphira. And if he could do it once he could definitely do it again.

Following the illuminating signs that directed her towards arrivals, though Sapphira was pretty familiar with the Miami Airport. It was the only international airport in Florida, that might have been her first trip back to Greece in three years but she had gone to a plethora of other countries. However, the young woman had no plans of traveling anytime soon. She was finally back where she considered home and she was going to indulge in her life apart from her father while she could. Fierce blue eyes scanned the awaiting crowd in arrivals looking for Nico. She had arranged with him to pick her up from the airport, Dimitris had decided to stay back in Greece and it was honestly for the best. Their last interaction was not an easy one.

Dimitris was banged up, his left eye three times it's normal size and his left arm was in a cast, and twelve stitches across his cheek. He had bruises scattered across his face and arms. "Sapphira you have to believe me, I did know his plans and I would never let him hurt you." He had taken a beating for wrestling Mr. Stavros to the floor for the medicine to save his charge. Santos and Xavier had taken turns delivering his punishment for disobeying the boss. His not broken hand reaching for hers. "You're my adelfí..."

"Don't you dare call me that again!" She pulled away from her bodyguard someone who use to be more then hired protection to her. "You lost the right to call me a sister." She looked away from him as she continued packing her bag, his betrayal cut her deeper then her father's attempt on her life. Dimitris was suppose to be one of the good guys. Someone she could trust. "You hesitated. Whether or not you are the reason I am even standing here today you hesitated to do what was right. You had to think about it before actually taking action." She shook her head in disappointment. "We grew up together long before I became your paycheck and if the situation was reversed I would not have hesitated to save you." After her mother's death Dimitris had become her only form of family, he stuck by her even after she had been shipped off to the United States. "I get it I'm not a Saint and sometimes I am more trouble then I am worth, I am even positive when my time comes that there is a seat reserved for me in hell but I've never done anything to deserve for my life to be taken from me. What do you think your theíos would say if he was still alive?" That last part was a bitch move and her words almost made her cringe. Attacking Dimitris verbally about his deceased uncle was a move her father would pull. She sighed as her eyes filled with tears, Sapphira had not cried since her mother's funeral and she was trying so hard right now not to cry but she was losing a brother. "Look it doesn't matter my father got what he wanted, I signed those papers so I can go home."

Shaking those blonde colored curls of hers to bring herself back to the present and out of her thoughts. She could see Nico towards the back on his cellphone. Making her way over to the large fit male, "I thought we agreed on a chauffeur hat and a giant sign with my name on it? Something along the lines of Goddess Sapphira." She questioned in a joking manner giving Nico a shoulder nudge. She gave her partner a hard time often but there was a huge sense of relief seeing him. Maybe because she knew he was someone she could trust without a doubt. He was someone she could call in a time of need and count on. He had proven he had her back when she needed it the most.

Slipping his phone back into the pocket of his jeans Nico grinned taking the suitcase from her hand before draping his other arm casually on her shoulder. "How was Greece? Did you bring me back a souvenir?" He chuckled making his way out of the arrival terminal with her heading towards parking.

"I did bring you back a souvenir, me. It not get better then an authentic Greek from Greece." Her tone turned a bit more serious before answering the big question. "Greece went smoothly. No complications." No complications? Smoothly? The thing was, how was Greece was a hidden question. She knew what he meant and it was not like he could ask the real question outloud. The question she knew he was really looking for an answer to.

"Stavros miss me already?" That was the first thing out of Nico's mouth when answering his phone.

"Yea." Sapphira's tone almost cracked in her one word answer. Any other time she would have made a smart ass remark but this time as she sat in that hospital room lucky to be alive, her humor was nonexistent.

"What's wrong?" His concern was instant because he knew his partner well enough to know her answer was out of the norm. He was expecting to get her regular sarcastic response.

Where was she suppose to even start with what was wrong? Her head was ringing and it was just a reminder that things were definitely not okay. This was no time for her to act tough. She needed help to take care of her problem. So Sapphira started from the beginning; the first breakfast with her father and the savings her mother left her to the charity event where he purposely caused her allergic reaction that led her to being in thr hospital. "It's clear to me now Nico, my father has to die."

After several choice words drawn on by anger that fueled him hearing about the attempt made on her life. "I'll rip him to shreds when I get there! He's a fu..."

"You can't come here." Her father was too well protected given his Ambassador status and if anything went wrong she did not want him to take the fall for her father. "I should be the one... I need to be the one." She more needed help with the how or more the what to use. Her plan was to poison him. Sapphira needed a substance that would take a few hours to kill him but also digested fully before any autopsy. That way if foul play was ever suggested her alibi of being on a plane would make it impossible for her to be a suspect.

Placing her suitcase in his trunk he looked over at her. It was all about reading between the context of her words. They were having a much different conversation secretly, one that sounded more casual then it was. "So then your trip went as planned?"

Thinking back to the moment as she watched Alistaire drink from his scotch glass in what he believed was a victory when she signed her money over to him. That smug smirk on his face, if only he knew then it was no victory for him. Sapphira switched on her phone, she had thirty-eight missed calls from Dimitri. She did not need to listen to the voicemails she knew what they would say. She looked up to her partner with a wicked grin on her features, "I can confirm everything went according to plan."

For now there was a huge sense of relief as she got into Nico's car. For now she felt no guilt about what she had done. Her father's death deserved no empathy or tears, his was finally going to rot in hell where he belonged. She knew eventually she would have to shed a few tears, that people would expect her to. But right now she wanted to go home, she had not got an ounce of sleep since waking up in the hospital back in Athens.