#be aware of this man amara | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

winksasleeplesseye · 4 months

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reunio (six)

SUMMARY: While Leon and Ashley are off on their own adventure amongst the vast castle, Amara, Luis, and the reluctant Ada are off on their own journey within the castle walls. A hunt and a reunion ensues. But, the chaos isn't over yet.

WORD COUNT: 7k (no edits, we die like men)

WARNINGS: some item hunting, angst, flashbacks and conversations and violence

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1999

The wallpaper was a bit dated, gaudy for sure. All of it in its 70s glory. The floral green upholstered couches and almost painful salmon pink of the accents and decor made Amara’s eyes hurt.

Paired with the two suits currently occupying the couches. They looked just about excited as postmen at Christmas. Only here out of obligation to the young girl temporarily staying here. It’d been a tough first year, reestablishing normalcy to a girl who’d had less than a normal life proved to be far more difficult than expected. Another reason they’d called her here, beyond their allotted visits.

The older woman, Mrs. Hoffman, was sweet but one could tell she ran her home with a tad bit of an iron fist. If it wasn’t already clear, this woman was strict to Sherry.

Treating her as though what laid inside her could be fixed.

Stupid. Fucked up, really.

They’d become two of a kind. Amara knew what it was like to be uprooted quite often, never quite having stability to really put much stock into making friends, sure, she’d try but never quite knowing when they’d be off to the next place made it hard to keep in touch.

Sherry had been in limbo, both Amara and Claire argued that this much moving around didn’t do much for her.

Amara leaned against the doorframe, Sherry not yet made aware of her being there as she rummaged through a storage container of cassette tapes. Even from her sitting position on the floor, Amara could tell she’d hit a bit of a growth spurt in her absence.

The soft melody of an older song played in the cassette player as Sherry clicked it on. The Jackson Five.

Hmm, she was impressed that Sherry even knew them.

The song was Got to Be There. Huh, how fitting.

“Aren’t you a little young to be listening to such old songs?” Amara makes her presence known, the smile Sherry wore is enough to make her have one in return.

Pushing herself off the ground, she practically jumped into her arms. “Amara!”

“Sherbear! Careful now, my ribs are still bruised from the last hug you gave me,” she jested, ruffling her hair. “How’s Hoffman treating you?”

“Like a fucking dictator.” There’s a particular heavy emphasis on the curse word. It was definitely new to her.

“Hey, watch that language.”

“Sorry. It’s just—“

“Yeah, I know.”

They wanted her here to quell Sherry’s frustrations with going from place to place. One could say she was essentially in the system. Considering how this country operated, no one wanted to be there but Sherry had a strange predicament to start. The cards didn’t really line up in any of their favors.

Unfortunately, soon enough, she’d be under the care of Derek C. Simmons.

It was the last option the government had. Amara had fought tooth and nail with the decision but there wasn’t much leverage on her part. Couldn’t exactly go against her own deal, really.

That man in question had something about him that made her stomach turn. He was like Irons 2.0, a general creepy vibe radiated from him that she didn’t like. He seemed the last person qualified to truly care for Sherry.

“When am I gonna get to stay with you?” She has a puppy dog look in her eyes. “I’ve never been more bored in my life.”

“Sorry kiddo, but I still have no idea,” Amara answered honestly, shoving a hand into her pocket. She didn’t want to crush the girl’s hopes. Wait. She almost forgot. “Sheesh, Sherry, your keychain!”

“Where from this time?”

Sherry had developed a strange knack for collecting keychains much like a mother collecting mugs from her kids in their many travel adventures. Amara thought it sweet and just about the funnest thing to pick up on her missions, the others assigned with her would make fun that she’d take the time to stop into the most touristy places just for a “silly” keychain but to see Sherry’s eyes light up as she looked over the fun designs made it worth it.

“Italy, can’t you tell by the moped?” Amara pointed out the cartoon, an over-exaggerated man speeding away on his blue Vespa and the damn near kismet colors of brown cobblestone streets against a teal-blue skyline on it made it one of the more artistic keychains she’d picked out for the girl.

Sherry, a little too perceptive for her own good, seems to notice Amara’s overall demeanor underneath the smile she wore.

“I’m not staying here much longer, am I?”

“You know, in another life, I’d like to think you’d be a detective the way you pick up on so much,” Amara sighed with a sad smile, going down to eye level with the girl.

“When?”

Her head hangs low, she can’t say it…not directly anyway, not while seeing the sadness that would spring to the girl’s eyes.

“Next week. With Simmons.”

Amara inevitably looked on the bright side. Having someone as “important” as Simmons as her guardian guaranteed that no perceived threats could get close to the girl. The only threat that she could think of was Wesker (only second to the very government themselves). After the mansion incident and RC, Wesker’s body had never been recovered so that formed the only logical conclusion to come to that he still walked among the living.

“He gives me the creeps,” Sherry fiddled with a loose hem on her t-shirt, “a lot of creeps.”

“I won’t fight you on that, kiddo. But, he’s just about the safest option for you now and you know Claire and me fought hard on that choice.” Amara explained. “There’s a quote I heard once that went a bit like this…in any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing.”

“This feels like the wrong thing.” Her voice is small.

“It’s better than nothing, right?” Amara noted. “Besides, it’s not like I’m going to just up and leave and never see you again. You’ll always have me, we are two of a kind after all.”

Present

Amara wandered through the grandiose halls of the castle, in search of an item—a blue Butterfly to be specific—to aid Luis in creating a new suppressant and at the same time pondered on the notion of getting Sherry a castle keychain.

This mission had her thinking a lot about the past few years considering she had not one, but two familiar faces from Raccoon. And if Leon was any indication, they’d been…difficult to say the least.

He was always pretty, but damn, he looked exhausted.

She never thought about her own struggles with sleep nor the other problems that arose too hard, barely breaching the surface. Just put them down as nights filled with distant voices on TV and ramen. The beauty of compartmentalization, she’d punch it down any chance she got. She rubbed her back gingerly, feeling a knot beneath her fingertips. A constant almost hunger sat in her stomach and it gnawed and bubbled like bile in her throat.

“Definitely need a hot bath after this.” Amara scaled the wall. Silently wishing she had Ada’s grappling gun.

Amara surveyed the room once she entered, gun at the ready, listening for any special guest that was too keen on choking her out.

Clear.

She lowered her gun, putting it back in her holster. “Thank fucking God.”

“Now, let’s see about a blue butterfly.”

The collection room sat below one of the castle battlement towers so it was pretty clear how little whoever ran this place cared less about preservation, should it have ever come under attack.

Her hands slid across the displays. The floor creaked under her weight with every cautious step. For a moment, it was as if she were at a museum, slowly gazing over different exhibits. Something about these items fascinated the curiosity deep down.

A letter stood out on the table next to an animal skull, almost too convenient if Amara had to guess.

Her eyes skim the letter—a diary entry now that she looks closer—and it reads:

Preparator’s Notes

The collection master is a tacky and lousy boss! He leaves all the dissections for me to do! Even if he does bother to come here, all he does is gawk at his three favorite specimens in a particular order before leaving.

There’s nothing special about them anyway! Why only look at those three specimens when we have that prized butterfly to admire?

A good researcher would know such things.

She now noticed the lock, images were the code to unlock it. Seriously? What was it with the damn puzzles?

She walked around the room about three times. By the third time, her vision blacked out momentarily and a pain struck inside her ribcage. It sent her to her knees. “Fuck sake, knock it off.” Amara almost wanted to punch herself in the chest but thought better of it. Was this what Leon and Ashley were going through too?

The more negative part of her thoughts drifted to the smallest possibility of them failing. Small, but ever present.

A puppet to a parasite. No control over her own body, her own thoughts. Controlled by some unknown figure.

A particular twist in her gut made her feel like any contents in her stomach could come up. She didn’t want to stomach that for either one of them. Or herself for that matter. They didn’t survive everything thrown their way so far to give up now.

Stand on your feet, girl. One of her trainers would say after a breathtaking blow would damn near make her keel over. Amara would wave a hand dismissively (tears threatening to spill from her eyes), thinking maybe just maybe she wasn’t cut out for it after all. But that was too easy.

“Amara? Hanging in there?” Luis’ voice from her radio shaked her out of her thoughts.

“Define that, and I’ll let you know,” She pathetically pushed herself to her feet. “How’s it coming with the ingredients?”

“Just need yours and we’re good. I’m all about taking it slow, but maybe hurry it up?”

“So I've saved the best for last?” Amara wiggled her eyebrows. “I’m honored.” She turned the lock a few times, the crudely drawn images on it denoted the animal skulls she had examined.

A satisfying click comes from it as it opens the display. A perfectly preserved blue butterfly. She weighs it between her fingertips, careful not to let it break. “This better work for all the trouble you gave me.”

There’s a silence from the comms but she can still hear the sounds in the background on Luis’ end. “Luis, I’ve got it. On my way.” She hangs up shortly after.

Amara is more than ready to get the hell out of here but another letter catches her eye.

Preparator’s Notes

The collection master has yet to examine this painting. Lousy boss that he is. After my thorough examination, I’ve decided to have the painting moved to the gallery in the hall with the three-headed statue for display.

I’m sure the castellan, or someone, will appreciate its rather unusual nature.

“Two birds, one stone.”

That had to be pure happenstance that the very last painting would be among the collection of the other rather stereotypical pieces that Amara expected on the walls. She racked her brain, retracing the steps it would take to get to the gallery quickly while also delivering the butterfly to Luis.

Her watch read 7:35 pm. Amara lifted her eyes to the sky and for the first time, she noticed how dark it truly was. Almost a whole day had passed?

Los Illuminados really had them on their toes for hours. And yet, here she was, fighting against the clock against a mind-controlling parasite to burn a painting. Shit, she needed to get her priorities straight.

After having traversed a few of the castle walls (narrowly avoiding encounters with the black robes), she noticed Luis as he carried a wooden box. Amara could only assume those were his tools.

Ada came up along the path not too long after her.

Amara handed Luis the butterfly, perfectly intact. Ada followed suit and handed him the ink and other items. “That should be everything.”

Luis dug in his pocket, a small tube of sorts held between his fingertips. The Amber. An almost heady, painful reaction came over both women in its presence. Amara could see black veins as they crawled up the exposed skin of her hands. Her vision turned damn near kaleidoscopic. Her reaction is instinctive. Clawing at the fabric of her sleeve as if she felt the parasite squirming in her veins.

The habit wasn’t wholly unfamiliar to her. As the G infection took hold of her six years ago, she remembered the spine-tingling pain and the way her nerves almost numbed to nothing. At random intervals she’d press a hand against her right arm to feel that her touch still registered against her skin. That she hadn't been overtaken by the virus.

“Shit…the parasite must be reacting to the Amber."

"So, that's the Amber? Not exactly what I expected," Amara spoke. It was small, a mere tiny piece of what seemed to be something broken off a larger block. The parasite was minuscule within the resin of yellowish-red tree bark. Like it had been naturally occurring for quite some time.

She had only learned a few things in her trek to get the Butterfly. The castle's history was in papers that laid haphazardly all over the various rooms of this place. They clearly had no problem with letting an outsider such as Amara learn their history. The Plagas had been here, naturally occurring within the village before the cult had come to deliver what they thought was...salvation to the villagers. Of course, then, it had no name, and the villagers searched for anything that would rid them of this "plague."

Amara couldn't exactly blame them. How easy it was to go along with this lulled state of prosperity.

But, it was false. A pyrrhic victory as they had given up their free will and their bodies to something truly grotesque.

"It's coming," Ada spoke softly, a hand against her temple.

An inhuman screech came from nearby. Amara's reaction isn't physical, so much as it is visual at the sight of...she can't even begin to describe it. Its face denoted that of a bug of sorts, gnarly claws extended out from underneath the robe it wore as it towered over all three of them.

She never looked away, careful not to blink for fear of this disgusting thing lunging at them. Doesn't even flinch as this thing gets closer. Her first thought isn't even fighting this thing, it's going after that painting while she still had the chance. Clearly, it's after Ada and she guessed the suppressant could wait. Her second thought was catching up with Leon, now that Luis had recreated it, maybe she could tell him something good.

With that in mind, experiencing a brief sense of deja vu, she ran toward the Grand Hall. "We'll meet up again soon!"

"Head towards the mines!" Luis shouted back as he helped Ada away from the creature.

The Grand Hall is just as Amara expected. Though, entirely too damn quiet for her liking. An elegant chandelier hung above her head, illuminating the hall with more than enough light. Marble statues lined the path and a plush velvet blue carpet leading to the staircase laid beneath her boots. Mud now stained the carpet and for a brief second, she felt bad that such quality was ruined by it. She would have loved to spend some more time wandering this place but she had to remind herself that she was here on a mission.

Still, her eyes follow along the opulent archways, ones also cast in stainless marble.

"If I were a gallery, where would I be?" Amara posed the question to herself. She pulled from her knowledge as a high school student, the history nerd inside her surely squealing at the chance to use what others deemed "useless" information.

Castle galleries were usually nestled toward the back, better to keep their intimacy and the state of exclusivity to the ones who lived there rather than outwardly make them known.

Plus, they offered their telling of the family's lineage and history beyond just the books. Not that Amara was particularly, fervently interested in learning about whoever ran this place now (she only learned by chance), considering the zealots followed the orders of their castellan and well, their castellan didn't like guests.

That was another thing she'd learned. Ramon Salazar ran the show around here and didn't seem pleasant, based on what she read.

A Spanish nobleman, descended from centuries of warriors, born to Diego and Catalina Salazar.

She hoped she wouldn’t have to meet him, but she also wondered if Leon and Ashley had encountered him. Salazar sounded like…what was it that the servant called him? A Pulgarcito.

Fuck being impolite and imposing on his castle. Like, seriously? He threw acid on the face of one of his servants. He clearly fits right in with Los Illuminados. Catalina had allowed their influence to take hold and take hold of her son and while Amara could certainly understand the need to protect their flesh and blood, a parasite would be the last thing she'd give a child to "protect" them. Honestly, getting the chance to rid him of one painting was doing him a favor.

The gallery is not as she expected. It's actually rather nice, at least the little shit had taste in art. Like she were one to talk, just about the only thing she ever owned art-wise was a knockoff Basquiat (before it was burned to a crisp in '98) but examining the paintings, she could still see the brushstrokes and dried paint laid upon the canvasses. The smell still hit her nose...huh, oil paint.

Most people couldn't stand the scent of paint but Amara found it quite fragrant, it made her miss her set-up at her new apartment. In the corner of her bedroom meeting the slanted windows to the floor, giving her a view of the city as she would let her paintbrush across canvases.

She certainly would be committing the room to memory. Its vibrant apple-red carpets, marble flooring, and gold-framed displays were worthy on their own to be painted. Of course, they needed to get out of here alive first before that would happen.

There it is.

The painting.

All its glory laid out before her. More of a macabre display than anything else and it all was mere inches from her fingertips.

Yet, a weird feeling wriggled up her neck.

This is way too easy.

Amara quickly scanned her surroundings at every angle, God forbid a spike or something dropped down on her head.

Her first steps when encountering one of the paintings on her missions were to document them. Preferably with a camera or something. Each one of the paintings needed to be documented, not only for top brass but for record purposes.

Amara’s eyes scanned the length of the frame. Shit.

She was beginning to wish she had actually kept the mini camera from her last mission.

How in the hell could she document this?

As if a lightbulb shone above her head, she frantically ripped open the pouch (just short of tearing it apart) on her leg. If she couldn’t take a photo, she could damn well draw the picture, right?

Well, a more rudimentary version, at least.

Kneeling to the ground, she places her notepad onto her thigh. A quick once over of the painting has her examining the more basic ideas of it as she began her outline.

There wasn’t exactly the luxury of time. After a few minutes, she raises the notepad to the light. Amara turns her lips down in a judgmental manner.

Crude but good enough.

Could be better.

Now, it was time to destroy the real thing.

She managed to get the painting off the wall but she hadn’t accounted for the fact that maybe, just maybe, there had been a weight mechanism to deter thieves. The hall becomes shrouded in darkness, a particularly loud thud comes from the entrance she came from.

“Shit!” She laughed humorlessly. “This is just delightful.”

And it only seemed to get more delightful as Amara heard the heavy footsteps and shifting, grating sound of what had to be steel or iron plates.

Just as she turned around, she only had a half second before she moved out of the way of the business end of a heavy sword. Sparks from where the sword hit the floor momentarily lit up the space. Part of her wanted to take a closer look at the knight that had just reanimated to attack her but the other part of her—and frankly, the more logical—pushed herself out of its way.

Her stomach turned, a tightness constricting around her ribs as the knight wobbled and stumbled towards her, sword dragging against the carpet.

Amara conferred with herself for a moment. Clearly the darkness was a trigger for it to come to life and attack so maybe light would be just the thing to stop it? It’s at this moment that she remembered she does have weapons at her disposal, namely a flash grenade she found lying around earlier.

She quickly enacts her idea–her only idea–to toss a flash grenade near it just as it raises the sword once more to swipe at her. The room is covered in the brightness white light, briefly fucking with Amara’s vision. A disconcerting little scream (screech?) sounded off from the knight and when her eyes readjust, she finds the armor in pieces on the floor and viscera around it.

Moving closer to it, she stands over it and for some reason all that comes to mind for her to say is: “You are no knight in shining armor.”

Amara realized how stupid it sounded only afterwards in the silence, but decided not to chastise herself.

Some of Leon’s tendencies to quip had left an imprint on her brain.

With an eye roll, she stepped away from the armor and focused on the bars locking her in. In proper Indiana Jones fashion, she swiftly replaced the weight of the painting with a seemingly heavy chalice that had escaped its display during the knight’s melee. The bars lift from the entrance.

“Now,” she moved towards the sword, taking it in her hands, “time to actually destroy this painting.”

Needing no preamble, Amara plunges the sword into the canvas. Dragging the sharp sword through the image with no rhyme or reason. The artist inside her cried a little at ruining of such a nice canvas but it was for the greater good. After the painting is practically shredded, Amara can faintly hear the sound of gunshots resonating within the halls. The only answer that made sense shouted in her head. Leon and Ashley.

Dropping the sword, she propelled herself in that direction.

Amara followed the noise to find more of the castle goons were on Leon and Ashley like bees to honey. One had Leon in their clutches, choking him out while another attempted to grab at Ashley. Within moments, Amara dispatched both with efficiency.

Both drop with unceremonius thuds but that sends Leon and Ashley’s attention towards her. She can’t help but smile.

“You know, if you needed the assist…I would’ve come sooner.”

“Amara!” Ashley couldn’t fight a smile as she stepped over the bodies to meet them halfway. Leon sat on the ground, still recovering his breath. “Need a hand?”

“Thanks.” Leon took hold of her outstretched hand, pulling him up to stand once again. “Where have you been? Where’s Luis?”

She looked back towards the way she came briefly. Luis could handle Ada’s infection. Hers seemed more urgent.

“It’s a long story, really long. He said he’d meet us in the ballroom.”

Amara really didn’t want to divulge everything from start to finish in the time they’d been apart. Better to be given grief later by Leon.

“What about you two? Anything interesting?”

The pair share a look. She can only imagine what that meant. She raised her eyebrows briefly before throwing her hands up in defeat, “I’m better off not knowing. Anyways, what the hell are you two doing now?”

“Well, we’ve been trying to get a-head of the game,” Leon picks up what seems to be a golden lion statue head, his voice is deadpan, but it’s clear he’s attempting to lighten the mood.

Amara looks at Ashley, “Has he subjected you to this this whole time?”

She chuckled a tad, “Get this. He paid me a compliment not too long ago.”

“Consider me shocked, I thought Leon the Grouch over here had a heart of stone.”

It doesn’t escape Amara’s notice that a corner of Leon’s mouth slightly quirked up. But just as quick as it had come, it was gone. “If you two are done, I’d like to get a move on.”

She waved a hand at him. “Oh, don’t get your holster in a twist.”

They trailed behind Leon as he made his way back towards what seemed to be a three headed statue. Sans the one he currently held in his hands. The mechanism quietly slots into place at the final piece being attached but something about it seemed particularly off. Things couldn’t be that easy this evening.

She doesn’t hesitate to voice that. “Well…that seemed way too easy. A bit…disconcerting actually.”

As if right on cue, Ashley pointed and yelled out, “Leon! Amara! The stairs!”

Both of them follow where she pointed, finding more of those stupid zealots coming after them. Everything after that happened so quick, it almost gave her whiplash.

Her heart pounded against her chest and reverberated in her ears, though she wasn’t sure if it was sheer terror or adrenaline kicking in. A healthy mix of both, probably.

But, if there was one thing she learned in all her training, she had to do the hard things scared out of her mind.

Leon swiftly aimed his gun at them, ready to take them all on as Ashley stood closer to the pillars to give herself proper distance.

Amara followed suit with the former. Better two guns than one.

But just as quick, she heard a click from a switch and a familiar thud. A gilded cage surrounded both her and Leon. Leaving Ashley vulnerable. They were trapped.

“Run! Now!” Leon swiftly commanded through the bars to Ashley in a tone that Amara hadn’t heard from him before. (Though, to be fair, she’d never seen him in a mission setting until now).

They briefly shared a glance before turning their attention to the threat.

Two of their zealot friends had somehow joined them within the golden enclosure.

She leapt out of the way of a scythe, just barely scraping at her ankles.

Through the bars, a flaming arrow scraped against her arm. Trying not to wince, she unloaded a few rounds into the zealot with her good arm. She slid between their legs. A quick slash of a boot knife, then a disgusting spurt of red at the zealot’s ankles.

She had to be sure.

It was a shame the higher ups couldn’t see what a pair these two were. Both worked with an efficiency and a finesse even within the barrier of the enclosure.

The zealot laid at her feet, guaranteed they would not get back up. Blood seeped onto the marble floor beneath.

There was almost a deafening silence except the lock of flames emanating from torches nearby. Amara could only breathe a sigh of relief.

But, that didn’t stop her from being brought back to reality. Her arm.

Damn arrows. Amara checked the sleeve of her sweater, that fiery arrow cut through it straight to her skin. Blood sat at the surface of a fresh cut and stung more than the countless other scrapes she’d acquired over the years.

She examined the surroundings more clearly. An array of the black-robed zealots lay haphazardly around the space of the cage.

Only she and Leon remained standing.

Now Ashley had to fend for herself, something that Amara hated to think about. She briefly put herself in the girl’s shoes. Thinking about how scary this whole ordeal was without the necessary tools and training that the two of them had.

She gingerly rubbed a thumb over the wound, smearing the blood onto the inside of her sweater. It’d heal.

Just like every other wound. Part of her “experimentation” before they loosened her leash noted the G virus had granted an almost protective ability over certain types of wounds. This was one of them.

But, with the added intruder swimming in her organs, it was almost as if this ability were halted. The pain stayed and the cut still bled.

“You alright?” Leon asked, immediately taking gentle hold of her elbow to examine her. Amara found herself doing the same—something she’d been doing a lot since reuniting with the pair. Besides the mussed hair, dirt, and other grime, Leon looked just about as unscathed as when he’d first arrived. Except for the wound on his hand, she didn’t see it but one could ascertain from the blood on the grip of his gun.

“I’ll live. Just a scratch. Now, let me see your hand,” Amara held out her own. Leon scrunched his eyes in confusion. “What?”

“I’m no gun aficionado, but guns don’t make your hand bleed through a glove, Leon.” She gestured once more, “Now, hand please.”

He hesitantly placed his hand in her palm. She took her time to remove his glove, the cut through it more obvious when looked at directly. Sheesh, how’d he do that?

“Do I want to know what you did?” She asked, half joking and half serious as she met his eyes.

He scoffed, “Will it make you feel better if I tell you?”

“Hmm, maybe.”

“Ashley tried to stab me.” He stated, as if he were describing the most mundane thing like the weather or something.

“She what?”

“It’s not what you think…something…or someone took over her,” Leon looked as though he was still trying to piece it together. “I, at least, had—ah—the sense to stop her—shit—before she took an eye out.” Leon hissed as Amara rubbed alcohol along the cuts.

“All it cost you was some flesh.” Amara looked away briefly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there… to help.”

“I’m a big boy, I can fight my own battles.”

“You don’t have to fight them alone, you know? I don’t want you to,” She admitted. “Being alone, it’s not a nice feeling-”

“Amara—“

“And you won’t ever be alone. Not when you have me. Okay?”

Leon pulls away the second she finishes cleaning the wound, and a heavy sigh leaves him.

“It’s not that simple,” he spoke faintly.

“Why not?” She asked just as quietly, ready to lay it all out considering they weren’t leaving the cage anytime soon. “Why can’t it be?”

“Is this really the time for this?” Leon is cold, cutting in his tone. It’s obvious to Amara that he’s trying to deflect. The more direct, the more indirect people became, she realized.

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen you in—what? Six years? Now is as good a time as any,” She barked, she could feel herself running hot with anger. “I guess the message has been pretty clear and I was too stupid to see it.”

Leon pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes more than likely annoyed to even have the conversation especially right now.

“I stayed away for a reason, Amara, and not for whatever reason you think I have.”

“Tell me.”

“Because you deserve normal. A normal life. Normal everything.” The frustration is clear in his voice, but his voice remains at the same level.

“And you don’t?”

“Has anything since Raccoon shown that I do?” Leon gestures briefly.

“Leon, I don’t know if you’re aware but…shit’s been fucked up for me too since then. Doesn’t make the both of us any less deserving of something good.”

“I can’t take that risk. I need you to be safe.”

“From what? The world? The government? I’ve never needed protecting, Leon. I’ve needed yo—“

You. That’s what she was going to say: that after everything, she had no one to turn to. To tell about everything and that would understand and he was the one person, her person… and he wasn’t there. It devastated her in a way she couldn’t fathom. But none of that came out, because his mouth was suddenly covering hers.

Was it a way to get her to shut up or to distract her from the topic, or both?

Amara panicked at first, muscles stiffened, standing frozen, but his hand was on her cheek, the other wrapped gently around her neck, and she was suddenly kissing him back.

Her arms fervently wrapped around his shoulders, crushing her front against his. Her hands thread through his hair, messing up its carefully styled appearance, making it a bit more disheveled, but it wasn’t enough.

She wanted to dishevel all of him.

Realizing they both needed to breathe at some point, Leon pulled away first, looking down at her. The thumb on her cheek traveled to her lower lip, tracing it.

“Don’t you realize?” Leon whispered, and she watched his lips, “The reason I need to protect you so badly is because I’m in love with you?”

Her breath hitched at those words. Amara hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear them.

“I’ll be damned if I let myself be another part of your suffering. You don’t deserve that,” He repeated himself as if he were trying to convince himself more than her.

“And what do I deserve?”

“Better than me.”

“I think I can decide that for myself,” she spoke. “Leon, you’re worried about the risk, but what about the guarantees?”

“Amara-“

“Leon! Amara!” Ashley’s voice echoed from higher up. It quickly separates the two as they both search for where it came from.

Amara cracked a smile, her first in what felt like hours, though it was brief.

From her vantage point, the voice seems to come from a gated door at the nearest balcony. “Ashley? Are you okay?”

“…Yeah, hang tight, I’ll get you guys out of there!”

The sound of her boots gets farther and farther away but Amara can’t help but feel a weight lifted.

They both nod their head in understanding despite her not being able to see it. She had to give her some credit, she’s a smart cookie. She moves towards the statue, deciding to sit down for once.

“Sit with me?” Amara asked him innocently. He couldn’t do anything but oblige.

Were it any other place, not surrounded by corpses, he’d think it romantic to sit under a statue. Huh, maybe this is their romantic?

Her words made the gears turn in his head. When he sat next to her, she laid her head on his shoulder. Leon cherished any sort of contact she’d give him, god knows the last time he’d known a gentle touch.

He’d spent a lot of time alone, by choice. Having anything even remotely close to a “close” relationship with anyone was a risk. It’s probably why he’d gotten such a reputation around the office according to Hunnigan. Leon never really cared for the gossip or the attention he got.

He never really divulged anyone in his love life prior to Raccoon and after. At least, he tried to. Hunnigan certainly pestered him enough. He’d only let himself slip up once in mentioning Amara (not by name, of course).

She certainly teased him enough about it before this mission, but it was easy to tell that she worried about him. Leon would constantly wave her off, wave her off, wave her off until she gave up.

But now, Amara offered a new perspective. One he never thought to consider.

He always thought about the risks of it all and became quite familiar. What if he died on his next mission or even this one? Never got to see Amara again, something he couldn’t exactly face head-on. What about the guarantees? What if he could prove himself wrong? Do this kind of work and have someone to come home to?

Leon knew it was too soon to retire now as a government agent (not that they’d let him), but he’d imagined it—well, he didn’t imagine beyond a certain point these days. Just getting to the next day with a pulse was good enough. But a part of him—deep down—had yearned for that silly white-picket-fence life when he was more idealistic, more bushy-tailed, more the bright-eyed rookie he’d left behind in Raccoon City. Buried under the remains of a forgotten city.

He could see that now as if Amara had unlocked it from the deepest recesses of his mind. The guarantee of someone to confide in, someone happy to be with him, happy to come home with him.

“Get out of your head,” Amara nudged him with her elbow. “Is this a bad time to ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Are you…seeing anyone? You know, it’s been…six years.”

“I just kissed you and said I’m in love with you, is that not answer enough?”

“Maybe? People kiss people all the time—“

Leon sighed. “No, I’m not. You?”

“Don’t laugh. But no.” A strange giddiness came over him at this information. But still, he found it insane that that was even the case. Her? Of all people?

“No? I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“Why? Look at you, any man would be insane to not kiss the ground that your feet walk on.”

“Huh, then would that make you insane?”

Damn. She had him there.

“That’s debatable.” Her laugh is brief, it’s nice. Leon wished he could bottle it up.

“Fucked up circumstances aside, this is good.”

“Yeah.” His reply is terse.

“How have you been?” Leon stares straight ahead, genuinely thinking about the question. But something inside wants to retract, dial it back in fear of revealing too much. Vulnerability isn’t exactly his strong suit. Too much of his life had become classified information.

Awful. Terrible. Like nothing seems right.

“I’m alive, usually counts for something,” he quipped.

“It does, so working directly under Graham, huh? How’d you manage that?”

“Well, they asked me and I couldn’t exactly say no.”

Amara nodded in understanding. She knew too well but he couldn’t fault her for asking. More curiosity nagged at him for what she had been doing for six years. He knew that she’d become a top agent but not exactly how that came to be. Training, a few covert ops, and Operation Javier all came to mind for himself.

He shuddered to think what they’d had her doing. What about the past six years was fucked up for her?

“So, uh…what about you?”

She looked away. “I’m sure you’ve read the file.”

He noticed her blinking rapidly as if she were trying to clear something from her vision.

“A file only says so much.” Leon ran a hand across her forehead, still checking that she was okay. “Jesus, you’re burning up.”

“Damn parasite.” She cursed, leaning into his touch. “Your hands are still cold.”

That alone made Leon become more alert, and back into focus mode. She felt unnaturally, uncomfortably warm. He abruptly stood up, carefully pulling Amara up with him so that could better assess her. Holding her face between his palms, he scanned every inch of it even as her brow furrowed in obvious confusion.

“Everything okay?”

“I hope so.”

That's when he noticed a brief twitch and almost jerk, he had to catch her before she all but collapsed to the floor. He recognized it, the parasite had to be working hard to take Amara down. He hated to call it a shield, but considering the G virus, she still looked just as sorry as the rest of them but it had to be fighting just as hard to keep her at "optimal" performance. Like a machine.

She dug a hand into his bicep, eyes scrunched close while her other hand pressed against her temple. She’d been having the visions too, seeing and hearing that hooded figure in her head. Trying to lure her in with his almost sinister, charming words.

Leon could only wonder what he’d been filling her head with. Whatever it was, it was bullshit.

Amara seemed as though she had come up for air, the vision had passed. “Give me a fucking break.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Leon sighed, turning his head in the direction of where Ashley had called out to them. He really hoped that she was alright. For now, he basked in the closeness with Amara, curling his fingers around hers briefly.

Something about it was strange…foreign almost.

Physical touch didn’t exactly fit into his busy schedule. Which in hindsight is incredibly…sad (something that Hunnigan doesn’t fail to remind him of).

“Leon?” Amara softly spoke.

“Hm?”

She snickers a bit to herself, “I may have fibbed a bit earlier.”

He furrows his brows, turning his attention from watching the outer perimeters of the cage to her. “About?”

“Dating someone.”

Leon’s response is swift. “Don’t tell me anything.”

Amara jokingly scoffed. “Seriously? Why? Think you’ll get jealous?”

“I won’t bullshit you and say I wouldn’t…because I would, insanely.” And it’s the truth. Leon always thought honesty is the best policy but that doesn’t stop the slight heat creeping up his neck in embarrassment.

“Well, rest assured, it’s much like the antiques in this castle. Ancient history.”

“How thoughtful of you to tell me,” Leon deadpanned. Much like with their resident Spanish heartthrob, Leon couldn’t exactly stomach the thought of anyone else wrapped up in Amara’s arms. Besides, right now, they needed to get out of this cage.

“Now, can you focus?”

“Hey, you’re the boss here,” Amara put her hands up in surrender with a knowing smirk.

Just then, Leon could faintly hear footsteps from above. Of course, neither he nor Amara were aware their momentary reprieve was coming to an end.

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beauzos · 5 months

Text

WIP snippet time, cause idk. I want to get back to working on this one eventually, but I'm not certain when this will be.

This is a fic about Nahyuta, 10 years old, trying to cope with Amara coming into his life shortly after Apollo is forced to leave, and the mess that comes with it.

Lotta discussion of gender dysphoria. Referenced gore in the opening passage. Opening passage is rather jarring tonally with the rest but it's intentional and it's going somewhere, probably. You can tell I wrote this while reading or shortly after finishing Wandering Stars by Tommy Orange because of the strategic use of run-on sentences, lol.

Anyways, here's all I've got for The Year of Silence.

In those days, when everything was chaos, all the adults shouted and roared like territorial warbaa’ds, trying to make themselves be the most heard, the most understood, the most followed. Father is still the warbaa’d at the front of the pack. His glare paralyzes even you as you creep among the pickets of people packed into cramped headquarters like pickled fish, your tiny frame hardly noticed at all. In those days, after Apollo is sent away to protect him from harm, after you’ve seen everything long before you were ever meant to, after your father’s rough, calloused hand clamps over your eyes a second too late as they feast upon the scene of a man’s skull cracked open like an egg, leaving splotches of red and grey brain matter unspooled and strewn across the earth, wetting with the blood of martyrs, after you can no longer stop yourself from seeing his split skull behind your eyes every time you lay down to sleep and rise up screaming, you seem to vanish entirely from your father’s vision. Even when you are right in front of him, he cannot see you. It starts out as a blessing, but when you realize you can’t make yourself visible again, you realize the weight of the curse.

You are ten years old.

Nahyuta comes in from the pouring rain, drenched from head to toe. His shoulder-length silvery hair feels like a weight on his head and his shirt and shorts cling uncomfortably to his skin, making him too aware of his clothes, enough to make his skin crawl. He rounds the corner past the hall to the living room-office makeshift combination, strewn with papers, legal books, and newspapers with stories of Dragons arrested, murdered, martyred. On the couch is his mother, cradling her not-yet swollen belly that she frets over so much already, though she isn’t showing, but everyone seems to treat her so carefully—or more carefully than before—at the behest of the baby, a tiny little cashew-sized infant Nahyuta pictures as floating in ether, waiting for its moment to emerge. Yet he also can’t picture it as ever being born, not that she would miscarry, but that everything would stay frozen in time before the baby takes its first breath.

It was wishful thinking. Things were changing every day, and all Nahyuta wanted was for everything to go back to the way it once was. Before his mother came home. Before she fell pregnant. Before Apollo was sent away, before—

Amara jolts with a little yelp, pressing her hand over her heart, marred by burn scars, and smiles shakily. “O Holy Mother, Nahyuta, you scared me,” she laughs in that breathless, uncomfortable way. “I always forget how quiet you are, little mouse.”

Nahyuta reluctantly draws closer to her. He has to pass her to get to his bedroom. As he does, she notices how soaked he really is, and clucks her tongue. “Poor thing. You were out playing, weren’t you, dear? Come. Let’s change and get dried off, okay?”

She stands, holds out her hand. Nahyuta stares at it, and she shakes it a little for emphasis. She doesn’t often take no for an answer. She’s so overbearing, like she forgot he wasn’t a toddler anymore and had grown in the years since she’d seen him last. The words sit motionless on his tongue: I can do it myself. I’m not a baby. As always, nothing comes out, so, instead, he takes her warm hand in his as she guides him towards the bathroom. She leaves for a second, comes back with fresh clothes, a blouse and skirt. Nahyuta despairs at the sight of it, but Amara doesn’t notice the looks—or, if she does, chooses to ignore them—and instead gets started on drying off his hair with an aggressive use of the towel that leaves his hair messily tousled and tangled. Nahyuta grabs the offered clothes and holds them to his chest.

“My dear, you’re going to get your dry clothes wet that way,” Amara sighs. Nahyuta doesn’t relent, but instead backs up towards the tub with it, his gaze averted towards the grimy tiled floors. Amara comes closer and snatches the clothes back out of his hands, examining the splotches of wet all over his shirt now with another click of her tongue. “Well, go on. You don’t want to stand in those horrible wet clothes, do you?” Nahyuta hesitates. “Do you want privacy, my dear?”

Nahyuta nods his head fervently. Yes. Yes, very much so, he thinks.

Amara relents for once. She sets his clothes aside on the sink. “Shy girl,” she teases, tracing her finger along his cheek. “Well, show me when you’re done. You’ll look so pretty with the clothes I got you, huh, beti?”

Nahyuta chooses not to respond at all. Amara just sighs again and steps out of the bathroom, the door that never shuts exactly right softly clicking behind her. He combs his hair, pulling at the tangles that easily form when he isn’t careful, then peels the clothes off, dries with the towel, and reluctantly dresses. The dry clothes are a nice reprieve, but that’s all. The skirt comes last, and when he’s finally got it on, Nahyuta examines himself in the mirror with a pout. He can’t climb or play in this. It’s hard not to want to take everything right off and pick out his own clothes like he usually does. But if he does, then Amara will be upset, then she’ll tell Dhurke, then Dhurke will tell him to play nice because she’s his mother and she loves him so much and just wants to bond with him so please just wear the skirts and dresses she got sometimes when she asks and isn’t it so nice that he finally has a mother again so there’s someone who understands what it’s like to be a girl?

Then comes Amara’s knock on the door. “Are you finished, dear?” Nahyuta takes a breath and opens the door, and Amara smiles. “What were we doing in here? Admiring your outfit?”

Nahyuta glances down like it’s the first time he’s noticed his clothes, like he hasn’t been painfully aware of them this whole time. Amara plants her hands on his shoulders and herds him towards her and Dhurke’s bedroom. Parking him in front of the full-body mirror, Amara stands behind him, running her fingers through his hair. She pinches a thick strand of wet hair and kneads it.

“I like that you’re growing out your hair. I think you’ll look lovely with long hair.” Amara smiles in a self-satisfied way, like she had anything to do with it. “Look at you. We look so much alike already.”

She kneels so she’s closer to Nahyuta’s face, comparing her face with his in the mirror. Nahyuta could admit that he found that to be a comforting thing, more comforting than he supposed either of his parents guessed. Far as anyone knew, Nahyuta simply resented her, or was intimidated by her, or just couldn’t bring himself to bond with her. Which was true to an extent, but it wasn’t like Nahyuta hadn’t spent many nights praying, wishing his mother was still alive because she looked so beautiful and so kind and so smart and so much like him, something he’s never been able to say about anyone else because he has albinism he inherited from her so he doesn’t look like Dhurke even a little bit but Dhurke says it’s a blessing that he looks so much like his mother, like he can be her legacy even though she’s dead, but now they know she was never dead in the first place, so where does that leave Nahyuta?

Perhaps he’s supposed to be her shadow. Nahyuta has caught Dhurke looking at the both of them many a time with that knowing grin, one Nahyuta hasn’t yet been able to parse the meaning of quite yet. He knows something his child doesn’t, but whether Amara is in on it or not isn’t yet clear. Sometimes, it seems like she is. Other times, she looks just as lost here as Nahyuta is. She’s come from a gilded cage, trapped for nearly ten years in the confines of the kingdom’s palace at the demand of Ga’ran—his aunt, not that Dhurke ever dared bring up Nahyuta’s blood relation to her like it was poison, sins of the father and all, though more aptly sins of the aunt, the supposed only living link on Nahyuta’s mother’s side. But now that Amara is back, he supposes they can all forget about the familial guilt he’s supposed to feel for daring to be Amara’s child and therefore Ga’ran’s nibling, not that Dhurke ever said he should be guilty, but that was the impression Nahyuta always had.

The family Nahyuta had before Amara had always been makeshift anyway. That was the meaning of family; not blood, but the people you chose to be around. Dhurke was his father, his real father, and that meant a lot when the rest of their family was dead or wishing death on them, but Apollo was his sibling without having to be born into the family. (S)he didn’t look anything like Dhurke or Nahyuta either, but that was a comfort to Nahyuta. Apollo didn’t have to look like anybody to be a daughter, a sister, a sibling, a brother (only in secret, only when Nahyuta and Apollo were playing together).

No one ever doubted Nahyuta was anything but Dhurke Sahdmadhi’s child. He had a stubborn streak and a passion for everything he cared for, one that burned him up so badly that sometimes all he could think about was the things he loved most. Just like Dhurke. And although adults never meant anything bad by giggling at Nahyuta for just how different he was from Dhurke—so pasty, like he’d blend in with snow! A different shade of green eyes! A different smile, a different laugh, so quiet, so innocent—it always stung more than he would admit to anyone.

But Dhurke always reminded anybody within earshot that Nahyuta was his kid, couldn’t you see that? Don’t see you how much of that Sahdmadhi passion and fight she’s got in her? And for once, it didn’t feel so bad to be Dhurke Sahdmadhi’s daughter, even if the word burned like a branding every other time he heard it. But whenever his father said it, it sounded right, like whatever Dhurke said was so. It was a proud thing to be. He could find room in his heart to be a daughter because Dhurke always saw him as Nahyuta first. Amara was so swept up in the idea of a child itself that she seemed to forget Nahyuta was real, not just a concept of a daughter she’d been daydreaming about daily for years on end, waiting for her chance to see Nahyuta again. Dhurke told him not to blame her for her overzealous excitement. Anyone would be at the thought of seeing their baby again.

Nahyuta didn’t disagree. He’d been dreaming of a day like this himself, hadn’t he? But it felt… wrong. Dhurke seemed to dance around what he knew was lying just beyond the light of Amara’s return, creeping in the shadows. Apollo was gone. Just a month, maybe a month and a half before Amara came home. And then Amara was there, and then she was pregnant, and isn’t Nahyuta excited to be a big sister?

But I was already a big sister, Nahyuta objected in his head. What about Apollo?

It was like Dhurke forgot about Apollo entirely, like the lack of safety was a mere excuse to get Apollo out of the way for Amara and the to-be-determined baby sibling. Nahyuta knew it wasn’t a lie. That day will forever be burned into his brain. A massacre that Dhurke, Nahyuta, and Apollo walked into unknowingly. Dhurke tried to get the kids away from there as quickly as possible, but it wasn’t quick enough. Nahyuta had seen it all, the overpowering stench of rot clinging to his nostrils for days after. He was the first to stumble upon the dead body of a man whose skull was cracked open by Ga’ranists, the signpost for a massacre just beyond him in the Dragons’ hideout. Datz ushered him and Apollo away after the sight of the blood filled his vision, but when Nahyuta furtively snuck a look back as Dhurke entered the hideout, and he saw more bodies strewn about carelessly inside.

#psy's no punctuation posts #writing tag #aa tag #this is also written with the challenge of giving Nahyuta virtually no dialogue aside from internal thoughts #as i said last night i was cookin with this KRKF #i really like how this is written i just haven't been motivated to get back #i need to get back to The Pawn as well which i intend to. at some point soon #just hard to get started

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rockybloo · 9 months

Note

Any update on the flavor four civilian names, also does Amara or any beloved have a last name yet? I ask cause I had a dream about a bunch of characters I like being teachers for some reason and I walked by BB's class, I don't know what he was teaching but his room was ALL pink.

Bitterbat's the only Flavor Four with a civilian name and it's "Ace"

And Sweetheart is the only Beloved with a full name and it's "Amara Hartman"

Bitterbat refuses to give himself a last name because he wants Sweetheart's after learning that people often take their partner's when they get married.

As for teacher Bitterbat...Lord knows what that man's lesson plan would be.

Feel like he'd teach Biology or Art...but he always uses pink for art lessons.

As for "Why Biology?" that man is made up of so much shit but he also is highly aware of how other critters work.

#ask #ask: glitter and guilt #ask: Bitterbat #Bitterbat's dream adventures

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httpknjoon · 2 years

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“JIN CROSSED HIS ARMS” This is what i’ve been reduced to trying to read their body language because we have nothing and so much at the same time all these theories and 😭😭😭😭 - just read the Y/N qs 2! She learned the piano and how to knit that’s so cute omg

question for both:

“ What do you think of all the articles written of yourselves? for jin, going out with people and having rumours begin straight away? and for y/n having assumptions about why she’s on a break? do you try not to think about it or deal with it by, for example writing?”

Thank you! 🖤

we have nothing and so much at the same time

note | 😭😭 oh, anon. sometimes I do leave something in their body language, so I guess you'll get something there 💀 anyway, thank you so much for sending questions! ❤️

main masterlist | drabble series

"It's a bummer, really." Jin laughed. "But I think it's part of being a public figure. Everything that we will do will be watched and judged by everyone around us. People, particularly the media, don't care about privacy."

"The articles that were written about us are often exaggerated and supported by unreliable sources. It sucks because the media loves to make everything an issue. It honestly makes socializing or even making new friends hard. Also, we have to be careful about who to approach. You tell someone one thing and the next thing you know, you have a rumor going around everywhere. It's hard to trust people in this industry." he laughed again, shaking his head.

"It can be suffocating but I just got used to it really. I try to go on with my life casually. I know I cannot stop these news sites to make these articles about me and all I can do is probably do whatever I'm doing. And if the gossip starts to affect my personal life, I'll gladly do something to at least lessen the damage."

"Oh, man. I'm tired of them. They have been around ever since I was a kid." you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "I was fifteen when I had my first pregnancy rumor from a teen magazine and it affected me a lot before. So, when the pregnancy gossip came after I announced my break, I don't really care anymore."

"People can think whatever they want to think. Especially since I didn't leave any reason why I took a hiatus. It was unexpected, I'm aware." you laughed.

"But it's fine. I don't really think about the assumptions anymore. Sometimes, it can ruin a good day for me. But I just deal with it by doing my hobbies. I shift my attention to something else that would make me calm and happy."

taglist rules

THE A-LISTERS TAGLIST

@seolaquotes @jub-jub @yoontaethings @kissme-ornot @sleepy-daydreams @veronawrites @cuteipat @ratherbefangirling @babystarcandy-gcf @akirawhore @alpacaparkaseok @rjsmochii @lovesickbangtan @zealouslightcookiebasketball @rapmonie2047 @btsiguess-kpop @angelarin @walkinganxiety0 @bloopkook @yoooonie @amara-mars @firesighgirl @zwiehe @hiii-priestess @lojocas @juju-227592 @singukieee @eshtravagent @canarystwin

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @miyukihoshi @stopeatread

#mai answers #the a listers:ask #the a listers ksj #actor!jin #bts jin #jin fluff #jin x reader #jin au #seokjin x reader #seokjin fanfiction #seokjin fluff #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts crack #bts series #bts au #bts fanfic #bts drabble

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shallowseeker · 1 year

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I'm sorry to be dumb, but did I miss something? Who is Hokmah?

That was just a little detour Jack-rambling with a friend. :-)

For the little girl that appears in the Occultum garden in 15x13 Destiny's Child, I was trying to think of a cosmic force she could represent that isn't Eve, and I landed on a personification of Hokhmah/Hokmah/Chokmah, "Lady Wisdom."

You didn't miss anything. She's not called that in the show! @13x02 and I were just playing with the idea over here. :D

You'll get a decent condensed Western overview here on Cengage that I like pretty well, but "she's" a complicated theological point of interest if you wanna crawl through more academic scholarly sources.

I think you can shape her in a very positive way. Jack saw Wisdom! He regained his Soul!

////

But on a darker note, I think a negative view of Lady Wisdom has enormously evil implications for the destruction of the Cas-Dean-Jack family unit in the finale, leaving only Sam's "pure, idealized, almost Noah-esque" family in its wake.

In terms of poetry, Lady Wisdom can signify the idea of a perfect woman and ideal mate. As a point of contrast, the non-ideal mate is depicted as "the path of the Strange Woman," who carries you into Folly."

Both the wife and Wisdom protect their mates from the dangerous "strange woman," who lures the unsuspecting man into sexual misadventure (Prv. 5:20–23, 7:5–23, cf. 2:26–19). Social commentary regarding proper family bonds finds expression here...

I think that's echoed in 15x17 Unity's horrific depiction of Seraphina and Adam, who make out incessantly, are stoned out of their minds, and obsessed with Revenge and Fate. Adam even gives birth to an unnatural "revenge-baby" whose intent is Destruction. It's God who's supposed to yank out ribs and do Divine Fatherhood, not angels.

Now, in actuality, there's noting wrong with a little PDA or getting high, but Adam and Seraphina's sudden intrusion into the story combined with Chuck's apparent knowledge of the rib-bomb ("Have fun watching him [Jack] die.") seems ominous.

I think the grotesque caricatures of Seraphina-Adam reveal what Chuck truly thinks about the Dean-Cas partnership. (Of course, Chuck takes no responsibility for driving Seraphina and Adam to their desperation either...)

Anyway, Seraphina is Folly. So is Cas. It's true that Cas and Dean are in a pretty negative feedback loop at this point in the story, but Chuck, as usual, is painting it in rip-roarin' 2D. With a dash of disrespectful disdain.

Other poems use the female imagery to constitute competing superhuman forces. The path of the strange woman, who appears as personified Folly in the concluding poem of Proverbs 1–9, leads to death: "her guests are in the depths of Sheol" (Prv. 9:18, cf. 2:18–19, 5:5–6, 5:23, 7:27). Wisdom, in contrast, offers life, an offer whose credibility is enhanced by the remarkable poem in Proverbs 8.

So, here is Chuck's judgment, perhaps. Cas is a rival superhuman force that is unnaturally taking Dean away from Him. (Early in season 15, Lilith tells us that Chuck has "a pervy obsession" with Dean, so it's a very unsettling tug-of-war here.) Cas might even be aware of it, as he uses the alias Clarence Worley in 15x06, post-Chuck confrontation (and Cas has become pretty pop-culture savvy).

It's a power struggle. Chuck paints his rival-God sons as the "Strange Women" to His Own Divine Ultimate Fatherhood, the same way he brands Michael as "cuck." Chuck does not tolerate individualism from his sons, and so uses emasculating language. Furthermore, he does not value feminine three-dimensionality, as shown by how he treats Amara’s wisdom. She too is painted “Strange,” because his perspective of individuals rings hollow. Amara does not fit Chuck’s restrictive, mental stereotype of Hokmah.

In the finale, Dean is "Chuck-downgraded" from the masculine Adam to the Woman in the Gray Robe, and then, her tongue gets cut out. (Chuck’s “mirrors” usually favor Dean as the masculine Marlboro man.) It's...hmmm. Quite sadistic, really, what happens to Dean. It shows how 2D and hierarchical Chuck treats gender. Also, Dean loved Cas. If Dean didn't love Cas back, this death would have been more heroic and less...maudlin and back-stabby, I think. (There’d have been no need for bury your gays.)

In terms of modern society, Cas is actually more strange than Seraphina. He's a superhuman force in the shape of a man. He's diametrically opposed to Chuck's idea of Hokhmah, which is in fact the Idea of Blurry Wife. Chuck wants traditional, picture-perfect wives: he wants Lisa and Amelia and fake!Mary and Blurry Wife. Not strange women like Rowena or Eileen or worse—ursurper figures like Lucifer, Michael, Castiel, or Jack.

I clumsily talk about this idea of the Nephilim family unit in the tablet meta as well as the idea of joining/sundering Heaven and Earth in this forbidden love meta, but I think what I want to say is that Cas represents both the poetic specter of Strange Path/Folly and the Corrupt Idea of the Unnatural, Enochian Sire of a Nephilim.

Some believe the fallen angels who sired the Nephilim were cast into Tartarus (2 Peter 2:4, Jude 1:6) (Greek Enoch 20:2), a place of "total darkness."

Sounds a lot like the Empty, huh?

///

Is Blurry Wife Chuck's approved idea of Hokmah? Perhaps. Seems like The Perfect Sam-Fam is network-approved!

It's a twisted idea, isn't it? That the "impure" Nephilim family was Washed Away leaving only this bizarrely cookie-cutter, picturesque one in its wake. Jack was born on Washaway beach, and Dean and Cas became increasingly paired with flood and water motifs as the relationship escalated.

So anyway, this negative view of Lady Wisdom can in fact carry us all the way through the finale and the destruction of the human-angel Nephilim family unit. Because of this, the finale echoes on a homophobic note that reverberates through most who see it, even when they can't put their finger on why it feels that way.

Cas, Jack, and Dean are buried.

Cas is thrown into the Empty/Darkness, like the legendary Fallen Sires of the Nephilim. (He even exits through a punishment symbol, a pair of handcuffs.) Jack becomes like the Nephilim before him, a cursed untethered spirit, barred from existing in an earthly body. Then, there's Dean, the human partner, who is stabbed in the back in a brutal Execution and cursed to wander in search of the connection he is disallowed from having (that's what The Winchesters feels like, no?).

It's wicked.

///

Further reading:

This has a nice chapter on Hokhman, which goes into some of the root words used in the poems themselves. (It's chapter 6.)

Above excerpt from "Ḥokhmah ." Encyclopedia of Religion. Encyclopedia.com. 22 Aug. 2023 <https://www.encyclopedia.com>

#asks #spn + lady wisdom #spn + hokhmah #spn + hokmah #spn final #the cas vs chuck battle royale theory

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cherryblossomforest · 4 months

Text

I'm a mess man

I confided in my cousin about how Amara has been harming us and she told me that if it ever got too far she'd come and get me... no questions asked and that felt nice to be able to tell someone. She also gave me some self-care tips too which I didn't even think about. I've also had to get my cousin to track me like a cat because of how unstable our switching is and how scared I am that someone is going to put us in danger... so we literally have an app where she can always see where I am at all times. That's how terrified I am rn.

I kept myself awake for like 30 hours the other day because I was so scared to sleep too and I'm just so over all of this now. I'm so tired of having this disorder and feeling so unwell. It's not fair and I'm so tired. Like it's so mentally draining to be so hyper aware of just how damaging these parts are.

I decided to get out of the house today because I was so scared and tired and upset and went to a nature reserve an hour and a bit outside of London. It was very nice and needed and I felt like I could breathe for even a little bit and then on the drive back home I could literally feel these parts around and got so sad and started crying but my cousin called me because she was looking at where I was going, heard me cry and then told me to come to her house so at least I'm not alone...

#shouting in the forest

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thehighladywrites · 9 months

Text

— “ an unexpected twist ”

⋆˙⟡ pairing: professor eris vanserra x reader, part 3

⋆˙⟡ summary: you spend every weekend at eris’s mansion, what happens this time? Who is Eris Vanserra and how come he is so rich on a professors salary? GASP A PLOT TWIST

⋆˙⟡ warnings: mentions of smut, tw talks of beron vanserra🤢, abusive childhood, eris dropping huge stacks of money on you, eris channeling his inner sugar daddy, you call him daddy for the first time ever, mentions of an unalive body.

⋆˙⟡ amara’s note: i’m not going to lie the plot twist is either a banger or the messiest thing i’ve ever written (pls be a banger)

part 1, part 2

In the gentle morning light, you lay there in his bed, your lover's bed, serenely unaware of him, enchanted by the sight of you.

Eris had been awake for hours, yet the idea of leaving the cocoon of your warmth never crossed his mind. He marveled at the sheer luck of having someone as incredible as you in his life.

Last night, he came to the realization that he had started to feel mushy and in love with you. The thought still rattled him, and he couldn't shake the slight wariness that you held the power to influence his feelings.

Feelings, thoughts, and open discussions were never entertained in the Vanserra household. Eris and his brothers had been raised by their abusive father, who subjected them to verbal, physical, and emotional abuse. Their father manipulated them into accepting and believing whatever suited his agenda.

Through the passing years, Eris had finely tuned his act as the heartbreakingly cold and scornful eldest son. The mask of cruelty clung to him so persistently that he found himself questioning if it was a facade or a painful reflection of his true self.

When his old man kicked the bucket, Eris felt like a ton of bricks was off his back – turns out, it was just an act. Now, with the nosy observer out of the picture, he went all out decorating his room, something he couldn't do growing up. At firat he felt stupid for being happy about being able to change his room because it was something so normalized but he realized how much it healed his inner child. No more walking on eggshells; he could finally kick back. Where did he celebrate his first taste of freedom? The same bar where he first bumped into you.

Grinning at the notion, Eris not only shed a heavy burden but also welcomed newfound brightness into his life. He was determined not to mess things up in any way.

Fully aware that his actions were objectively wrong, Eris couldn't muster the will to change course. He had succumbed to love, a fertile ground for obsession. While he concealed that side for now, he knew it would eventually surface.

The gentle stir in his arms brought Eris back to the present. A warm feeling enveloped his heart as he looked down at you, tenderly running his fingers through your hair, savoring the sweet moment.

Bending down, Eris pressed a gentle kiss on your head, catching the sweet aroma of the strawberry-scented shampoo you insisted he use. Amused by the fact that his hair had never been smoother, he looked at you with a smile.

“Good morning, sweetheart. Want to do something fun today?” he suggested.

Excited, you sat up straight, a huge grin on your face, eager for some fun. When you asked him what he had in mind, Eris leaned in, maintaining eye contact, and handed you a black card with a hint of mystery.

“Go crazy,” he smirked, settling in with his glasses, preparing to read the book laying on the nightstand.

You stared at the black card and then at him. The question lingered – how did a professor end up with a black card? Weren't those reserved for big spenders and invite-only privileges?

“There's no need to be shy, love. Ask whatever it is you want to ask,” he reassured you, a knowing smile playing on his lips. Your cheeks warmed at how well he seemed to know you.

“How are you so rich? I mean, no offense, but I thought professors and teachers weren’t really that... well-off,” you inquired, genuine curiosity in your voice.

“I'm not only a professor, beautiful. I worked at my father’s company before he passed, and now I’m the owner and the CEO. Teaching is just a side job,” he explained, shedding light on his financial standing.

“Oh, I didn’t expect that. So what do you do?” you asked.

“Investment banking,” he replied quickly, not seemingly open to having a conversation about it.

You didn’t really know what that meant but you also really didn’t care. He had money and you were gonna spend it.

“Huh, okay. Does that mean I can buy whatever I want?” you tilted your head at him, a teasing expression on your face with slightly raised eyebrows.

“You can buy whatever you want. Start off by adding the card to your Apple Pay wallet. I want to pay for whatever it is you need. Don’t worry about anything anymore, my love.”

He kissed your forehead, and the gesture made your vision slightly blurry. Eris took such good care of you, and the desire to make him proud lingered in your heart. Wanting to lightheartedly joke with him you tell him how much he reminds you of a dominating sugar daddy.

“Yeah? A dom sugar daddy, huh? How about you come here and give me something sweet, then?”

His taunting voice almost turned your brain to mush. This dynamic was entirely new and felt amazing. Eris embodied a provider, protector, and lover, all in one. No more worrying about the bare minimum or small things – he treated you like a queen. Unlike people your age, he didn't play games or ask for something in return for his gestures; it was a standard for him, a refreshing change.

You were well aware that Eris's fucking would leave you in need of a nap, so you decided to playfully tease him now, saving the rest for later.

“I promise to give you something real sweet after I’m done shopping, daddy.”

Damn. You knew you should’ve saved it for later. The man grabbed your giggling form and quickly turned it into moans, whimpers and sobs.

—

Obviously and sadly you couldn’t go outside together and shop so you had to order things online, but it was fine because it was so much more convenient this way. With a few clicks, your numerous packages arrived. Was it rude to order so much on someone else’s card? Hmm… maybe for regular people, but not for you. The man had a black card aka no fucking limit. You could buy literally anything and it would go through. So you did what any sane person with an unlimited budget did.

You shopped your ass off.

Clothes, makeup, skincare, books – you turned his doorstep into a glam runway. Nails, lashes, hair appointments – basically, you scheduled a spa day for yourself via delivery. Waxes, new phone case, upgraded computer – you were basically giving your whole life a makeover. Better shoes, nicer bag – You didn't just shop; you leveled up your entire wardrobe.

When you saw the damage of your shopping spree in his living room your cheeks heated as you looked at him with an apologetic smile.

But Eris wasn’t mad, not in the slightest. There was truly no better feeling than being able to spoil you. He loved your facial expressions when you saw something that caught your eye, loved the way your eyes sparkled when you saw a cute piece of jewelry that you just had to have. Your unapologetic way of spending his money was such a turn on for him. You sure showed him how much you appreciate him…

—

The weekend with Eris was almost over, and the thought of going back to school didn't sit well with you. Being with him felt comfortable and safe, away from potentially judgmental eyes and consequences. Now, you had to act like he's just another professor, dealing with thirsty whispers from fellow students that made your fists tighten. And don't get started on Professor Jensen – despite your warnings, she still managed to hover around Eris. Guess you’d just prove your words weren’t just words and that being around Eris would give her consequences. The return to the school routine felt like a looming storm, and you weren't looking forward to it.

You voiced your concerns to him and he gave you comfort and promised that you’d be spending more time with each other next weekend and all weekends forward.

After your final night routine, you fall asleep together, finding comfort and warmth in each other's embrace. The room quieted down, and your drift off into a peaceful slumber.

—

However, the peace was short-lived. Hearing a muffled thud, you attempted to snuggle closer to Eris, only to find his heated presence absent. Sitting up, you assumed he might be in the bathroom. As minutes passed without his return, worry crept in, and the realization hit you – you had grown accustomed to his warmth, and now, sleep seemed impossible without him by your side.

You got a blanket and wrapped it around you, got into the fuzzy slipper he got you and went to look for him.

Shirtless, Eris stood there, speaking harshly into his phone. Another male voice emanated from the speaker, filled with concern and fear.

“I won't repeat myself. The deal happens tomorrow night, or you will face consequences. Inquire with your father. Oh, wait, that’s right, you can't.”

Eris's voice turned taunting and cruel, unlike the playful teasing you were familiar with. This was a cold demeanor you hadn't seen before, a stark departure from the Eris you had grown accustomed to.

“Eris?”

His entire body froze, not expecting to see you awake. He prayed to every god and whatever people prayed to these days that the man on the phone didn't hear your voice. Because there was no telling what he’d do if he found out Eris had a weak spot. He reminded the man of what he said and hung up before turning around and going back into the warm Eris you knew.

“What are you doing up, princess? It's 2 in the morning,” he smiled so warmly and softly at you, it nearly made you forget your words.

“I couldn’t sleep without you. What’s going on? You sounded angry, is everything okay?”

He looked at you with tenderness, grabbing your cheeks before kissing you softly.

“It was just one of my employees at the company who had been slacking off a bit. Don’t worry about me, my love. Let’s get you back to bed.”

You nodded at him, lifting your arms in a sleepy gesture for him to lift you up. With a chuckle and no difficulty, he complied.

Eris cradled your head in the crook of his neck, strategically shielding your view. Unbeknownst to you, his men worked silently in the background, discreetly cleaning up the dead body. He fervently prayed that your drowsiness kept you oblivious to the grim details.

Crossing his fingers, Eris also hoped the presence of his gun on the nearby table escaped your notice in the dimly lit room.

🏷️ taglist: @teenageeggscissorslawyer @daycourtofficial @nocasdatsgay @vellichor01 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @rowaelinsdaughter @meshellexplosionmurder @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @candyjaypoppins @natashachelsea @whatthefuckshappeningrn @acourtofbatboydreams

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puddingvalkyrie · 1 year

Text

The Midnight Oil Café

(Working title)

The girl walked in and looked around. It was pretty cosy in here; bright, patterned curtains, chunky wooden furniture. Every table had a little vase of flowers and a candle. The light would fade soon, and she was surprised the café was open this late.

“Sorry to come in so close to closing time,” she apologised. “How long do I have? I don’t want to get in your way...”

“All night,” came the answer. The barista turned around and leaned on the counter. He flicked a strand of his curly, black fringe out of his dark brown eyes. “We’re open ‘til dawn.” He flashed her a smile. “What’ll it be?”

“How much is your cheapest drink?” the girl asked. She looked around for a menu. There was a blackboard propped up on the counter, but it had no prices.

“Oh, it doesn’t work like that,” the man gave her another smile, this time showing his teeth. They were pointed. “We give you a drink, you give us a drink.” He leaned on the counter with both elbows, chin in both hands. “How about it?”

“Uh...”

“NO. No!” came a loud objection from a room behind the counter. A woman wrapped in colourful shawls with a cloud of chestnut hair tied in a high ponytail emerged with her hands on her hips. “We said we’re not doing that!”

“But the customers expect it!” the barista complained, standing back up.

“Don’t be fooled,” the woman addressed the girl. She took the man’s chin in one hand while she pointed at him with the other. “He’s not a suave, sexy vampire, he’s a DISASTER.”

“I can relate...” the girl said, before she could stop herself. “To the disaster part, at least...”

“It’s free,” the woman said. “IF you want to become a blood donor, great, we’re looking. If you don’t, you don’t. The two things are unconnected. What’ll it be?”

“It’s... It’s really free?”

“100%.”

“I’ll just take a mudleaf infusion please.”

“You got any special dietary requirements?” the woman asked. “Allergies?”

“No. Um, I’ve had mudleaf before... no issues.”

The girl sat in a corner. The sun was setting. She’d known this place had vampires, but this wasn’t how they usually worked... They were supposed to fly around at night and if you had a thing for vampires or whatever possessed people to become donors, you stood on your balcony in the evening. As far as she was aware, they didn’t bring tea and crumpets to the occasion. Bit hard to carry, when you’re a bat.

“There you go, honey.” The woman put down a mug brimming with tea and slid over a plate. “Sorry if you don’t like eggs. Or garlic. Or parsley. Or butter.”

“I didn’t order food,” the girl protested.

“You look like you need it.” The woman lit the candle, then walked away.

The girl looked at the gently steaming egg, drowning in green-flecked butter. It would go cold pretty quickly. Pessimism fought hunger, and hunger won. The egg was delicious. The place was open all night, huh? This corner had a sofa, and it had plenty blankets draped over it... would they notice if she slept? Wait. Maybe that was the plan. Get customers sleepy and...

“You can sleep there if you want,” the barista told her, making her jump. “I’ll keep an eye on your stuff.”

“I don’t, um, I don’t have any ‘stuff’.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Can I... can I maybe wash dishes or, or something?” Maybe it was better to stay awake. Keep busy.

“Are you looking for a job?” the man asked.

“Yes,” the girl replied, an idea occuring. She’d meant to go further, but... they wouldn’t look for her here, surely? The job would be at night, she wouldn’t have to risk being seen. Was she really far enough away, though? She could stay a few days and then leave. “Just for a, a week, maybe?”

The two vampires shared a look. “What’s your name, honey?” asked the woman.

“Amara,” she replied.

“This is Taran and I’m Divina,” the woman replied. “If it means anything to you, he’s a Le Fanu and I’m a Stollenheim.”

“Oh. Um." It rang a distant bell. There were only a few vampire families, and fewer successful ones. Their names came up in the paper occasionally. Not that she paid attention to world news. What did it matter to her? She did wish she’d paid a little more attention. “...Not really, no.”

“No?” Taran scratched his head. “I suppose no news is good news.”

“There’s not much to do right now, so if you want, you can sleep for a few hours,” Divina told her. “You need a place to stay?”

“Yes, but... I’ll figure it out later.”

“Like I said, you can sleep there,” Taran said. “We’re kind of expecting it. For people to need to sleep.”

“This is new to us, too,” Divina explained, seeing Amara’s confusion.

“We only just opened and no-one’s ever done this before. That we know of,” Taran added.

“Why?” Amara asked. “Why a café?”

“Balcony trawling’s not my style.” Taran wrinkled his nose.

“We actually met balcony trawling,” Divina continued. “We’d both had a bad night, and after some bickering and venting...”

“Why does EVERYONE expect a relationship?!” Taran exploded. “I just want to be friends! I need at least three active donors and I am NOT polyamorous! I’m not anything-amorous!”

“I keep telling you, if you insist on doing the suave vampire act, people will think you’re hitting on them,” Divina told him.

“I’m not hitting on them, I’m just being, you know, cool?” Taran replied. “I’m a cool guy.”

Divina laughed. “You are. But you have to stop doing that, hun. If you want the romantic advances to stop.”

“Why didn’t, er, why didn’t you like it?” Amara asked Divina. “The balcony... balcony... patrolling?”

“Similar reasons,” Divina replied. “Plus I just feel like there’s a better way. I need blood to live, others need food, why not do something about it?”

“So, uh, the pay...” If she was going to do this, she better do it right.

“We’ll give you room and board,” Divina replied. “Plus, say, 3 Crowns a day spending money? How’s that?”

Amara blinked. She couldn’t possibly have heard that right. “For washing dishes a few hours a night?”

“I’m sure you’ll be doing more than that,” Divina said.

“Like?” Amara tried not to squeak.

“Like getting us fresh ingredients, baking, serving customers,” Divina clarified. “I’ll write you up a contract. It’s quiet, so I can do it now.”

“Nothing blood related, right?” Amara asked.

“Oh, we can’t afford paid blood donors, honey,” Divina told her. “You gotta be royalty or near as damn it for that.”

“Okay then,” Amara agreed. “Sorry I just... I already had one bad contract.”

“Is that what you’re running from?” Taran asked.

Amara hunched up. “I don’t want to talk about it. I want to pretend it doesn’t exist.”

“What were we even talking about?” replied Taran obediently. “Divina?”

“You were going to show Amara the kitchen and where we keep everything and what’s on the menu and everything else our new star employee needs to know,” Divina prompted.

“I thought I was the star employee.” He pouted at her.

“The nice thing about stars is, there’s more than one,” Divina pointed out.

He held up a finger. “Ah, then I shall aim to be the moon, my dear Divina.”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about.” She smiled and shook her head.

“Follow me, follow me, follow the kitchen wizard.” Taran beckoned to Amara.

“He’s never used a stove in his life, don’t listen to him,” Divina remarked.

“Do you want me to show her the kitchen, or don’t you?” Taran shot back.

“Yes, yes, go ahead,” Divina replied. “Work should be fun. I, meanwhile, shall be writing the contract.”

“Sounds super fun. I am so jealous.” Taran replied.

“The equipment doesn’t look that different than the kitchen at... at my old place,” Amara remarked, ducking under Taran’s arm and eyeing the place critically. It was a lot smaller, barely bigger than a domestic kitchen. “Can you really serve customers with this?”

“We’re not exactly expecting a lot of customers,” Taran explained. “Not at first, anyway. I guess we’ll just adapt as we go along?”

“Yeah...”

“You worked in a kitchen before then?” he asked.

“Y-yeah.”

“It doesn’t exist, gotcha.” He drummed his fingers on his cheek. “What’s your favourite kind of cake, Amara?”

“Um... ginger. The housekeeper used to make us this delicious apple and ginger cake, before, before she...”

“Sorry, sorry.” Taran scratched his head. “Non-kitchen question. Uh. Favourite... drink? No. Favourite animal?”

“We weren’t allowed pets,”-Taran winced-“but I loved to go to the woods and listen to the birds sing.”

“Birds, huh?” His face lit up. “Then check this out!” It was as though she blinked, but Taran was gone and a little nightingale stood in his place. The bird fluttered up to the table and sang. The delightful warbling echoed around the whole kitchen.

Another blink, and Taran was sat on the edge of the table.

“We don’t do the bat thing in my family,” Taran explained. “Gran likes birds. I’m really sorry though, I really think that’s all I got before we have to talk about kitchens again.”

“It’s alright.” Amara steeled herself. “I shouldn’t ask for a job in a kitchen if I don’t want to think about kitchens. So. Where’s the pantry? I saw sponge cake on the menu, but I don’t see any. I’ll make one. That’s, that’s alright isn’t it?”

“You’re very observant,” Taran complimented her. “Go ahead. I’m sure Divina will be happy. We didn’t want to make much today while we gauge how much business we’re gonna have, so we’re deliberately low on non-drink items.”

“And DONE,” Divina announced some minutes later, waving a piece of parchment triumphantly at the doorway.

Taran nodded to Amara. “Go and look. I’ll finish this. It just needs to go in the oven until it’s golden brown, right?”

It was a fair contract. Good, even? Suspiciously good. Room, board, 3 Crowns a day pocket money, all as Divina had said. She could leave any time without notice, and she would work no more than six hours a day, though she was required to be on call for longer than that; the time the cafe was open and a little before that. Of course the main catch was that the café was open late into the night. It opened at 8pn and closed at 2bn.

She hesitated as she held the quill above the line. They wouldn’t find her here if she worked at night. Right? Room and board. Spending money. Not that she’d be spending it. She’d be saving it for an emergency. A different emergency, that is. She was already in an emergency. She could leave any time. She could leave ANY TIME. Her hand shook as she signed, giving her a wobbly signature.

Taran emerged from the kitchen.

“Divina. Divina, I have a newfound passion for baking.” He gestured to the finished cake on the table. “Why have I never tried baking before? It smells amazing. It looks amazing. I get to decorate it." He bit his lip. “I wanna make more cakes, Divina.”

“We’ve got enough cake so I’m going to need you to find a newfound passion for soup,” Divina replied.

“Will do.” Taran gave her a three fingered salute. “Newfound passion for soup in three, two... now!” He turned on his heel and disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Do you need to sleep?” Divina asked Amara.

“Should I not stay awake? To adjust my sleeping pattern?” Amara asked back.

“Hmm. Yes, but... maybe not all at once? Go take a little nap. I’ll wake you in an hour or so.”

Amara stared at the ceiling of her new room. And it was genuinely her room. She’d never slept alone before. She’d always been in bunk beds and hammocks. In servants’ quarters. Or the orphanage. She doubted she’d be able to sleep, but she had walked all day. She wanted to sleep. What was this feeling? It wasn’t safety. She wouldn’t feel safe here. It wasn’t like the woods. They’d never found her in the woods. Not once. If she could’ve lived in the woods, she would have. She didn’t feel safe, but she didn’t feel threatened either. Neutral. She felt... neutral. That would do. But she also felt hungry and tired and she didn’t really know these people. Vampires, huh? They had nothing on the orphanage director. Nor the workhouse foreman, and definitely not Lord Branndil. At least vampires only wanted your blood.

She tossed and turned, but it was no good. She went downstairs.

“Can I buy some of the paint I saw in the kitchen?” she asked. “Black, white, brown, green? Perhaps yellow and blue? You can take it out of my wages.”

“You don’t need to give up your wages,” Divina reassured her. “You paint too, huh? We sure got lucky. What do you want to paint?”

“My room. It’s just so... beige.”

Divina nodded approvingly. “It is, that. Paint away. Wait, though.” The vampire narrowed her eyes at the girl. “You eat, first. And you get another drink. If I’m right, that egg you had is all you’ve had all day.”

“You are right.”

“Here, sandwich.” Divina plucked a plate from the counter and thrust at Amara. “And cut yourself a slice of that cake you made.”

Amara blinked. “Isn’t it for the customers?”

“We have to eat too.” Divina shrugged. “Besides, what the customers don’t eat, we’ll have to eat the leftovers. Keep that in mind and don’t make too much. Speaking of which, can you check on Taran? He’s not left the kitchen since I saw you last and I didn’t want to leave the counter unmanned.”

Amara found Taran with his nose inches from a book on the counter, with four different pots on the boil, and spices everywhere. He threw a good pinch of one herb in one pot then sprinkled a spice into another. He tasted a little of each. He added even more herbs.

“Um. Divina said we mustn’t make too much,” Amara cautioned, her voice wobbling.

“What? Oh. Yeah. Yeah, yeah. Try this, will you? I think it needs a little something.” Taran gestured to the first pot. I’ve been experimenting with different things but I just can’t quite get it how I want it.” Amara took a spoonful and blew on it. It tasted okay, but bland. “Try the others for me?” She tried one after the other. They all had slightly different flavour profiles but were still bland.

“Did you ... add salt?” she asked.

“The recipe didn’t say so, so no,” Taran admitted.

“This recipe book is pretty old.” Amara picked it up and flipped it over. “The old ones don’t tell you to add salt, because they assumed everyone knew to do it.”

“I’m not everyone, recipe book!” Taran stuck out his tongue at it.

“It’s okay. Just add some now. Um, I’d also recommend adding some more onions and garlic.” Amara gave the pots a stir, bringing up the vegetables to inspect them. “It’ll probably be a mushier soup than you maybe wanted but it’ll be okay.”

“I was going for max mush, so that’s not a problem.” Taran wiped his brow. “Big relief. I thought I’d wasted a whole day’s ingredients.”

Amara sat and ate her sandwich. She made herself an infusion from the giant pot of clear water gently bubbling on the other side of the kitchen. She sipped the brew and let her tired eyes wander over the kitchen. Something was off.

“How are you keeping these fires going?” she asked. “I don’t see any fuel.” There was the one under the hot water and the four little ones under the soup pots.

“Magic,” Taran replied. “We need to find a better way if we can, though. The more magic I use, the more blood I need. I’ll go balcony trawling if I have to, but the point of this place, besides feeding people, was to NOT have to do that.”

“How often do you have to?” she asked.

“Once every two months, if I use barely any magic,” he answered. “More like once a month though.”

“Oh. That’s a lot less than I though’,” Amara mused. Did she just slur a word?

“How much did you think?” Taran asked, tilting his head to one side.

“Every day? I don’t know. Jus’ a lo’ more.” She blinked her eyes repeatedly. Was the kitchen always blurry?

“Only true vampires need that much,” Taran explained. “I’m a great grandson so my situation is much improved.”

“Hmm.” Amara almost face planted into her drink.

“Woah, maybe go to bed?” Taran suggested, diving forward to move her cup out of the way. “Don’t get a faceful of hot, scalding liquid.”

“Couldn’ slee’,” Amara mumbled. “Can’ slee’. Maybe in th’ woodsss...” She saw Taran dart forward again before she blacked out.

Amara jerked awake. She was in bed. A strange room. Beige. So very beige. The sun was shining strongly through the open curtains. She sat up so fast her head spun. What happened? She’d run away in the night. Walked all day. All day, barely stopping. Came to a cafe. Cafe. Vampires. She’d asked for a job. Contract. Soup. Vampire making soup. She’d suddenly been incredibly sleepy. Incredibly sleepy. Vampires.

Her hand shot to her neck. Nothing. She got up and inspected it in the small mirror hanging over the wash basin. Still nothing. She turned for the door and nearly tripped over a stack of tins. Paint. She’d asked for paint. There was a note.

‘I had to carry you upstairs, I hope that was okay?

You’d fallen asleep on the table.

It turns out SOMEONE can’t tell medicine herbs from cooking herbs and the soup got doused with sleeping nettles.

Divina’

A second part was in different handwriting:

‘I am so sorry Amara. The offending herbs have been identified and removed from the kitchen. The offending person has been identified (it’s me) and removed from the kitchen (temporarily).

Taran’

“That explains that then. Hmm.” Amara stared at the note for a long time. Finally she blinked herself back to reality and turned her attention to the paint. They’d included a set of brushes and a couple of cups of clean water. Amara picked up a brush.

By the time Divina knocked on the door to check on her that evening, the walls were covered in trees.

----

First new thing I've written in some years! I need to edit my first draft of Zaran's book but like. I don't wanna.

This is also basically a first draft. I don't normally post things this fresh for other people to read but like... I wish to get something out there.

I know it's lacking in description especially.

#vampires don't belong in fairytales #vdbif #vampire #vampires #vampire oc #original work #writing #writblr #midnight oil cafe #divina von stollenheim #taran le fanu #alicia l wright #puddingvalkyrie

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sithskywalkerr · 6 months

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i heard they need better signal. put chip and pins in the needles.

Summary: After realizing the truth of Luke's identity, Darth Vader plans an attack on Alderaan only to be stopped by his wife. Meanwhile, Keyti, an ally of Vader, is released from custody after the battle and joins the Rebel Alliance. Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ahsoka Tano, Leia Organa, Luke Skywalker, Appo, C-3PO, Bail and Breha Organa, Yoda, Original Sith Character, Original Imperial Character Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, minor character death, implied childhood sexual abuse Ships: Anidala Word Count: 7.9k read on ao3!

To say a drive with the Emperor was nerve-wracking was common among those who worked for the Empire. This was common throughout the whole experience: shaky hands, sweaty palms, and stuttering if you were particularly more affected. The head of the Empire had secured his wary trust among many, often cornered politicians to give more control or materials in the name of the “greater good for the Empire.”

Keyti was an exception to the politically charged fear. Hers was from hoping to survive an interaction as she had been a beloved prize to the former Chancellor in her adolescence until she developed more than he lost interest. She counted her stars, thanked the Force, and moved on. She had survived and was determined that by now, there was nothing that Sheev Palpatine could do to break her more. Even behind the power of the dark side, she knew he was nothing without the stepping stones of others he had disposed of and manipulated to gain this title. Without Lord Vader, he was nothing.

Arriving at Mustafar was relieving, seeing the slowly changing landscape she had heard about. The Emperor had sensed the solace, eyes glancing her way, a small smile forming on his pale lips. “Eager to return to Lord Vader?”

That was one way to put it. Though, she was. She knew she was safer near him. At the very least, there would be a witness to the horrors the Emperor caused, even if Vader didn’t stop the punishment. Her yellowed eyes moved to the vile man sitting across from her, his loyal guards at his side to protect him (as if he needed them), and she pursed her lips momentarily, looking back to the lava rivers twisting through the decimated plains.

“I’m eager to begin my assignment, nothing more, your Highness.”

The captain spoke over the intercom to announce the landing procedure, the ship rocking slightly as the landing gear was deployed. Keyti straightened up, letting her hands rest on her lap while she kept a blank look on her face.

Amara’s earpiece buzzed momentarily while she was within the fortress tunnels, pausing as the Emperor’s arrival was announced. Keeping her datapad in hand, she made her way through the extensive network to the elevator, jabbing the button to go up to the landing dock while she hit the button on her earpiece. “Any news for Lady Keyti?”

“Yes, Corporal, she is arriving with the Emperor.”

Her heart sank at the news, and her auburn eyes widened as the elevator rose to the ground level; she said,” Thank you.” She only hoped that Keyti was alive and in one piece. If what she had been told about the Force was right, the Emperor would have been aware of the former aristocrat’s hatred for him already—not that he would honestly care.

Keyti waited for the Emperor to exit, taking a slow breath before leaving the small craft and hobbling down the ramp to continue to fake her injury. She couldn’t let him be suspicious of her distrust, but she wouldn’t doubt it if he already had hints. The Force would show her feelings, and she could only silently hope nothing would be done.

She saw Vader’s familiar form entering the landing pad, his eyes glancing between the two before pausing and bowing to his Master.

“Rise, Lord Vader. You have an apology to give to our dear Keyti for the injury you’ve given her,” the Emperor said, though not fully believing she had been injured. Still, it was nothing to worry himself over if she felt like she had to hide the fact that she hid herself in his apprentice’s assault on Inquisitorus. He would review the footage soon enough and begin a plan.

Standing, the Sith Lord glanced at Keyti, unsure if she had been injured. He didn’t sense pain or discomfort from her, and he was sure she would be radiating it. Their time on Serenno had proven that to Vader when he had taken a sizeable amount of flesh out of her calf even when she had tried to mask it - and the many times she’s had a flare-up with her back. Still, he obeyed, giving a momentary bow of his head - shorter than what he had given the Emperor - while his voice lowly rumbled out,” Forgive me, my Lady. I cannot control my actions when I’m in that … state.”

“I’ll forgive you if you give me aid to the medical wing - personally,” she smiled softly, teasing him with a slight glare in response from him before the Emperor made a pleased sound.

“It would be a small price, but I believe that Lord Vader can make an exception,” Sidious gave a reserved smile, glancing at his apprentice as the taller made his way to Keyti.

Only because you’re ordering me to, Vader absently thought, holding an arm out to Keyti to help her out of the landing pad to the dark onyx hall. Keyti gave a slight bow of her head to the Emperor, hobbling her way out while using Vader as a crutch. Once farther away, he pulled from Keyti, arms crossing,” Why are you feigning an injury?”

Glancing back, she looked up at him, voice soft,” I wasn’t expecting him to circle back to Inquisitorus so quickly. Forgive me if I had to fake a few things to keep this,” she reached down her binding, carefully pulling the drive out,” safe from him knowing … apologies for the hiding spot, I didn’t have any other place to put it under short notice.”

“Keyti,” his yellow eyes move to the drive, holding a hand out,” why do you insist on mistrusting him? Your loyalty—“” I know, my Lord. My loyalty to him should not wax and wane … but please. Review the footage. Alone. This was … difficult to watch, but you need to see it.” Her eyes pleaded, searching his exposed features while his gaze held steady toward her. As she put the drive into his hand, the sensors picked up on the warmth, and his eyes moved to the small stick, observing the light glinting off of it.

“Why do you believe that?”

“When you saw the Jedi, you hesitated. When I was with him to protect the children, you still hesitated. I want you to see that you can control yourself even if it’s not at the forefront of your mind. Though, one might think you’re fond of me since I am unharmed,” she couldn’t help but tease, grinning while making her way through the hall before spotting Amara as she rushed through the halls.

“Thank the Maker, you’re safe. Oh, Lord Vader. Forgive me,” Amara paused once she was beside her friend, bowing her head. “Corporal Amara Beklau. I’ve been tasked with cataloging the tunnels beneath the fortress.” The relief she had shown before formalities caught him off guard momentarily, glancing between the two new additions to his castle’s staff.

“Ensure its accuracy, Corporal, and make reinforcements where necessary to the tunnels.” He glanced at Keyti again while tucking the drive away, abruptly leaving the duo. She let her gaze roam along his enormous, imposing form before smiling slightly. Indeed, that was a good sign since she wasn’t immediately killed.

Amara watched Vader briefly, briefly expressing surprise while looking up at Keyti. She spoke when she believed he was out of earshot, a small, teasing smile forming on her features,” I understand your little crush now.”

Keyti only replied with a swift punch into Amara’s shoulder. Glancing up, she saw him glance back, brow arching before vanishing around the corner to locate Sidious again. Her face heated up in embarrassment, and she looked to Amara, who only gave a grin,” You’re welcome.”

The Sith warrior’s eyes momentarily bore into her while her lips pursed momentarily,” You are lucky I enjoy your company; otherwise, I would take a page from our Lord’s book and kill you.”

Amara tilted her head, her smile fading. “I have never seen him without the mask. Even though that allows for seeing his eyes, I’ve never seen his entire face. He is quite handsome … past, y’know, the clear signs of being infected.”

Yellow eyes lingered on Amara for another few heartbeats before she looked back down the path he had taken,” I’ve only seen him without it a few times. Considering he needed medical attention after Inquisitorus, I doubt he would have thought to put it on. With also being in his castle, and with a visit from the Emperor…”

“I have no doubt about that, but … what was that drive you gave him?” Her head tilted, auburn eyes glancing over the other as she motioned to follow her to her quarters.

“Only because I trust you and you already know the truth of my past, I’ll tell you.”

Struggling to keep up with Keyti’s stride, she nodded, glancing up at her,” Of course. I won’t tell anyone else. Was it from the fortress?”

“Yes,” she glanced down at her, giving small nods to other staff members as they passed the halls and entered the sizable elevator. Amara’s thick, dark brows furrowed as she moved in behind her, opting to be quiet while another staff member slid beside the two.

Once in her quarters, Amara sat on the ottoman at the foot of the bed, watching as Keyti moved to pour some wine for them both. “Inquisitorus was ultimately a failure in retrieving information from the Princess. As soon as Lord Vader arrived, from my understanding and the footage I saw, he suddenly had one of his episodes after someone had greeted him.”

“Another episode happened?” Amara’s veins felt cold, yet she still reached out to the offered glass as Keyti sat beside her with a nod. She had been lucky to never have to witness one personally, but she did fear the possibility that she would.

Sipping her wine, Keyti stared out the window she had, overlooking the barren trees and orange glow in the sky from the lava. “Yes. I doubt that anything the sergeant had said would cause him to be triggered, but something did happen. I had been able to leave the landing pad to get further into the fortress when I noticed he was distracted by Reva. Then, I saw the Princess, a boy her age, and two Jedi. I thought maybe something they had done had caused the shift, but the kids were terrified, Amara. I couldn’t let them just die like that, even if I was helping members of the Rebellion.” Amara watched while her eyes cleared back to blue, brows furrowing while she shook her head before continuing,” I’ve already lost part of my calf to him. I can only imagine what being eaten alive would feel like … especially to kids so young. They couldn’t have been older than fifteen or sixteen.”

A gentle hand on her shoulder made Keyti’s gaze return to her, and her friend offered a soft smile:” If it’s what felt right, then it was the right thing. If it were me, I wouldn’t let them face that either. What happened afterward?”

“He found us,” she swallowed harshly, taking a sizable drink from her glass even with the pain medication still in her system. Really, she needed it after the day. “Lord Vader found all of us and began to come closer as the male Jedi ignited his saber and convinced the woman to lead the kids away. The hall got cold and dark, and then these dark, muted flowers started to peek through the floor panels. It was strange, and they had begun to lead towards me but stopped before moving towards the man. Vader hesitated before he started to try to get towards him. Even when the boy had started up one of the remaining cargo ships, Lord Vader’s pursuit was mainly on that male Jedi. That leads me to believe that they knew each other in some way that lingers when he’s blinded by the hunger.”

“Do you have any idea who they were?”

“No, I don’t know many Jedi since they were eradicated for the most part. The ones I did learn of, I eradicated. I’m sure I could access files, but after I returned after getting Reva medical attention, I wanted to review the footage. The cameras did show him watching us in the hall as if trying to figure out something, but I don’t know what. He still attacked, but he hesitated, and he didn’t pursue the children specifically.”

“And you gave him the recording?” Amara asked uncertainly, brows furrowing. Keyti, I do not know if that was a wise decision. What if it triggers another one?”

“Considering he fed by now, I doubt it would.”

“I suppose we’ll know when the Emperor returns to Coruscant … but, strangely, he was in an episode and still targeted that man.” Amara’s brows furrowed momentarily, humming while sipping at her glass. “As you said, that would be a relationship that’s enough to recognize even when he doesn’t have mental clarity.”

“The Jedi did tell me that Lord Vader would recognize him, but the story would be long. He must be someone that he knew perhaps before the Empire.”

“Do not dig into his past, Keyti,” Amara warned, watching as her friend only shrugged while she sipped her wine.

“His past doesn’t matter to me. Only his present and future.”

After a long hour of punishment at the hand of Sidious, Vader made his way to his chambers, ordering everyone to stay away. The staff knew that if anyone dared disobey, they wouldn’t survive five seconds after an interruption. Moving to his meditation chamber, he settled on the chair before pulling the drive from a pocket as his body ached. While in his meeting with the Emperor, news came that Rebel forces had bombed the fortress, and nothing was salvageable. However, after reviewing this footage, he wondered if it may be a good thing. Eyes stare at it momentarily, still surprised that Keyti had even risked her life to obtain it for him. Hitting a few buttons on the panel, a port opened close to the arm of his chair, and he plugged it in, looking at the monitor as the various camera angles in the fortress pulled up.

Pressing a few more, he rewound the footage to the beginning with his arrival, brows furrowing as he could remember getting there and the sergeant greeting him. Pausing, he saw a glimpse of Ahsoka in the corner. His shoulders squared while his eyes scanned the multiple monitor recordings, seeing her disabling alarms. Looking closer, he saw Obi-Wan find the boy who had managed to locate Princess Leia’s cell, calling his name softly.

His name was Luke. A sharp pang of pain pierced his chest, memories of the plans he and Padmé had begun to discuss resurfacing. But he quickly brushed them aside, his attention returning to the monitor. He watched as Obi-Wan used his lightsaber to open the door, revealing the children. They embraced, and a thought crossed his mind. Could he be a friend of hers? He shifted his gaze to another monitor, where he was closing in on their location. His brows furrowed as he tried to recall why he had been so compelled to go that way.

His features relaxed at Keyti’s arrival to see the group, pausing when she motioned them to go the other way. Obi-Wan lighted his saber, and Keyti spoke. Naturally, he noticed that Ahsoka didn’t trust her. However, when he was at the end, he heard Keyti mention saving the children and made a low hum in his throat. A weakness. He straightened when Obi-Wan mentioned Alderaan before Keyti and the Jedi started noticing the flowers.

Glancing to another screen, he saw Ahsoka guiding the children, trying to keep them from the worst carnage. His eyes moved back to see his pursuit of them before focusing on Obi-Wan. His expression was unreadable, but his anger began to rise again as his fingers dug into the arms of his chair. Observing the fight, he noticed Obi-Wan distracted by the moving cargo ship, and then the following exchange between his former Master and Padawan made his blood freeze.

“Luke got it started up. He really is like his father.”

“When his father isn’t starved.”

His fingers crushed the chair’s arms, watching as they escaped. He has a son. Ripping the drive from the port, he shattered it into his palm, letting the broken pieces fall before exiting his chambers to reach Keyti’s. His steps were heavy within the hall as his anger radiated in the Force, and he didn’t stop for formalities while he opened the doors to see Amara and her with wine.

Amara’s eyes widened, and she glanced at Keyti while putting her glass down on the dresser, able to feel his intense, radiating anger. “I’m goin’—”” Sit back down, Corporal. I’m sure Lady Keyti has already spoken of the events with you.”

She knew not to lie, only giving a solemn nod as the door shut behind him, making his way closer to the both of them. “How much of the footage did you watch? What do you know?”

Keyti put her glass down, trying to push the fear that wanted to mute her as she attempted to hide her shaking hands. “I stopped when I noticed the cargo ship’s departure, but by then, I was speaking to you through the Force. I was not paying full attention to it, not even when I saw the Emperor arriving. Should I have, My Lo—”” Silence.” He snapped, moving closer as his jaw clenched, the thin tendon across the cheek cavity tightening as his hands balled into fists.

“What do you know of the Jedi?”

“Nothing. I do not know who they are. I only knew Princess Leia. I had to get what I could onto the drive before I ran out of—” Her voice cut off as her throat tightened, watching helplessly as he leaned closer. Amara’s throat also began to tighten, eyes widening in alarm as her breath caught.

“The recording never existed. Neither of you will speak of this again. What happened at Fortress Inquisitorus was a failure. Speak of it, and you will not breathe again.” He loosened the Force choke on both women, pulling back as Amara inhaled shakily as he watched Keyti’s eyes water.

“Leave, Corporal,” she weakly said, glancing at Amara, who only nodded, not pausing to act formally as she made a swift exit. Waiting until the doors shut, she tried to steady her voice and ignore how the tears wanted to fall.” Who were the Jedi?”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi and Ahsoka Tano,” he simply replied while straightening, arms crossing over his chest.

Keyti lifted a hand to rub at her neck softly, voice quiet,” If either of them cross my path again, you will be given their decapitated head … but I could not let you kill the children.”

“This is the only time where that weakness was beneficial. Do not let it happen again.” Moving out, he was silent while he only knew the assault on Alderaan would be an answer to everything. If he could just see his son … perhaps he could understand how he survived.

Alderaan had been in the sight of the Emperor for long enough, especially after the destruction of Inquisitorus. The materials would speed production up, secure the Emperor’s final grasp of power, and he would be able to teach the Organas a lesson. Their lives would be a small price for securing his throne entirely — his power. More whispers had been spreading through the various regions, and a growing Rebellion was biding time to the right moment and opportunity to begin their attempt to push back against the tyrannical government. Using his favorite dog apprentice, he sent Vader to Alderaan to engage in a battle to ensure victory before the rebels could begin to gain footing. Then, his Empire would prosper and last.

Vader’s yellow eyes scanned the glimmering city, the familiar sight reminding him of memories he had worked hard to repress. It wasn’t too long ago that he was here training in a saber duel with Obi-Wan, trying to work towards becoming a Jedi Knight. Yet, it still felt like a lifetime ago. When he was still human. Still helplessly in love. Still good. Now, he was sure none of that remained in him as he turned as Appo approached him,” Sir, we are ready to begin the assault, just awaiting your orders.”

“Then begin, but if any children are captured, do not kill them,” he said simply, watching as Appo nodded with some surprise at the order before communicating to the rest of the fleet. His eyes moved from the clone to below, watching as chaos erupted as the Rebellion army started to work to ensure that the Imperial fleet could not break through. Soon, he would begin his own assault, but he wanted to simply watch a moment to see the legion do their work.

Blasts whistled in Vader’s notched ears while he stayed in place, watching as the Rebellion put up a fight he hadn’t fully anticipated. That was admirable even to him. However, all their efforts would be in vain. A gloved hand was raised to use the Force to stop a few blasts from hitting his chest, and dark robes moved within the bright sun as he made his way down a path. Tanned, gnarled skin felt the warmth of the glaring sun, seeping past the aperture within his cheek and nearly drying his mouth. Igniting his saber, the pale blade hummed red, and he plunged it into a few of the clones from the Rebellion while his stormtroopers began their pushback. Panic was severe within the Force while his blade infected those whom he speared, watching as they turned on their fellow comrades to unleash a new, unholy chaos on the battlefront.

Obi-Wan was with his legion, instructing them to do what they could to keep Alderaan from falling into the Empire’s grasp. He saw the black-robed Sith going through the ranks, watching in horror as anyone in contact with his lightsaber suddenly was infected. Kyber crystals could succumb to the virus? The General readied his own saber, gloved hands holding a slight tremble as he now felt uncertain about the fate of Alderaan. Still, they would try to keep everything secure — that was their duty right now, and he could trust within the Force that it would work out. Other newly appointed Jedi tried to limit the number of troopers as more chaos erupted from the clones, and some stormtroopers were zombified.

One of the new Jedi narrowly escaped a harsh swipe from Vader, eyes widening as she saw his face. No. It couldn’t be. Yet, the familiar profile of the Sith Lord was now unmistakable, the hint of the scar through his brow visible at certain angles of light as it had healed slowly through the years from the bacta treatments.

His pursuit continued, movements easily keeping up with Selonna as she tried to move away from his pale blade. No, this was wrong. Her voice was weak and heartbreaking as yellow eyes bore into her. “Master Skywalker, what has become of you?” She had just been a Padawan at the time of his disappearance, and the unforeseen circumstances of the war had propelled her to Knight status faster than expected. Anything to get their numbers back up from the decimation of the Republic. She had studied as best as she could, often seeking help from Yoda or Obi-Wan, who were the only council members alive, but nothing could have prepared her for the truth that had been hidden.

His jaw tightened at her voice, hand raising as Obi-Wan watched him use the Force to impale her on the blade. “Anakin Skywalker is dead.”

Elyndra was close, her green eyes widening at watching as the virus took hold of Selonna, screaming her name. Her heart shattered at seeing her dear friend jerking as he pulled the blade out of her chest. Selonna fell to Vader’s feet as he watched her, clicks and chirps emitting from him as his gaze moved to Elyndra. The order was simple in Selonna’s withering mind as the virus burned in her blood in an attempt to rewrite her DNA.

Kill her.

Fingers dug into the lush earth of Alderaan as Selonna’s body struggled to metabolize the virus, and a sound of annoyance came from him as he used the blade to decapitate her instead. “Weak.” Lifting his gaze, he scanned the battlefield as the Jedi constantly deflected blasters as clones fought back. Then he saw Obi-Wan observing, and his hatred burned brighter in his chest once more. His hand gripped his saber, and his eyes narrowed as he made his path toward his former Master. An inhuman growl escaped when he was met with the familiar defensive stance as blue-grey eyes bore into his, and he squared his shoulders once he met with Ahsoka not far behind coming to aid.

A soft whisper in his mind was familiar, yet often forgotten when he reached clarity after an “episode.”

Execute Order 66.

The Emperor was aware of his apprentice’s movements, sensing his feelings through the Force and the burning hatred. Only one individual could cause his apprentice to lose sight of the objective. His will should not be threatened by old feelings, and Sidious let out a soft hum while reaching to his apprentice in the Force, his voice barely a whisper as he gave the order.

Vader’s pupils contracted, and he suddenly rushed forward while the hunger burned in his belly as the inhibitor chip was engaged, blue and white blades stopping his assault as Ahsoka grit her teeth at the strength behind it. Her eyes widened when she saw the animalistic rage in his eyes, and the dread began to creep into her chest while her exhale became a mist near them. The air around them had chilled significantly, and Obi-Wan used the Force with her to push him back, their eyes noticing the flowers beginning to blossom at Vader’s feet as low guttural sounds escaped his throat.

Maker, protect us.

Padmé had seen the battle begin, ordering the children to stay in the palace while she rushed out to help. Even if it would expose her, she couldn’t be idle any longer, not when her husband was there.

Keyti had noticed the flowers, and her gaze lifted to a woman in white running closer, brows furrowing as she saw the two children she had saved weeks earlier close to the palace. What the kriff is happening? After she retracted her blade from a clone, she made a sound of surprise as someone else only took her down, glancing back to see Yoda get a clone to secure restraints on her. Her eyes moved back to Vader as she didn’t attempt to escape, and Yoda noticed, looking over as his own widened in shock at seeing the former Senator moving toward her husband. Was Padmé truly so foolish?

Lifting his arms to deliver a heavier blow towards Ahsoka after he had delivered a harsh injury to Obi-Wan’s leg, he stopped as the ghost of his wife stood in front of him, hands up to hold onto his arms.

“Anakin, stop,” she pleaded, brows furrowing as he stared at her familiar form.

She was a ghost—something of his imagination—but why did she feel so real? The shock had been enough to disrupt the hunger, and yellow eyes were scanning over her. He stiffened as her hand lifted to his injured cheek, thumb softly brushing along his cheekbone like she would before. Her eyes watered at the sight of him, what he had been subjected to for decades at the hand of the Emperor, as she could see him try to place her.

“I’m here. Ani, please, put your lightsaber down,” she pleaded, glancing at the pale blade as it hummed steadily before it suddenly clicked off. She looked over to clones beginning to make their way closer in an attempt to restrain him, putting a hand up. “No, stay back. Everyone, please. Just move back.” She couldn’t risk triggering him to be set off again, not when he seemed to be calming down.

Ahsoka refused to move, but Obi-Wan only took a haggard step back, watching Anakin’s brows furrow tightly while slowly lowering his arms. Clipping the saber to his belt, his large, gloved hands slowly moved to her face, watching as she leaned into the familiar touch with a saddened smile briefly on her lips. The hunger subsided momentarily, clarity returned, his eyes widening as he pulled her into a tight embrace, feeling her tremble beneath him. He buried his face into her neck then, clutching onto her clothing tightly as he could feel the tears welling up in relief of her being alive.

Tensing at him moving her, Ahsoka readied herself to protect Padmé, but his softness surprised her before she had to deflect more blasts as the battle didn’t pause around them. Glancing back to Obi-Wan, she saw him direct Keyti being taken into custody while they could. If they were lucky, they could keep Vader as well.

Pulling back, the hunger began to claw at his belly again, voice soft,” Leave. I’m not safe.”

“I can’t leave you behind again, Ani. Not when I just got you back. I don’t know what the Emperor has told you all these years, but it’s been a lie. I know there is still good in you, and I want our family together.”

“I will take care of the stormtroopers. Alderaan will be safe for now,” Anakin said as he pulled away. Then, he motioned back to the palace, “Get back inside.”

She nodded as she got to Obi-Wan’s side with Ahsoka, supporting him better as she watched him ignite his lightsaber again before starting to decapitate troopers. Not even the virus would be able to keep them alive, and Padmé averted her gaze from the brutality, voice soft to the others. “Let’s get inside. He’s back.”

Ahsoka wasn’t convinced as they helped lead Obi-Wan back inside to treat his burn, glancing back,” I’ll believe it when he doesn’t embrace the dark anymore.”

Obi-Wan refused to look back, his voice soft.” If it keeps Alderaan safe for now, we will accept him being here. Perhaps Padmé is correct. There may be some good in him still.” He hoped that it could be beneficial for the Rebellion—even if it was dangerous.

Keyti was silent in her cell, leaning against the wall to aid with the pain in her back as she had been waiting for what seemed like hours. The pain medication had worn off some time ago while she reflected on the attempted claim for Alderaan - still shocked at the unfolding events. Senator Amidala was alive, and not only that, but was married to Lord Vader. Still, her hands trembled from the fear of seeing his rampage continue after seeing his wife, hoping that she had been spared from it. Her head lifted as the cell door opened to show the Senator, her expression curious to the relieved warrior as she entered.

“Is Lord Vader stable now?” Keyti’s voice was soft and weak, but she needed to know. Her blue eyes searched Padmé for any sign of injury, but she seemed fine.

She didn’t expect the soft smile that came onto Padme’s features, nodding as she stepped closer.” Yes. He is stable. He’s also vouching for your release to Master Kenobi and Master Yoda. It seems you managed to make a positive impact on him, even through it all. If you are granted release, you cannot return to the Empire, however.”

“I did not plan to. Not when Lord Vader can also be free of that hell.” There would be nothing for her to return to but Amara, but even she knew that friendship wouldn’t give her the immunity that being close to Vader did.

“He isn’t free entirely from it, but eventually, he will be with time.” She turned and heard the cell open again, watching Obi-Wan enter with the key while he limped slightly from his wound. Still, the bacta cream had provided more comfort than he expected.

“Considering your previous help with the twins, we’ve decided to grant you freedom, My Lady.” He watched with interest as she seemed to relax, nodding.

“I’m assuming in exchange for any information regarding the Empire or Lord Vader?”

“He has said you would not know many of the Empire’s dealings, but I believe you know of his,” he let her move forward before clicking the restraints off, watching as she rubbed her wrists momentarily before a brief pained expression came over her features.

“He still kept his secrets, but I am relieved that one child I helped you save was his own. I don’t believe I would have been forgiven as easily if they weren’t.”

Padmé smiled, voice soft,” Both of them are. Leia’s identity has been easily hidden with the Organas, and Luke doesn’t exist on record. However, I believe that I can trust you, Keyti. My husband does, so I will.” Surprise coated Keyti’s face at the realization of Vader’s trust in her, which only caused Padmé’s smile to widen,” Despite what he may try to lead you on, he does trust you. Please follow me. Formal introductions are in order now if you’re going to be a Rebel.”

Unease settled in the warrior’s chest, but she knew she wasn’t in the position to fight back—not when Keyti was given a second chance that she couldn’t receive if she returned to the Empire. Though she would do anything to get her possessions back from Mustafar she pushed the thought away for now. She stood up slowly, wincing at the sharp pain that shot up along her spine.

Obi-Wan caught a fleeting glimpse of the pain, moving closer to offer his arm for her.” Are you injured, My Lady?”

“It’s something I’ve always had, just some damage in my back. I’ll be fine.” She hesitated but soon grabbed the robes that Obi-Wan wore, glancing at him with a silent nod of thanks.

Padmé stepped closer, looking her over while her brows furrowed,” do you need a wheelchair?”

“No, just pain medication when possible. I usually take Dotaxrin tablets. Vader will know.” Keyti leaned into the former Jedi more, and concern only painted his weathered features more as he supported her up.

Padmé and Obi-Wan exchanged glances, but Padmé opted to alert the med bay to bring medication to the sitting area, motioning them to follow her. Keyti followed, masking the pain as she glanced around the ornate decorations, making a soft sound of surprise at how even lush the cell block was.

As they entered the dining hall after a gradual journey from Keyti’s pain, she looked up to Anakin as he stood with arms crossed while Ahsoka stayed quiet for the moment. They looked at them once they entered, and Ahsoka only arched a brow momentarily before Anakin spoke.

“A flare-up?”

Keyti gave a miserable nod, causing Ahsoka to glance between them. Oh, it wasn’t a show. She watched as Obi-Wan carefully led her to the closest, plush seat she could, getting her softly settled down. It wasn’t long before a droid came in, holding a tray with water and the requested bottle. Keyti swallowed hard while another pain wave assaulted her spine, eyes shutting tightly as she heard Anakin’s low voice rumble out again to the droid.

“What is the dosage?”

“375 milligrams, extended-release as requested. How many pills are required?”

“Two if it’s extended.”

Obi-Wan glanced at his former padawan as he listened, noting what was needed for the warrior since he could quickly sense the pain in the Force. He could only imagine how easily Anakin could have sensed it if the medication had been prepared so swiftly. Keyti shakily took the pills offered by the droid, giving a weak nod as she slowly took them. Sitting back, she exhaled as the droid placed the glass of water on the table beside her,” please continue to take sips to aid in releasing the medication.”

Padmé said then,” We also will need a wheelchair. After this meeting, she will visit the medbay.”

The droid looked at her, nodding,” We will prepare for her arrival.” After the droid exited, Anakin moved closer, keeping his arms crossed. “How long has it been hurting?”

“I don’t know. Sometime during me being within the cell, My Lord.”

Yoda and the Organas soon entered the room, and the others looked over at them, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and Padmé smiling while giving warm greetings. Keyti became quiet, trying to mask the pain again as she bowed her head. She noticed Anakin only squared his shoulders, keeping his arms firmly crossed over his broad chest. Glancing over him, she wondered about his connection with everyone else in the room and how he still seemed to be emitting Vader’s mannerisms.

Bail then spoke, sitting beside his wife,” It’s good to see everyone unharmed after that, but truly, we are happy with your return, Anakin. Unexpected, I do admit, but still relieved you’re back with Padmé. The past fifteen years have been difficult for her and the twins.”

The Senator smiled weakly, making her way to his side again. She held his bicep carefully as he stood as Yoda and Obi-Wan sat.” I know they’ve been difficult for him as well. I know the children will want to meet him soon, but I wanted to gather everyone for more formal introductions. Anakin is the only one who would know everyone in this room, and since we’ve agreed to release Lady Selus, she should also know everyone else and vice versa.”

Their eyes moved to the warrior, her tattooed hand rubbing at her brow quietly with her eyes shut in pain before opening at her name. Looking between everyone, she gave a slight nod,” Well, I am aware at least of who Master Yoda, Master Kenobi, and Ahsoka are. I’ve never formally met the Organas as I didn’t do many diplomatic missions like other Imperial officers. I would stand and offer my hand, but I’m in a lot of pain at the moment. Forgive my manners.”

Padmé softened, looking to the Organas,” Keyti is the one who helped the twins escape the fortress.”

Ahsoka glanced at Obi-Wan, who was simply observing everyone while also signing for Yoda, quiet as he often was in larger group meetings, before her gaze flicked to Anakin. His features were unreadable, but his gaze was outside to the balcony, watching the skies as they grayed with the threat of rain. She could only hope that the longer he was back with them, the more he would continue to turn to the Light again or at least become balanced.

Breha spoke then, her voice soft and her features gentle.” For that, we thank you. As for your pain, you do not have to worry about formalities. Thank you for helping them, and I’m assuming she knows the truth then, Padmé?”

“Yes. Lady Keyti is aware that Luke and Leia are our children.” Leaning into Anakin more, his gaze moved back to his wife, leaning down to only give a soft kiss to her head. There was a pause as the droid returned with a wheelchair, getting it parked to the side for when they finished the meeting before the door shut again.

Yoda glanced at Obi-Wan and the Organas, humming softly to get everyone’s attention before he signed. “Trust Keyti, how? Work with Vader, she has. Tell the Empire information, she could.” Obi-Wan nodded, continuing his interpretation for the Grand Master.” Yes, how can we trust her not to go to the Empire about the Alliance?”

Anakin’s eyes moved to him, lifting his head back as Padmé could feel how he tensed beneath her touch. “Lady Keyti has been assigned to me, and she knows better than to cross me if she wishes to stay alive.”

Keyti gave an exhausted nod, with a half-assed gesture of her fingers towards him,” My loyalty has never been to the Emperor. He has caused his own damage to me before I was of age, and I refuse to bend to his will anymore. The Empire’s role in aiding in Inquisitors before being assigned to Mustafar allowed me to leave Sho-Torun, where I was a Lady, but the people never enjoyed my presence since I killed my husband. I will not hide the fact that I did, but he mistreated me, and that is all I’m willing to explain for now. My Lord knows more details; perhaps in time, more of you will as I also learn to trust you. We have to simply take this gamble.”

Padmé glanced up at her husband as he watched while Keyti tried to adjust her sitting position, brows tightly furrowed in pain. Ahsoka’s eyes narrowed before she looked to Anakin, but as he nodded when the warrior had grown quiet, she leaned back in her own chair more casually. It would take time for her to trust her, but if her former Master had already formed his own, she could at least give more than she had in the fortress. Perhaps what she was saying is correct, but there was a small trickle of danger when the Emperor was mentioned. Especially before she was of age. Ahsoka could only speculate about its meaning.

Yoda nodded, humming softly as he signed,” The Order, you tried to join. Turned you away, we did. Too old. Led you down a dark path.”

Anakin’s attention was caught then, looking to Keyti,” You were?”

She looked up to him, giving a slight nod,” Had I known who you were, I would have told you. I didn’t believe it was necessary since I wasn’t allowed to stay … but yes, I came to the Order on my own when I was ten. I tried to hope that I could be trained, that I could be helpful. I was angry, and then Senator Palpatine noticed me in the halls. He took a liking to me, but when I turned twelve, he … lost interest, and I was soon arranged into a marriage.”

Padmé’s eyes widened while Ahsoka’s brows furrowed, the Senator speaking up,” That young?”

“Yes. The Emperor has a particular taste, and once I had grown out of it, I was sent off to be quiet. I refuse to be quiet now if you are willing to accept me as a Rebel. Though, I will not tell it to everyone in this room.”

Breha lifted a hand to cover her mouth in shock, glancing up at her husband as his jaw clenched. He saw how Anakin realized the meaning, his body tensing. His brow muscles tightened, and for a fleeting moment, he was glad he didn’t have to suffer that particular fate. He knew when she was trying to deceive, but there was no indication within the Force, and his voice came out rougher,” You do not have to continue. You will be safe here, just as I will be, if not welcomed more easily. I believe, for now, you should head to the medbay.”

Padmé moved from him, nodding to get her outdated datapad.” I’ll get 3PO to take her.” After she requested his presence, she looked back at Anakin with a soft smile. “He’ll be happy to see you back, Ani.”

“I’m assuming you have R2 then as well?”

“Of course, we couldn’t separate them. For now, I believe we can all return to our duties.” Scattered murmurs of agreement came as the group began to break up, leaving Anakin, Padmé, Keyti, and Ahsoka in the sitting area before a knock came. Peeking in, 3PO’s gaze found Padmé easily before he shuffled his way in.” You requested my assistance?”

“Yes, please bring the wheelchair to Lady Keyti and escort her to the medbay for treatment, 3PO. After that, please return to us.”

“Oh! Yes, of course.”

After Keyti’s departure, Anakin’s voice was soft, only audible to his wife,” her husband abused her. Treated her like a slave.”

Ahsoka watched them, unable to hear what he said, but noticing the shock on Padmé’s face before her lips became a thin line, she shook her head. Glancing back to the door where the warrior had vanished, she said,” How long have you known her?”

Turning, Anakin’s eyes moved to his former padawan, making her pause with the soft glow they seemed to hold as he thought momentarily. “Almost three years, I believe. Before being captured, she had risked her life lying to Sidious about her reason for being at the abandoned fortress after my latest … episode. She recovered footage, which taught me that Luke is my son.”

“Then I can trust her for that. She knew it was important,” Padmé said, moving closer to hug him again. He shook his head, and his large hands went to her waist.

“She was unaware of that at the time. According to her, she wanted me to see the footage to show that I hesitated.”

“Do you still have the drive somewhere?”

“No, I destroyed it upon hearing an exchange between Obi-Wan and Ahsoka.” His eyes moved back to Ahsoka,” I could not let others learn the truth, and since the fortress was destroyed by the Rebel airstrike before Sidious left Mustafar … no one else was aware.” He paused as another knock came from the door, watching silently as 3PO moved back into the room.

“You requested my presence, Senator Amidala?”

“Yes, we have someone for you to see again, 3PO.” She motioned to her husband, who looked at the droid he had crafted as a child, expression unreadable.

“Again?” He echoed, studying the larger frame of his creator before the familiar lines and features of his face beneath the scarring dawned the realization. “Oh, my circuits! Master Ani, you’ve returned! Oh, R2 will stop being a sad bucket of bolts now. Currently, he’s with the twins. They’ve been very interested in the details of the most recent invasion.”

“Lead us to them, 3PO,” Anakin said simply,” it’s time they officially meet their father.”

Padmé only grinned brightly, holding onto his arm again as her joy overwhelmed her fear of what she had witnessed on the battlefield. If he could converse and be close to humans, he would be okay … right? If he had hesitated, perhaps there was hope that they would be recognized even in hunger. “I think the one you need to worry about the most is Leia. She’s stubborn, just like her father.”

He looked back down at her, softening with a quiet, rough-sounding chuckle escaping his throat. “Oh, she is? Does that mean that Luke is more like you?”

“That’s what Obi-Wan says, at least. He looks like you the most, though.”

“They had a personality swap then?” As he grinned, Padmé could see the sharp canines her husband had now, heart aching for the modifications done to him, but they could have a med-droid look over him later. For now, she only wanted her family together for the first time in fifteen years as she returned the grin.

“They did, and I believe it was a funny little joke from the Force,” she laughed, leading him into the hall.

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